The Housekeeper [h.s.]

Seeing through lies

[Unedited]

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"When can I see her?" I asked hasty to the man sitting in front of me at the table.

He sighed. "Not yet. Listen, I need you to answer the questions I'm going to ask you, alright? Honestly."

I looked away from him and gritted my teeth and fisting my hands. This man provoked me. He didn't answer my questions properly, so why should I?

"Remember I'm here to help you, Harry. As your lawyer I need to have something reasonable for you not going to jail. Please tell me the truth," he said sincerely.

For the first time I actually believed what he said. I looked back at him. In his eyes there were a kind type of sadness. A caring sadness.

I sighed and crossed my arms. "Fine, let's just get it over with."

He nodded and smiled, picking up his noteblock and a pen from the pocket on his shirt, hitting the top on the table to release the pen. I didn't feel like answering his stupid questions, neither did I want to be stuck in this disturbing, small room that smelled like sweat and nerve racking conversations.

"Okay, story time. Tell me about everything. The day, what happened, etcetera" he said.

I ran my fingers through my hair. "Well, it was around nighttime after me and the boys had done a show in Vegas. I don't really remember the exact time. Anyway, it was a Friday and I was at the hotel when I was planning the whole thing. The other boys were at this party God knows where."

"Why didn't you go there?" My lawyer asked.

"Because I was planning the trip to get the weed, obviously" I lied.

He nodded and scribbled something down on his notebook. I swallowed, knowing I would have to keep lying to him the rest of the interview. Although I was pretty good at lying, I wasn't very fond of it. It made me feel so false and disgusting. Especially now that I knew if I told the truth, I may not have to go to jail. But on the other hand, if I told the truth, I would probably just get killed. Ron would be in prison, but he obviously had other men in his dirty, little business that would do it for him.

The man, introduced as John, cleared his throat. "Were there others involved in the plan? Or any of it?"

"No," I said, not too quickly, trying to hide the fact that I was lying.

"Not anyone?" He asked once again.

"Not a single living organism but me, my dear pal," I answered and smiled sarcastically.

He sighed. "Okay then. Well, why did you feel like you needed 2 tons of weed, Harry?"

I frowned. "Sometimes life just gets too hard, okay? You wouldn't understand. The life of a celebrity isn't so damn great as everyone wants it to be. The pressure, it just got too much."

This time I was in fact not lying. I was telling the truth. Being a celebrity wasn't as wonderful and perfect as many thought. There were days in my career where I just wanted to quit. To leave everyone and everything and just be normal again. But I would never get that back. Normalness. It would never ever occur in my life ever again. That broke me. To think that only my family and my friends would know about the name Harry Styles. And people wouldn't think of me as "the great Harry Styles from One Direction", just Harry Styles, the 20 year old boy from Holmes Chapel in Cheshire. Just that.

Then again, what was even normal?

He scratched his neck and wrote some more down in his notebook. "Yeah, I get that, or maybe I don't, but.. Two tons? That's enough for every citizen in London. Why not only a little bit? A little bit so that you wouldn't get caught?"

He was absolutely right. The whole lie was stupid. Why in the world would one guy need that much weed? It didn't make any sense. But it was the only way I could get through this alive.

"I wanted to stack it up. Till the summer comes. Can't keep driving back and forth all the time, can I?" I said, chuckling.

He looked down, letting out a small laugh. "Listen, Harry. I've read a lot about you and seen many pictures of you. You seem like a very happy person that's happy with your life. You smile in pretty much every picture."

I let out a fake chuckle and stared him blank in the eyes. "Smiling has always been easier than explaining why I'm sad."

His expression turned serious, and he quickly wrote something more down in his goddamn notebook. Probably "he's a fucking depressed mess". That's what I sounded like. Yes, parts of it were true, I wasn't exactly happy everytime I smiled, but I did exaggerate it all a bit.

"Why are you still doing this then, Harry? If you're not happy with your life, why not change it? Why do you stay?"

I smiled. This was an easy question.

"The fans. Everything they've done for me and the boys is truly amazing. They've always been there for us, no matter our flaws and terrible mistakes. They will always stay. That's why I'm staying," I said firmly.

He smiled and put his pen back into his pocket. He stood up.

"Well, we're done here" he said.

I furrowed my eyebrows and started to get nervous. "Done? Wait, aren't you gonna ask me some more questions?"

He smiled and motioned for me to stand up. "Harry, you're a good liar, I'll give you that, but I don't believe you. There's more to this than what you're telling me. I think they're lies, and I will get to the bottom of this."

I slowly got up from my chair and frowned. "But, but, I'm not lying! I'm telling the truth, do I have to shove it down your throat? I'm being honest."

He couldn't find out that I was lying. He just couldn't. Everything would be ruined. I couldn't risk this. I had to come up with another good lie. Something he would believe. He wasn't really the gullible one, so it was quite hard.

He opened the door. "See, mr. Styles, I don't believe you. Now, they'll keep you here for the night until I've gotten the truth out of you. You can meet your girlfriend a bit later on the day, after you've gotten your custody suite and everything's sorted."

I frantically shook my head. "No, no, I'm not accepting that. I'm not! You have to fucking believe me."

He chuckled. "And that's the reason I don't believe you."

I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion. "What?"

"You're so determined that I believe you. Which means that you want to go to jail, because if what you're telling me is in fact only lies and there's more to the story, then that means you may not have to go to jail. You on the other hand want me to believe otherwise. You see my point?" He said.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Listen, John Travolta. I just don't like when people don't believe me. That's all."

He kept his stupid smile on his face and led me out the door. I groaned irritated at him. Why wouldn't he listen? Were all lawyers like this? Hopefully not.

There were something he said that stuck on my mind though. I would get to see Lucy later. Today. See Lucy. My dear Lucy. Today. Just the thought of seeing her beautiful face made me smile and made my stomach go crazy. It was horrible how love-struck I was, really. Lucy-struck. She was truly my everything.