Little White Lie

by Madison Night

  “Go to your meeting, Cara. I’ll catch you later,” Syd said sadly.

  “Oh my God!” her friend squealed again, mouth agape. “You like this Caleb dude!”

  Syd turned her friend toward the front door and put her hands on her back, gently pushing her out. “Later, Cara. Please.”

  She spun around. “Okay. But word of caution, babes. Cover up that neck of yours before you see your dad or Brett, okay?”

  Syd nodded and watched Cara get into her car and back out of the driveway. She waved goodbye and closed the door.

  She stood in front of the mirror, pulling her hair out of the way to better examine the bruise left by Caleb’s teeth. Touching it, she closed her eyes and visualized every detail of the when, where and how. Her heart rate quickened and hot tears stung her eyes.

  She didn’t have a right to miss CJ. Not this badly. Not when she barely knew him.

  But she did.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Wow, Papa! That’s great! You’re getting better and better every day!”

  “Not like you, Nikki. You have that special talent. I’m a simple cartoonist compared to you,” Stefanos Christou said, affectionately touching her hand.

  “No, Papa, really. You’ve improved so much over the past few months,” Syd encouraged, sitting beside her father.

  “Meh,” he laughed, waving at the canvas. “I do still life…pottery, fruit, flowers. That’s not a big deal. But you…you do people. You’re able to capture their essence on that canvas. The sorrow, the love, the happiness—you can see it in their eyes and on their faces and in their posture. It’s as if they were standing right there in front of you.”

  Syd smiled gently. “Whatever talent I do have I got from Mom.”

  Stefanos gazed at his daughter, his brown eyes seemingly filled with love. “You look so much like her, Nikki.” He reached up and stroked her cheek lightly, a reminiscent smile on his lips. He pushed his glasses up his nose and returned his attention to the painting before him, dabbing at the canvas.

  She sat with him in silence for a few minutes. Even though Stefanos wasn’t her father by birth, they were alike in so many ways. It was no wonder—Stefanos had been in her life since she was ten years old. Her real father, Jeffrey Bennett, had passed away when she was six, from hereditary heart failure. Every time she looked in the mirror she was reminded of her biological father—she had his height and the same pale green eyes that had made her mother fall in love with him. Her mother, Thalia, had been of Greek heritage and Syd was blessed with her long, thick black hair, high cheekbones and lithe figure.

  Her mom had been beautiful, Syd reflected, as her father carefully worked the canvas with a small angled brush. She’d never had a problem meeting men. But it was the handsome and kind Stefanos who had stolen her heart and swept her off her feet.

  Stefanos, also a widower at the time, had a son, Theodore, who was one year Syd’s senior. They had moved to Canada from Greece two years prior to meeting her mom and from the start the two had clicked, each fitting easily inside the gaps in the other’s hearts, filling them and making them whole again. When Syd had been eleven years old, the two families had become one.

  Sydney sighed and took her father’s free hand in her own, stroking the weathered skin. “What did you want to talk to me about, Papa?” she asked.

  He turned to her and took off his glasses. “Brett.”

  “Well, I figured as much. But what about him?”

  “He was very upset when he wasn’t able to find you, Nikki.”

  “He’s not my keeper.” She scowled.

  He sighed and cupped her cheek. “But we shouldn’t upset him. Not when things are so unstable.”

  Syd jerked away from his touch, instantly feeling awful for having done so. “I understand what’s at risk, but I won’t have him keeping tabs on me like I’m some kind of dog, Papa,” she explained, standing and starting to pace.

  “Sydney, look at me.”

  He only used that name when she was very upset, as it would gain her one hundred percent attention. She turned to face her father. He appeared so incredibly frail for only being sixty-seven.

  “Sydney,” he continued. “I… I know this is hard. This situation… I wish you and Theo never had to find out about what happened all those years ago.” His voice wavered. “But Brett found out and now he’s hurting our family.” His sigh was heavy. “I wish you weren’t put in a situation of sacrifice. I don’t want you to marry that heathen, my sweet, sweet child. But your hand is the price for his silence, and I am scared for all of us. What other option do we have right now?”

