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    White Lies
    White Lies
    White Lies
    Ebook110 pages1 hour

    White Lies

    By Jack Byrne

    4/5

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    About this ebook

    Brent Winton is doing all the wrong things for all the right reasons. Since the death of their parents years ago, Brent is helping his younger brother Zach through law school in sunny Queensland, Australia. The boys share a cheap flat, and Brent works two jobs to support them, but Zach thinks the second job is merely bar tending. In reality Brent has turned to gay prostitution to ensure that Zach has all the best textbooks and the up-to-date laptop he needs so he can focus on his studies. When hot Russian refugee Dimitri moves in next door, Brent finds him mesmerizing, but fears that if he gets involved, Dimitri will expose Brent’s white lies. But Dimitri has a dark secret of his own, and the question becomes how either of them can learn to trust the other without blowing their cover.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDreamspinner Press
    Release dateAug 12, 2015
    ISBN9781634762816
    White Lies
    Author

    Jack Byrne

    Jack Byrne was born and raised in Speke, Liverpool to an Irish immigrant father and grandparents. Under the Bridge is his debut novel and follows reporter Anne and student Vinny around Merseyside, as they become involved in a story of unions, crime, and police corruption after human remains are discovered at a construction site.

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    • 4/5
      The idea of "white lies", harmless or trivial lies told to protect someone, is interesting. I find the thought that lies - morally reprehensible under normal circumstances - can suddenly be, if not good, at least acceptable, a fascinating concept. They are probably a consequence of the idea that "the end justifies the means" - as long as the liar in question means well, all is okay. Well, as Brent finds out in this story set in Australia, that may work in theory, but the reality of things can be very different.

      I agree that Brent has the best of intentions when he turns to prostitution so he can make enough money to get Zach, his younger brother, through college since their parents died years ago and he feels responsible for Zach. Brent knows the decision is questionable, but he is so determined for Zach to make it, that he puts those concerns aside and does what he thinks he has to do. Only when he meets and begins to like their new neighbor, Dimitri, does Brent begin to see his decision with more objective eyes. Self-discovery and fear soon follow, and Brent has a few tough decisions to make.

      If you like sweet romances, if two men coming to terms with who they are and learning what's really important are your thing, and if you're looking for a read that is as emotional as it is sweet, then yu will probably like this novella.


      NOTE: This book was provided by Dreamspinner Press for the purpose of a review.

    Book preview

    White Lies - Jack Byrne

    White Lies

    By JACK BYRNE

    Brent Winton is doing all the wrong things for all the right reasons. Since the death of their parents years ago, Brent is helping his younger brother Zach through law school in sunny Queensland, Australia. The boys share a cheap flat, and Brent works two jobs to support them, but Zach thinks the second job is merely bar tending. In reality Brent has turned to gay prostitution to ensure that Zach has all the best textbooks and the up-to-date laptop he needs so he can focus on his studies. When hot Russian refugee Dimitri moves in next door, Brent finds him mesmerizing, but fears that if he gets involved, Dimitri will expose Brent’s white lies. But Dimitri has a dark secret of his own, and the question becomes how either of them can learn to trust the other without blowing their cover.

    BRENT WINTON walked quickly to keep the heat of the sidewalk from coming through his shoes and burning his feet. He kept his hands in his pockets, thumbing the printer cartridge and change he was carrying. It was early Sunday afternoon, and he was anxious to get home and make sure his little brother was all right. Something about Zach’s behavior these last few weeks had been bugging him, something Brent couldn’t quite put his finger on.

    He would have worried Zach was using drugs, but Brent spent nearly every evening with Zach, except on the weekends when he had to work. And if Zach was using on the weekends while Brent was away, he wasn’t showing any signs of withdrawal during the week. So maybe it wasn’t drugs. Brent prayed it wasn’t. Hell, Zach only drank beer if someone pushed one into his hands. It must be something else. Brent remembered that exams were coming up in a few weeks, and relaxed a little. Zach did tend to withdraw a bit under the pressure of exams. Maybe that was it.

    Despite the blazing heat, Brent kept his hoodie over his face as he approached the intersection at the bottom of the steep hill where their flat was located in Brisbane. It was best to make sure none of his regular clients caught sight of him near his home; you never knew when one of them would turn out to be the stalker type. The signal changed to green, and he stepped out onto the road ahead of several other pedestrians.

