False Facades (Best Sellers: Best Romance/Humor )

by Martha Greenwood

  "Shit, mother-!" He gritted his teeth, grabbing his leg in pain. With luck, a bruise the size of her head will turn up by tomorrow.

  She stormed away just as Carrie was coming up the stairs with a concerned expression on her face. Sammy grabbed the girl's hand and dragged her back down the steps. "Come on, Carrie! I'll sleep with you tonight then!"

  Vincent choked and his eyes nearly bulged out as he followed, coming to the balustrade just in time to watch the front doors slam behind the two.

  "What happened?" Will came up behind him, puzzled. Danielle followed closely, her arms crossed in front of her. She frowned. "Where's Sammy?"

  "He absconded off with Carrie!" Jack came running up the stairs, nearly wailing. "How can this happen??"

  "Abscond – verb - to depart secretly," Will recited. "Bravo, you've been studying your vocabulary, haven't you?"

  "Yeah, well, SAT prep," Jack shrugged modestly. He switched topics, snarling, "What the hell's wrong with Sam?"

  Vincent turned away, face stiff and impassive. "Everything. Just forget about him. He's not worth our time."

  "What?" Will and Danielle cried out.

  "He's the biggest liar I've ever met - and that includes you too, Danielle. Who was that girl you helped sneak into Sam's room?" Vincent narrowed his eyes.

  Jack's jaw fell open. "He snuck a girl into his room? Wow . . . NICE!"

  "Yeah, well, that's the same nice boy who's with Carrie right now."

  Jack turned slack. "I'LL KILL HIM!"

  Will shook his head. "Wait! Wait! It's not what you guys think! Sammy's actually a –"

  Danielle stopped the boy with a small, abrupt shake of her head. She leaned in close and whispered to Will, "We can't fight Sammy's battles for her. If she didn't tell him herself, we'll just have to let them sort things out for themselves."

  Will threw her a suspicious look out of the corner of his eyes. "And you're not just doing this to torment Vincent?"

  "God, he is my brother." But Danielle shrugged, a wicked grin touching the corners of her lips. "So okay, maybe."

  Chapter Seventeen

  Frank Westlane stood awkwardly by the doorway of the ballroom. So far, the night has not been successful. All the women he had approached seemed to be too busy or too tired. He curled his lip in disdain. Well, none of them are worth my time anyway. Stupid, common bitches. All the while, his eyes searched through the crowd for any signs of redheads. He has always been partial to that glorious red hair, a symbol of passion and fire. If the girl happened to come with captivating green eyes, then so much the better. He had found one many years ago and had pursued her relentlessly, bestowing all sorts of riches on her, but there had been no happy ending for him. She had chosen to run off with his pathetic excuse of a brother, throwing all his gifts back in his face. His hand tightened on his glass of champagne. It wasn't fair.

  He had to remain on the sidelines, watching the happy couple make their little happy home with their little happy children. To make it worse, his own father – that old geezer – played favorites and once again, his brother was chosen over him. After he died, that senile old man actually – no, he refused to think about it any longer. It only made his blood boil. Besides, it was all over now thanks to his meticulous plan.

  His life got better since then; God had finally answered him and bestowed a miracle on him: his niece, Samantha. It was destiny. The very picture of her mother, Samantha was left in his custody. She was his. Much quieter than her mother, she was perfect. Yes, she was his.

  Oh, she tried to fight him, all right. But once again, luck was on his side. He was on a roll. Her dear brother had ended up in a little coma, sustained only by the prestigious medical system Frank's money had provided for. Dear little Terry had become Frank's source of blackmail. As long as Samantha was nice and obedient, Terry would remain nice and breathing. Perfect.

  Then the little bitch ran away. Turned out Samantha actually had some of her mother's rebellious nature. Frank had almost gone into Terry's room and suffocated the boy with a pillow in his rage before he realized that he still needed the vegetative brat. Once he got Samantha back in his grasp, he would use his "Terry card" and make sure she would be locked up tight this time without a complaint. That would be the end of that.