  “I know.”

  “I wish the choices I made when I was young and stupid didn’t come back to haunt us now, didn’t have to make you do this.” He paused and turned away as she sat beside him once again. “Maybe, maybe we should call it off, and let things unfold as they will. He can tell whomever he wants to, and then…”

  “No!” Syd cried out. “No, that is not going to happen!” She rested her head on her father’s shoulder for a moment. “We’ll find a way to fix this, Papa, I swear.”

  Stefanos rubbed the bridge of his nose wearily. “This is our only hope of saving our family, Sydney.” He frowned. “The only chance I have of being a part of your future, Theo’s future. I just hate what has to be done.”

  She reached out and held his hand.

  “Nikki, I’m serious. If you want to back out, call it off, please do it. I understand and love you no matter what, and your happiness means so much more. I won’t stop you. I can go back to Greece. I can fight.”

  “No, Papa, you can’t. If you go back, they’ll find you,” she whispered, terrified at the thought of losing her father all over again. “This is just till we can figure out a different plan. If marrying Brett is the price to be paid for keeping his big mouth shut for now, so be it.” She drew in a shuddery breath. “I can handle it.”

  “My sweet, strong girl,” he whispered, leaning forward to kiss her forehead.

  “Is, um, is Theo around?” she asked, swallowing hard. She needed to step away before she cried and her father saw the truth—that she wasn’t very strong at all.

  “No, Nikki, he’s not here.”

  “Tell him I was looking for him, okay? I have to go.”

  “Nikki?” he said tenderly, tears in his tired eyes.

  Syd walked over to her father and gave him a hug.

  Hugging her back tightly, he whispered, “Thank you.”

  Caleb cursed, tossing his pick onto the small table beside him. “Damn it.”

  “What’s wrong, bro?” Pat asked, putting down his guitar.

  He sighed and turned to his brother and bandmate. “I don’t know. I can’t concentrate.”

  “Yeah, you’ve been saying that since you got home yesterday. You need a new line. Your creativity is lacking.”

  Caleb chuckled. “You make it sound like I’ve been saying it for weeks. I’ve only been back in Florida since yesterday, PJ.”

  “Well, it certainly feels like that’s all I’ve been hearing from you, man,” Pat laughed. “Fess up. What’s gotten into you?”

  “Nothing,” he answered, immediately realizing the one-word response was fooling no one.

  Pat leaned back in the dark brown leather chair and crossed his feet at the ankles. “Bullshit, CJ. Who is she?”

  “Who’s who?”

  Pat raised an eyebrow, his blue eyes sparkling. “Dude, don’t forget I am your older brother. And I’m an incredibly smart big bro. What’s her name?”

  Caleb’s shoulders drooped and he laid his guitar across his lap. “Sydney.”

  His sibling nodded knowingly. “How’d you meet her? Is she a fan? Did she throw herself at you? What does she look like? Did you—?”

  Caleb laughed. “Holy Jesus, man, hang on a minute!” He smoothed his fingers over the gleaming instrument as he spoke. “My rental stalled and I couldn’t manage to get the car over to the shoulder. The road was noth
ing but black ice and she came around the bend and was able to slow down, but not stop. She bumped right into the back of the Caddy.” He smiled softly. “Total fluke our paths even crossed.”

  “You’re kidding.” Pat chuckled. “Man, you’ve taken picking up chicks to a new level. You stop in the middle of the road and wait for them to smash into you.”

  “See, you can learn new tricks from your younger brother now and then, Pat. I’m full of awesome ideas.” Caleb winked.

  “Not exactly my style, but it may come in handy one day,” he teased. “So she smashed into you. Then what?”

  “Her rad blew, so roadside assistance took her SUV to the shop and I took her to dinner.”

  “And then she realized who you were and jumped your bones,” Pat stated, standing and stretching. “All becomes clear.”

  “No, you asshole. Fuck, PJ, I don’t even really know if she’s a super avid fan or not. I mean she recognized me, but the only thing she alluded to knowing was the fact Dad passed away.”

