False Facades (Best Sellers: Best Romance/Humor )

by Martha Greenwood

The boys moved away from the lobby and headed off into the living room. Frank followed close behind.

  Vincent tucked his hands in his pockets, turning around the room. His eyes glided around, lingering on the coffee table across the room. Frank twisted his neck around sharply, scanning for what had garnered the boy's attention. His eyes narrowed and in two short steps, crossed the room and snatched up what could be a very convenient weapon – a nifty antique letter opener in the design of a bejeweled dagger he had purchased only three months ago. He clutched the handle, his lips twisting in a smug sneer. Oh, no, you don't. "I see my little letter opener has caught your attention. Unfortunately, it's not for sale."

  Vincent shrugged. "Eh. Not my style anyway." He stretched his arms out, yawning as he cracked the knuckles of his fists.

  Frank's lips thinned and he tightened his grip on the handle. Brandishing it slowly, he barked, "Listen, you. You're all trespassing right now. Just because you brought your little group of friends, it doesn't mean shit. You can't frighten me."

  Vincent cocked his head to one side. "We can't?" A languid grin undulated across his face. "Good for you." He took a step forward.

  Frank stumbled backward. "You – what are you doing –"

  "Do you know what I really, really detest? Sniveling cowards who can't do anything but enjoy hurting those who are weaker than them." Vincent continued prowling forward. "So you know what I really, really enjoy? Thrashing their asses to even the odds out."

  Frank's eyelids fluttered rapidly but he scoffed, "Oh, big talk, Mr. Grenford. Truly touching. Please. You say you're some big noble Robin Hood rescuing the defenseless, but really, we all know you're nothing without your parents and your money. I know all about you. The big bully of Crestan High with his pack of friends running the whole school. Who are you to say anything about helping the weak? You're just a hypocrite. You're just like me –"

  The boy quickened his steps and Frank stumbled backwards, his words jumbled up in a yelp. Vincent stopped just before the man. "Never ever compare us. I'm not the perverted kidnapper here."

  The man turned mauve as he roared in Vincent's face. "Get out! Get out –"

  "Or what? You going to call the police on us?" Vincent growled.

  Frank Westlane turned quiet. "And what can you do? You can't do anything to me. Or were you planning to run me over or kill me?" His hands shook, but he snickered. "Samantha's mine. The whole world knows it. And as a matter of fact, if you force me, I will get the police here. You think I'm afraid? You think you can get them to somehow search my house while they're here? Idiot. I'll tell you what they'll do. They'll haul you boys out of here for bothering a good citizen, call up your parents including Mrs. Grenford, and you'll probably get grounded or have some of your credit cards cut up. And I? I will get a restraining order against you all and take such good care of my beloved niece. Now that - that will be the end of you bunch. So get out of here before I lose my patience. This is my final warning."

  The air was rife with tension. Up to this point, none of the other boys had dared to interrupt. Tristan's face was dark while Jack was trying to restrain himself from punching the bastard's lights out. Caine and Will had both folded their arms in front of them, but the latter was fidgeting. The room was silent except for the sound of birds calling, cars racing outside, distant echoes of car doors slamming, footsteps and clicking of heels against pavement and the moaning of wind.

  For a minute, Vincent looked dazed as if he was elsewhere. He stood there, still and quiet, as if taking in all the muted sounds. He jammed his hands in his pockets.

  Vincent's grey eyes were wracked with pain as he slowly lowered his head. Frank radiated with triumph.

  Will blinked and he gritted his teeth. Taking a step forward, he snarled, "Screw you! We don't care about your little back up team of corrupted police! We can take you! We'll find Sammy and run away and –"

  "William!" Vincent barked. "Just be quiet!"

  The other boy's jaw snapped shut and his eyes widened. "Oh, I don't believe this –"

  "Quiet!"

  Will's face hardened and he looked away.

  Vincent pivoted his head back to Frank. "We mustn't be so rude to Mr. Westlane. After all, he's right on so many points."

  Frank's smile vanished, replaced by an air of wary suspicion.

  Vincent scrutinized the letter opener in Frank's hand and his voice softened. "I really can't do anything to you, can I? But you're right. In fact, you're so right, it almost hurts. Because, yeah, of course I always have Mommy Dearest." His eyes flew up in a flash of startling grey.