    Someone grabbed his upper arm and yanked him backward. Just then a truck swung around the corner against the red light, narrowly missing Brent. He sucked in a breath and panted at the near miss, then turned to see who had saved him. But whoever it was had blended back into the crowd. Brent shook his head, called out Thanks anyway, then checked carefully for traffic before walking on. It was a sobering thought; what would happen to Zach should Brent not return home? How would Zach pay his way through his law degree, then?

    He stopped at the newsagent at the opposite corner to buy a paper, some chips, and a Coke. Then he turned up the steep hill and walked along a row of terrace houses, all butted up against each other with tiny front gardens fenced by matching wrought iron fences, mostly painted white but with some variations—black, red, or purple. He passed the last of the terraced houses and stopped in front of the gateway to the rambling old weatherboard house where he and Zach had their flat on the second floor. He turned to admire the parkland opposite their home—the greenery set against a deep blue sky scattered with thin white clouds. It was a beautiful day, but Brent was used to that. Most days in Queensland, Australia were sunny, unless it was the time of year when the subtropical rain thundered down relentlessly for weeks on end.

    Brent leaned down to check their letterbox, one of eight along the fence next to the elaborate but small ironwork gate. He pulled out some advertising leaflets, glanced through them, then opened the gate and dropped the leaflets into the rubbish bin beside the path as he walked past. After unlocking the wooden gate under the high-set house and closing it carefully after him, he locked it again and moved into the dimness and cool. Then he walked over to his car, checked nobody was around, and leaned down and kissed the bonnet. He opened the car door and carefully stashed the change from his pocket in the leather cover of the map book in the side pocket of the door—back with the wad of cash he had taken it from an hour earlier—then locked the car again and headed cheerfully for the steps.

    He nearly jumped out of his skin when a deep voice with a heavy Russian accent said from behind him, I was wondering who owned that beautiful classic beast.

    Brent turned around to see a man with an armful of books smiling at him. He had jet-black hair, fair skin, a strong looking face, and eyes that managed to look a deep navy blue and crystal-bright at the same time. Brent lost his voice for a moment, then said, Hi.

    Hello. That was definitely a Russian accent. His English was a little stilted too, as though he was a new arrival. Brent noticed that he had an underlying nervousness to his expression, sort of like he was expecting something bad to happen at any minute, even though it never did. It gave his otherwise handsome face a slightly tense, pinched look. Brent tilted his head. You’re new here?

    Fresh out of the detention center, the man said with a forced grin. He tried to rearrange the books in his arms but apologized instead. I’d shake your hand, but I’ve got my hands full. Dimitri Sergeivich.

    Brent Winton. Hi. Brent smiled. You’re as bad as my brother. A library on legs.

    Ah, yes, Zach. He studies hard.

    You know Zach? Brent shouldn’t have been surprised. Zach was very much a people person, and when he didn’t have his nose buried in a textbook, he was always going to barbecues and having a beer or two with the rest of the residents of the converted old mansion.

    Dimitri grinned. Everyone knows Zach. And anyone who knows Zach knows about his saint of a big brother.

    Brent ducked his head in shame. He was anything but saintly.

    I did not mean to embarrass you. It’s just that your brother speaks so highly of you. I was beginning to think that he had made you up, because there could never be a big brother so perfect.

    Brent looked up and studied Dimitri’s disarming smile. It was hard to stay embarrassed in the face of such sincerity, and Brent smiled back. Yeah, well, Zach does tend to exaggerate. I do what I can.

    Dimitri shuffled forward and moved a little too close into Brent’s personal space, peering into his eyes. Brent blinked. Something in Dimitri’s eyes was a little too perceptive, and the man was standing too close for comfort. But foreigners, Brent knew, often differed from Australians in their ideas about personal space. Australians maintained a good few feet—even yards—of personal space, given a choice, whereas Europeans and Asians tended to move in disturbingly close to speak.

    I don’t suppose I could get up the stairs? These books are getting heavy, said Dimitri after a long pause.

    Brent started, realizing he was standing in Dimitri’s way at the

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