  Pat glared at Caleb, his lips pressed tightly together. “Okay,” he said slowly. “And why in God’s name would she even mention anything about Dad? That’s way too personal for my liking.”

  He scratched his head. “She was telling me about her mom passing away nine years ago.”

  “You spoke about that? On a first date?”

  “It wasn’t exactly the first date,” Caleb explained. “This didn’t happen during our dinner together the night of the accident. I took her skiing the next day. We spent the better part of the day on the trails, and then I made her dinner back at the chalet,” he said quietly. “We were talking while sitting in front of the fireplace. The conversation was amazing. She’s fun and challenging, intelligent and sassy, and fuck, PJ,” he said glancing at him, “Fuck, is she ever gorgeous.”

  Pat squinted at his brother and ran a hand through his short dirty blond hair before asking, “So? Didja?” He wiggled his eyebrows and dry humped the arm of the sofa.

  Caleb groaned. “Oh my God, how are we actually related?”

  “You did, you little bugger! You banged her!” Pat laughed.

  “No, bro. That’s the thing—I didn’t. We kissed a couple times, and that’s it.” He briefly recalled the feel of her on his lips, the taste of her skin, and he was suddenly grateful the guitar was lying on his lap.

  “And?”

  “And it got really late, and she had meetings in the morning, so she slept over. In a separate room,” he added quickly, before his brother asked. “And in the morning, when I dropped her off at the hotel, I asked if I could see her again.” He let out a puff of air. “She basically said no. She said goodbye and walked away.”

  Pat appeared as taken aback as Caleb felt. “She just said goodbye?” he asked incredulously. “That must be a first for you, CJ.”

  Caleb tossed his brother a dirty look. “She was different, Pat. It wasn’t about a conquest with her. I’m tired of that game.”

  “Well, did she at least give you her number or something?”

  He frowned. “Nothing. Fuck, I don’t even remember her last name. All I have is a pair of earrings she left on the coffee table at the chalet.”

  Pat walked behind him and whacked the back of his head.

  “Ow! What the fuck was that for?”

  “Hello, genius?” Pat said, rolling his eyes. “Call the hotel she was staying at and work on getting any information you can on her. Use your magical sweet-talking ways. Charm the pants off the concierge, use the band’s name to your advantage. And if they won’t give you any information, then get them to send the earrings back and include a little love note.”

  “I don’t know, PJ. She didn’t really seem like she wanted to continue…whatever it was.”

  “Try, would you? Could it hurt? You’re acting like you lost your puppy, so just fucking do it.”

  Caleb shrugged. “I guess.”

  “Good boy,” Pat said, ruffling his kid brother’s hair. He glanced at the clock. “Okay, man, I’m out of here. We’ll speak tomorrow. I have a few song ideas I want to run by you, but on this particular topic—I’m going to want a full update.” Pat gathered his things and let himself out, leaving Caleb alone in the sitting room, with his thoughts of Syd.

  He stood and wearily made his way up the staircase to his bedroom, bone-tired. He hadn’t been sleeping well—every time he closed his eyes he imagined Syd smiling at him, then there were tears in her eyes as she turned away. He didn’t understand what had gone wrong. They had gotten on so well, and suddenly she turns and says goodbye?

  Caleb stripped off his T-shirt and tossed it to the floor as he approached his dresser. He picked up the delicately woven gold chandelier earrings and admired the way the light glinted off them.

  He shook his head. He wasn’t going to do it. He wasn’t going to try to contact her only to get shot down. He’d send the earrings back to the hotel and ask for them to return the jewelry to Syd, and that was it. No letter. No communication.

  He gently put them back and rubbed at his face.

  She’d made it pretty clear that she didn’t want to see him again.

  So what was the use?

  Chapter Fourteen

  “All right, are you going to dish out the details yet, young lady? I’ve been here for, what, fifteen minutes already and you haven’t said a thing about this Caleb guy!” Cara huffed impatiently, sitting cross-legged on Syd’s cream-colored leather couch.

  “I haven’t?”

  “Syddie! Come on, you can’t do this to me!”

  “Mmm.” Syd nodded, taking a sip of her Chardonnay. “Yes, I can.”