  It happened too fast.

  A blur of motion. Vincent pressing forward, arching his fist. Door creaking open. Frank closing his eyes, bringing up his hands. Staccato beat of footsteps. All the boys jerking to attention.

  Vincent stopped short, his fist wavering just before Frank's nose. He heaved a quivering sigh of pain.

  Blood dotted along the floor as Vincent stumbled backward with his hand pressed against his abdomen.

  Tristan was the first to react. "Vince! What the hell?"

  Frank trembled, his hands still clutching the makeshift weapon now slick with blood. "I – I don't understand. What –"

  Vincent's eyes were closed as he smiled.

  Will stammered. "You're bleeding! Are you crazy? Are you committing suicide? Oh my god, is Sammy dead? Are you doing that shit where true love dies together? Oh god, oh god, oh god –"

  "WHAT IN THE WORLD IS HAPPENING?"

  Everyone froze.

  Vincent's grin broadened as he opened his eyes. Turning around to greet his mother, he waved weakly with his free hand. "Hey, Mom. Perfect timing." He jabbed a finger over to Frank. "This man just tried to kill your son." He smiled lopsidedly. "So what are you going to do about it?"

  Mrs. Grenford's face was stark white as she watched blood pool down at the base of Vincent's feet. She swallowed as her eyes flew to Frank.

  Frank stammered, "I – I can explain! It isn't what it looks like! He – he ran into my letter opener!"

  Mrs. Grenford's eyes spat fire. "You asshole."

  "Don't you see what he's trying to do? He's trying to manipulate you! He's trying to turn you against me –"

  "You stabbed my son!"

  "I didn't – it was self defense!"

  Vincent stumbled over to the couch and sat down heavily. He coughed, "I didn't do anything to you. I couldn't – remember?"

  Will sat down next to Vincent and blanched. "Oh god, Mrs. Grenford. The bastard really cut him! He's bleeding all over the place!"

  Katherine Grenford's fingers curled. "I am going to kill you, Frank Westlane. Isn't it enough that you can't handle your own niece? Why did you have to bring my son into this? Why did you have to hurt him?"

  "Your son was the one who barged in! I didn't want to hurt him! I –"

  "I should never have let you handle this whole mess. I'm starting to feel sorry that I let that poor girl go back to you, you incompetent jackass!"

  "It was your son! I didn't mean for any of this to happen –"

  Tristan cleared his throat, "Mrs. Grenford, Vincent is really bleeding a lot. It's not an act."

  Katherine whirled around to inspect her son. "Oh god." Then she snarled at Frank. "You were never supposed to lay a hand on my children, bastard! I'm going to make sure you never ever see the light of day, you sick, violent -" She whipped out her cellphone. "But first – first, I'm going to call the police and have them lock you up!"

  Frank shook his head. "No! Don't you see? He wants you doing this! He wants you to get the police here so that he can take away Samantha! He's just – you can't do this to me!"

  Vincent groaned loudly.

  Katherine gritted her teeth. "I don't really care anymore about you and your little troubles with your niece. All I know is that my son is now bleeding to death because of you and he needs an ambulance immediately!"

  "He's – he's not bleeding to death – I didn't cut him that badly! I –
it's probably just a minor scratch. Listen, why don't you just drive him to the hospital? It'll be quicker and – and we can forget all this ever happened – I will never go near your children again – I will move away with Samantha –"

  Katherine bared her teeth. "Listen. I might not like Sammy much, but even I know something is terribly wrong with you. Even if my son is that stupid enough to risk impaling himself on your letter opener for that girl, then I suppose it's just a sign that she's really that important to him and that he obviously feels you're a serious danger to her. So to prevent any future incidents of my son running after you again and ramming himself on sharper items, I'm going to resolve this matter once and for all." She flicked open the phone.

  Frank lost it.

  "Why must you all go against me? Why can't you just leave me be?" He charged forward, still brandishing the sharp letter opener, and Katherine lurched backward in alarm. "Why? Why can't I just get my way?"