  Except for the fact that he still haven't found her! He gnashed his teeth together, fuming silently. He didn't know what to do now. He wanted to kill the boy and break Samantha's heart for defying him, but that would be useless if Frank wasn't there with her to see her crying face. He had no choice but to keep her brother alive, but for every day that passed, Frank's migraine would get worse and worse. He could almost see that betraying girl out there laughing at him - just like what her stupid parents probably had done behind his back seventeen years ago.

  Where the hell was that stupid girl? All the private investigators he had hired turned up with nothing. You would think a girl with such bright red hair would be easy to find - unless she actually had the brains to dye it. He almost threw his glass down then. Dye his prized red hair? How dare her for ruining her hair. How dare her for ruining everything! Just wait . . . once I get my hands on you -

  He suddenly caught a flash of a familiar copper red color and he whirled around just in time to see a small, redheaded boy leading a blonde girl out the front doors. He stood there for a minute, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

  "What's the matter, Frank? You look like you have a migraine," Katherine coolly interrupted his thoughts.

  He blinked blankly at the woman before murmuring, "I – I thought I just saw this red haired boy –"

  "Oh, him," Katherine sniffed disdainfully. "I thought he was too sick to come down to the party tonight - not that I want him here anyway. He's some underprivileged friend of Vincent from school and came to visit for the vacation."

  "A friend from school?" Something clicked in Frank's mind. "That all boys boarding school?"

  "Yes, yes."

  "Well, what's his name?"

  "Oh, this will be funny. The boy actually has the same last name as your own. Such a coincidence. Sam Westlane, I believe it was."

  Frank almost laughed. How smart you are, Samantha. So you do have brains after all. Hiding your sweet little self in an all boys school - you almost fooled me. Almost. But as always, I will win. Your mother couldn't escape me and neither would you.

  Katherine was a bit disturbed by that weird expression on Frank's face. It almost appeared like he was . . . smiling. Genuinely. She shuddered. "Frank, whatever is the matter with you tonight? Did you forget to take your medications or something?"

  "Oh no, Mrs. Grenford. I'm just very, very happy tonight," he commented. So you want to play, Samantha. Alright, I'll leave you be for now and see how far you go before I reel you back in.

  * * *

  Vincent slammed the door to his room, escaping his sister, Will, and Jack to find some sanctuary. He took two steps before sinking to the floor with a sickening thud. He curled his legs up in front of him and bent forward to rest his forehead against his kneecaps. He ran a hand through his hair messily before letting out a long sigh. So what do I do now?

  A whiny voice answered him. I want you to march yourself across the street right now and talk to the boy. I don't care how long it takes! You're obviously in lo-

  Another voice strangled the first one. Don't even say it, dude. That word's not in our vocabulary, understand? NO WAY! Man, what the hell are you doing here moaning like a woman? You got the kid out of your hair! Now celebrate! Go after Victoria! Man, oh man, now that's one hot babe - not that I'm saying you should take her back, of course. Just use her, dude! Pure carnal pleasure, baby! After one night, we'll have you straightened, back to normal -

  Voice # 1 interrupted. Do you even know what you're saying, imbecile? You think Vinnie wants Sammy out of his hair? It's the complete opposite! There's nothing more that Vincent wants than to have Sammy hug him and run his fingers through his glorious, dark hair – which I might add, is sti
ll in fine condition. No chance of it balding because of the care I take -

  Prissy girly wimp. With the advice you give, I'm surprised Vincent hasn't turned into Will already!

  You take that back! I just want Vincent to follow his heart and not his nether regions, barbarian!

  His heart goes out to a boy! A boy! You want our genes to die off?

  If his genes are going to produce some more copies of a narrow minded jerk like you, then I'd rather have them go into extinction!

  Vincent groaned and rubbed his temples to shut the voices up before they battle it out right there and then in his brain. Great, I have active voices in my head now. Wonder how long it'd take before I get locked up in the nearest asylum.

  * * *

  Jack glared resentfully at Will. The latter had managed to pin the boy down and tied him up with a rope before dragging him off into Danielle's room. Danielle shut the door and stood next to the perpetually cheerful William and chewed on her lip, cocking her head to one side. "Jack, just calm down already. We can't set you free if you're going to spring across the street and murder Sammy."