  “Tell me,” Cara laughed, grabbing Puff, who was sitting on her lap, and raising her front paws in the air, “or the Puffmeister here is going to fight you for the details! Now, what’s he like?”

  Syd sighed. “He’s amazing. He’s handsome and so much fun to be with. He’s flirty and sexy and interesting and sympathetic and caring.”

  Cara snorted and grabbed her glass of wine. “So you didn’t like him much, then.”

  Syd groaned miserably.

  “Did you…ya know?”

  “No we did not ‘ya know’. But God, I wanted to. It was more than a superficial attraction, Cara. He treated me like a woman, not some piece of property. He made me feel desired and happy and tingly. I haven’t felt like that in so damn long.”

  “And what did this mystery man look like, pray tell?”

  Syd nervously played with a loose strand of hair. Cara was going to absolutely freak when she figured it out. “Oh, um, well,” she began. “He’s tall, over six feet for sure. He has blond hair, short at the back, longer in the front. He has the bluest eyes I’ve ever seen and a killer smile.”

  “Sounds yummy. Go on.”

  “He’s, uh, muscular, tanned and has these long fingers that kinda put your imagination into overdrive,” she continued, reaching over and plucking Cara’s wine glass away from her.

  “Hey, give that back!”

  Syd ignored her friend and continued. “He’s also a guitarist. And a vocalist.”

  Cara narrowed her eyes, calculating and absorbing what Syd was saying. Finally, she whispered, “Shut up.”

  Syd nodded. “Yeah, he plays in, oh, just your favorite band.”

  “Shut up!” Cara squealed. She rattled off the facts, counting on her fingers for emphasis. “Guitarist, tall, blond, and good-looking, his name is Caleb… Holy shit! You hooked up with Caleb Jones,” her friend exclaimed, excited hands flying everywhere.

  Syd leaned back and grinned.

  “Oh my God, I am so jealous,” Cara shrieked one last time. She took a deep breath and laughed. “Okay, I’m calm. I won’t go flapping my hands anymore. Can I have my wine back now?” She adjusted her position on the couch and urged Syd to continue. “So how did you two meet?”

  Syd smiled as she offered the glass back to her friend, and began recounting the series of events that had led to her chance meeting with the
rock star, and the evening they’d shared.

  “Okay, so let me get this straight,” Cara said, holding up a hand to stop Syd from going further. “You met from a mini car accident, and even though you bumped his car, he takes you to dinner and treats you to an amazingly romantic day on the slopes. Then he takes you back to his glorious chalet, where he cooks you dinner and you have an intimate conversation in front of the fire.” She shrugged and scratched Puff behind the ears, making her whine happily and her tail wiggle back and forth with excitement. “Not to mention that you guys kissed a couple times. Now, what you failed to mention, was exactly how you got that bite mark of yours.”

  “Oh, that. Um, well, that happened when he gave me a neck massage,” Syd mumbled.

  “Of course, right, that makes perfect sense. He was obviously massaging you with his teeth.”

  Syd almost spit out her wine. “No! My neck was cramped and he tried massaging the knot out after breakfast. It was the way I slept.”

  “Oh, I get it now.” Her eyes widened. “Wait a sec. No, I don’t. You slept there? But I thought you said you didn’t…?”

  “We didn’t! He was too much of a gentleman, damn it,” she laughed. “It was actually really refreshing. He led me upstairs, dropped me off in a guest room and said goodnight.”

  “Sure, sure, whatever.” Cara waved her hand in the air. “Details on this so-called massage, please.”

  “Well, he was just rubbing my neck and then all of a sudden his mouth was there instead of his hands.” Her cheeks grew warm. “And that’s it.”

  “How did his hands feel?” Cara probed, tucking a chunk of blonde hair behind her ear.

  Syd smiled softly. “Strong and calloused,” she whispered. “But so soft and reassuring at the same time.” She furrowed her brow.

  “Are you going to meet up with him again, Syd?”

  She whispered no and bit her lip, trying to avoid the rush of tears that always accompanied thoughts of Caleb.