  Vincent flew up from his seat. Tristan, Caine, and Jack bounded from across the room. Will threw himself forward and it ended up in an ugly pileup. Tackling the man to the ground from all sides, the antique dagger clattered and spiraled off against the marble floor. Frank clawed against the ground, trying to wriggle his way out from underneath the boys. "Get off me! Get off me! Samantha! Samantha! Claire! Claire! Why James! Why is it always James? Why must you all do this to me? I'm going to kill you all. Kill you all!"

  Mrs. Grenford gaped, her hand still clutching the phone. "Vincent! Are you underneath Will or Tristan? Get out from there! You're still bleeding! Vincent!"

  Vincent croaked, "Are you ever going to get around to calling the damn police?"

  "Already did, Vinnie. Are you okay?"

  The boys arched their necks up to see two other girls step up next to Katherine Grenford. Caine blinked. "Dani? Carrie?"

  Danielle was pale and Carrie was twisting her hands together. Katherine glanced in muted surprise over at her daughter.

  Danielle tried to smile, but her hands were shaking as they carded through her ruffled hair. "We - we followed you. We guessed you must have gotten a call from Vincent after you went running from the house and jumping into your car. So we tagged along after you in my car and when we figured out it was probably Frank's house you were heading, I decided to call the police – you know, just in case. Turns out they're not really specific about which Ms. Grenford they answer to. They should be heading over here right about now."

  Frank was still screaming and buckling against the boys. "Just listen to me! Let me go! I promise you! I won't do this anymore! Just let me go and get Samantha! Please! You can't do this to me!"

  Danielle felt like crushing the heel of her boots into the man's skull, but she ignored him as she picked her way around the group. "Vinnie? Are you alright?"

  "I think my blood is ruining Will's shirt and my stomach isn't feeling too happy. Otherwise, I just need Sammy." Vincent's muffled voice wafted through.

  Carrie wrapped her arms around her tightly. Her voice sounded strained. "Tristan? Jack? Are you two alright?"

  "Fine. Maybe you should step outside for a while. You know you don't like blood," her brother suggested.

  "But – but Sammy –" Her blue eyes roamed along the ceiling as if she could probe through the walls.

  Jack grunted as Frank jabbed him in the ribs. He socked the man with his elbow before adding his agreement. "Yeah, Carrie. Why don't you head outside and wait for the police?"

  Carrie bit her lip forlornly. "I – I guess. I – I'll just be outside then. Call me if – if you need anything?" The girl nodded at Danielle and Katherine before shuffling outside.

  Danielle was trying to pry back Tristan's arm to peek at her brother's wound. "Vince, can you just squeeze out of there and let us staunch the blood flow? You're really scaring me."

  Mrs. Grenford was peering out the windows, muttering to her herself. "Where are the paramedics? Where the hell are the police? What good can they do if they can't even save someone from bleeding to death? What's taking them so long –"

  "Please! Mrs. Grenford, I beg you! Just listen to me!" Frank screamed.

  The woman roared, "Just shut up! You don't know how close I am to bashing your brains in –"

  "Mom! Vincent's really pale!"

  "What?" Katherine scurried forward and kneeled down. Between her and Danielle, they managed to help extract Vincent out while keeping Frank pinned down.

  Vincent coughed and tried to sit up. His shirt was dark and matted with blood. Beads of sweat dotted his forehead and his skin felt clammy. Katherine moaned and clasped her arms around her son, pushing his dark hair away from his face. "Why did this have to happen? Don't move. Don't move at all. I – I think I heard that moving is bad for wounds so don't move. Okay, Vincent?"

  His smile was frail. "Thanks, Mom."

  Katherine shook her head and closed her eyes. "What did I do?"

  "For being there when I needed you."

  Her face was stark white. "Oh for – I didn't know you would do something this drastic. I – I wouldn't have even been here, if you didn't call and gave me that stupid message about running off to save Sammy –"

  He nodded. "But at least, this time, I knew that you were going to come. That you will finally listen to me and come for me – even if I had to kind of trick you into following me."

  She shook her head, eyes suspiciously bright. "You – oh, Vincent, why couldn't you just –"

  Danielle was sobbing now. "Can you two stop this right now? It's really freaking me out. All these little heartwarming scenes always happen right before the main character dies in the movie – and you!" She grabbed her brother's shirt collar. "You definitely can't die on me, brat!"