  Jack cried out desperately, "I won't kill him! Just a black eye or two - maybe a bloody nose - COME ON! Carrie's with him!"

  Danielle rolled her eyes. "You really think Sammy is capable of taking advantage of Carrie?"

  "Well … not really, but then again, I mean, he snuck a girl into his room," Jack countered. "I think that says quite a lot about his supposedly innocent nature!"

  "Don't be stupid," Danielle retorted crossly. "Sammy isn't like that."

  Jack shook his head insistently. "You know what they say, never judge a book by its cover. Sam is just this evil pervert inside and there's nothing you can say that would change my mind now."

  "Sammy's a girl."

  There was a long pause of silence while Jack gave them a dumbfounded look. "That - that might work."

  * * *

  Tristan came home to find his sister holding Sam in a death grip.

  Sammy tried to disentangle herself, but the other girl was just so freakishly strong. "Help me . . ." she wheezed out.

  He raised his right eyebrow and folded his arms. "I've never seen this side to you before, Carrie."

  Carrie fumbled, trying to keep her arms locked around Sammy. "Yeah, well, I haven't really been myself tonight all that much. Where's father?"

  "Trying to chat up some business deal. He'll be home later." Tristan took off his coat and calmly hung it up in the closet.

  "Good. Help me tie Sammy up then. We'll toss her in the basement."

  "Excuse me?" Her brother scratched his chin, observing their struggle.

  "She and Vincent got into a big fight and she left him."

  "Ah." He nodded. "Great!"

  "But she wants to leave Creston High and run away."

  Tristan's brows knitted as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Alright, hold onto her for a minute, would you?"

  "Why?"

  "I need to find something that I can knock her out with …"

  Sammy tore Carrie's arms free and she protested, "Nobody's tying me up or knocking me out tonight! I have to leave!"

  Tristan turned around and stared at her coolly, "I'm not letting some girl run off by herself in the middle of the night."

  Sammy froze. She suddenly realized Carrie's blunder. Blunders. Oh dear god. "Er . . . I'm a boy," she said lamely.

  Tristan rolled his eyes, obviously irritated. "Sam, I'm not as stupid as the rest. I know that you're a girl." He glanced away. "In fact, I've known for quite a while."

  Sammy whirled around and her eyes landed on Carrie. The younger girl flinched and looked away guiltily. "It's not my fault. Well, not technically. Tristan already knew beforehand," Carrie cried out defensively.

  Sammy paled slightly and then sagged before covering her face with a hand. "Fine. I'm tired of all the pretenses anyway. I'm a girl."

  Tristan smiled at her softly. "There, now. That wasn't so hard, was it?"

  Sammy gave him a confused look. "How did you find out anyways?"

  "Well, it really wasn't that hard to guess. You're a terrible actress," Tristan folded his arms and grinned impudently at her.

  "The others couldn't figure it out," she mumbled, her cheeks flaming red.

  "That's because they're all a bit lacking in the brains region," Tristan waved his hand airily. "And besides, remember that time I came to your room to return your wallet and you were in that nice pajama set?"

  Sammy nodded hesitantly.

  "Remember how that nice pajama set was so loose and baggy?"

  "It was my brother's," she cried out in defense.

  He ignored her as he continued, "Well, do you remember how you dropped your spoon?"

  She frowned and nodded again. Where is he taking this?

  "And remember how you bent over to pick that spoon up?"

  "Yea –" She stopped and a hot flush crept up her neck. "Oh god. You mean –"

  Tristan had the decency to look uncomfortable as he nodded.

  "B – but it was bandaged –"

  He coughed slightly, "Yeah, well, it didn't really help when you were bending over like that. I, er, still saw your . . . cleavage –"

  "Carrie, hold onto your brother for a minute."

  "W – why?"

  "I want to go get something to knock him out!" Sammy choked out, "WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SOMETHING THEN?"

  Tristan grinned sheepishly. "Well, I thought I should see how far you'd take things. I was sure you must have had your reasons for not wanting people to know, which was why I told Caine not to tell –"

  "CAINE KNOWS?" Sammy shrieked. Oh god. My secret isn't even a secret!