  He grimaced. "Yeesh, get away from me. You're dripping on me." He sighed. "If I knew that all I needed was you or even some random girl to phone in and pretend to be '', then I wouldn't have thought up this whole 'getting injured by Frank so that Mother can get the police on my behalf' plan. It'll be ultimately less painful at least."

  Danielle chuckled even as tears spilled down her cheeks. "That's why you should always discuss things with me first because you know that I got all the intelligent genes."

  "Hardy har har," Vincent croaked. He shifted, his face contorting in pain. "There's no way in hell am I going to die here. I still have to have the reunion scene with Sammy – which reminds me -" He tried to sit up again, but his mother quickly pushed him back down. "Mom! I need to find Sammy!"

  "If you move, you'll probably start up the bleeding again so just let the police come and do the saving."

  Vincent shook his head. "So this is why heroes in movies don't bring their mothers along when they rescue their girlfriends." He pressed his hand against his abdomen and winced. "Mom, I don't know how Sammy is. What if she's hurt? What if she's –"

  "You will let the paramedics come and treat you. The police will handle the rest," Katherine said firmly.

  Vincent moved and clenched his teeth as another wave of pain wracked him. "Danielle? Can you find –"

  Sirens blared in a shrill, surging rhythm. Carrie ran in. "The police! They're here! They're finally here!"

  Katherine looked up. "And the paramedics? Is there an ambulance?"

  "Yes. Yes, I think so!"

  Frank shook his head. "You can't do this. Give up. They – they can't search my house without a search warrant. You can't do this. You all can't beat me."

  Caine retorted, "Shut up, asshole. You're in no position to talk now."

  Will sighed, "I can't believe the longest time I've ever spent lying on top of a man is here. Just block it out, Will. Traumatic memories are a no no."

  A group of police officers barreled through the doors then. "What the –"

  One thin man with a thick brown moustache stepped forward. "Mrs. Grenford, what's going on?"

  Katherine stood up, adjusted her blood stained suit and cleared her throat. "Sergeant Davis, about time."

  The officers actually appeared
chagrined.

  She continued, "My son is hurt. He needs medical attention. As for Frank Westlane –" She paused to shoot the man a particularly nasty glare. "- he's the one who stabbed my son and then tried to hurt me with that letter opener over there. Vincent's friends are, uh, currently restraining him."

  "I – I see." Sergeant Davis nodded and two of his men stepped forward to fish Frank out. They handcuffed him while reading him his rights. Several paramedics filed in through the door then and Mrs. Grenford quickly waved them over.

  Vincent shook his head. "No."

  "Vincent!"

  "Sammy. Get Sammy first. I'm not going to sit here and get bandaged up while Sammy's still alone and frightened in some room in this very house." He shook his head again while pressing his hand tight against his wound. "Find her first."

  Frank shook his head and sniggered darkly. "Samantha's dead."

  If it was even possible, Vincent's complexion turned even more white. "What the hell did you just say?"

  Frank laughed. "If she's not dead, then she should be close to it. I hope she ends up like her damn brother. If not, then – then I hope she ends up a raving lunatic. I hope she will remember this always and never forget the pain and the knowledge. Reality! So bitter! So red! Her hair! Ah, her hair – her blood. Beautiful Samantha. Beautiful Claire. Then where will you be, huh? Where will you be, James? You will never save her from me. You will all die. You –"

  Vincent shot up from his seat on the couch and slammed his fist into Frank's face, crushing the words back into his throat. He continued pummeling and pounding until two other officers finally managed to pull him off. Frank hung limply in the grip of Sergeant Davis, blood dripping from his nose. Still, Vincent strained forward.

  Katherine frantically spoke, "Vincent, please! You're going to hurt yourself!"

  Frank mumbled feebly, "I should have bashed her head in more, had I known all this will happen."

  The sound of blood roared in Vincent's ears and he shrugged off the officers. This time, instead of reaching for Frank's neck, he turned around and ran out of the room.

  "Vincent!"

  He ignored it all. Slipping and sliding across the marble floor that was now polished with Frank and his blood, he ran. Through the lobby and up the stairs, he knew he left a trail a crimson blood behind – like gingerbread crumbs. Sammy once told him that she didn't like the story of Hansel and Gretel – that she felt it was too gruesome for children.