  Tristan chuckled slightly, "You can't expect him not to know. He figured you out since the first day. He has a radar sensor or something regarding the opposite sex. He's trained himself to recognize a girl whenever he sees one ever since that unfortunate accident in Thailand when he went to a hotel with some girl he picked up from a bar only to find that the girl wasn't, well, a girl … yeah, he wound up sick in bed for a month –"

  Sammy twisted her hands, very close to a meltdown.

  Tristan continued, "Well, then I got worried about you being all alone in the same room as Vincent ... until I noticed that you seemed to be affecting him more than he was bothering you." He cracked up then and Sammy stared at him, upset. "It's so funny! The poor guy's all confused and bothered now since he obviously has feelings for you –"

  "Hold on!" Sammy cried out. She flushed hotly. "That's where you're wrong! He does not have feelings for me!"

  Tristan shook his head. "Boy, you two are really perfect for each other."

  "W – what?"

  "You're just as dense as he is."

  Sammy muttered, "I really need to find something to bash into your head."

  "Sammy," Tristan regarded her seriously this time. "I know about your family ... and your uncle. Carrie told me."

  Sammy swiveled around again to shoot daggers at the girl. The blonde waved her hands, the picture of innocence. "I'm a really bad liar! Tristan just asked me so straight-forwardly! I couldn't make up something!"

  "Sammy," Tristan turned her attention to him again. "You can't leave. Not with that ... guy out there. The safest place is Creston High, where I can keep an eye on you. And if I'm not there, there's Caine. No ..." He paused, frowning. "Wit a minute, not Caine. He's dangerous, too. Well, there's always Will – wait, no." Tristan sighed in frustration. "Well, yeah, there's always me ... and I guess, Vincent."

  Sammy looked down, biting her lip hard. "That's the problem. I – I can't face Vincent anymore. We – we got into a huge fight and I don't think he wants to see me anymore –"

  Tristan rolled his eyes, tucking his hands into his pants pockets. "He likes you. He'll get over it."

  "NO! He doesn't! Stop saying that!"

  Tristan groaned. "Listen, even though he's stupid and we're not exactly on friendly terms right now ... he was once my best fr
iend. I know the guy. I know what he's like and what he likes. And I do know that he really, really likes you."

  A glimmer of hope sprouted within her at his confident tone, but she continued to shake her head. "But why would he? He thinks I'm a boy, remember?"

  Tristan's grin stretched from ear to ear and there was no other word to describe it except for pure evil. Sammy raised an eyebrow. Well, this is certainly a side of him I haven't seen before . . .

  "Isn't that cute then?" He drawled. "He likes you for you. Not because you're all pretty – which you can be, as proven by that dress you wore tonight." She blinked, a blush creeping into her cheeks. "He just . . . feels for you," Tristan nodded, confident. "Now the question is: do you like him?"

  Sammy almost burst into tears. If only everything he said was true. She sighed, glancing away. "I'm tired."

  "Don't change the subject, Sammy." And suddenly, his eyes were an intense sapphire blue. "Sammy, I need to know . . . because me and Vince, well, we have a tendency to like the same things in life."

  Her heart stuttered.

  "So," he continued with a faint, crooked smile. "Before any hearts get strayed along, it's best that we get this clear now." His eyes crinkled, warm and gracious. "Do you sort of catch my drift?"

  She stared at him for a moment before turning pink as she stammered, "Oh, Tristan. Y – you can't possibly – there – there's no way -"

  His eyes softened and he nodded good-naturedly. "I see."

  She looked down and twisted the hem of her shirt. Flustered, she whispered, "I – I'm making a mess of everything, aren't I?"

  He laid a hand on her head, ruffling her hair tenderly. "It's okay."

  Carrie frowned in confusion. "What? What happened? I don't understand! It's like you guys are speaking in code now! Did I miss something?"

  They ignored her. Carrie narrowed her eyes. "Tristan, stop petting Sammy like she's a dog."

  "Alright." Tristan turned his head smoothly, pinning his sister with a dark look. "Let's move onto you then, Miss I Made Out With Jack All Night. Since when did you get so friendly with the -"