The Lost Girl

by Lilian Carmine

  He wasn’t wearing his gray beanie any more; his long, dark-blond locks fell sexily over his eyes now. He stopped by my side, smiling, and gave a short wave to the audience, who applauded him even more.

  But … but … How could that be? I knew Caleb Jones. I mean, I’d seen him on TV shows, interviews, music store posters – and he did not look like this! Caleb Jones had a thick beard and really short hair. He had vivid blue eyes. And he did not act like a chauvinistic caveman! This Caleb standing right here by my side had long hair falling over his face, no beard at all, almost-gray eyes, and he was certainly very chauvinistic!

  He stopped waving at the audience and focused for the first time on my surprised face. He frowned ever so slightly, a hint of recognition drifting across his face, and then it hit him too. He grinned wickedly at me, that irritating smirk back in place. I was still too shocked to react.

  And then he did the unthinkable: he took a step closer and held me in a very tight hug as if we were long-lost friends. For a second, I almost thought he was going to squeeze my bum, but he contained himself – only just, I might add – and his hands slid dangerously towards the small of my back.

  He noticed that I was about to protest and quickly whispered into my ear, “Hey, Snappy. Nice seeing you again.” And he stepped back, a victorious glint bright in his gray-blue eyes.

  He turned from me to the microphone. He was about to give his acknowledgement speech. That was my cue to step back and walk inconspicuously offstage. As he began making his speech I couldn’t help cursing him under my breath.

  I stayed at our table with the boys for the rest of the evening. Our performance had gone smoothly and afterwards we’d been surprised to win Best Album of the Year. We’d been rushed onstage to collect the award and give our acknowledgment speeches. Tristan and Seth had done most of the talking, while Sam and Harry did their funny gimmicks and made jokes. Like me, Josh wasn’t very fond of public speaking so we stayed at the back.

  Most people were already drifting off to the afterparty, so we followed the crowd. The boys went ahead, all excited and looking handsome in their fancy black suits, while Tristan and I tagged along behind. Tristan looked stunning in his tailored black suit, with a long-sleeved black shirt and silk black tie. As we walked, his hand rested protectively on the small of my back.

  “I’m glad you’re with me now to clear the way. I’m one bump away from falling to the floor in these blasted heels,” I said to him. Tristan had such an awe-inspiring presence, he could part any crowd.

  “What are you talking about, Joe?” Tristan asked with a tender smile. “They are parting to let you pass, not me. You look like a princess.” He turned to look at me, a mesmerizing glint in his eyes. “It’s really endearing how clueless you are about it.”

  I laughed and waved my hand at him, not quite believing his flattering words.

  We were surrounded by people as soon as we walked inside the oval room where the party was being held in the ceremonial chamber at the concert hall. I tried to stick by Tristan’s side, but people kept calling me over to them. Tristan went to the other side of the room to congratulate a fellow musician on their award, so we ended up drifting apart in the swarm of people which buzzed relentlessly around us.

  Every time I caught a glimpse of Tristan he was surrounded by women. It was kind of annoying how any female in a room always managed to make a beeline for him. Although I guessed Tristan also had to deal with the male attention that was directed towards me too, so I tried to not let it bother me. I was not going to be that girl who threw jealous fits, like Miss Jackie Sunford.

  That said, my cool demeanor was blown into thin air when I saw the woman who was leaning over Tristan. Jessica. Or, as I liked to call her, Jessica Red, because she always wore red wherever she went.

  Jessica was the kind of woman every man fantasized about, with her long chocolate hair falling daintily over plump red lips; long legs, thin waist and huge breasts. She was a femme fatale and also the queen of seduction. Jessica didn’t walk, she swayed. She didn’t talk, she purred. And she liked to toy with men like they were assorted candy. A man-eater if ever I saw one.

  The most important name on her list of desired conquests was Tristan: he was her dream guy, and she made no secret of it. She treated him as if he were the ultimate prize. He was the guy who had dismissed her over and over again, and apparently she’d vowed to make him crawl at her feet at any cost. Every time I saw her, she was trying to make a move on Tristan. I hated her guts.

  As I watched Jessica rubbing herself all over him, all my self-control went out the window. I marched over there, fists balled at my sides and my jaw clenched. I grabbed his hand hard and yanked him away from her.

  “Hey, Tristan, sorry to interrupt” – not sorry at all, dude – “but I need to talk to you urgently.” And by talk I mean slap you senseless for letting her rub all over you like that. “Come with me.” Or I swear to God someone will die very soon.

  I turned around and pulled him with me without waiting for a reply. We hurried to the other side of the room, and when we stopped Tristan looked at me with a relieved smile.

  “Thanks. She had me cornered there and I couldn’t escape no matter how hard I tried. I was trying to catch your eye for a while, you know, to see if you could intervene and rescue me.” He chuckled.

  “You were?” I asked, a little taken aback. I had so been preparing an angry speech. Lucky I had kept my mouth shut.

  “Yeah … for about fifteen minutes.”

  “Oh, erm, sorry about that.”

  “That’s okay,” he said, smiling “You were very … efficient … bailing me out. Not very subtle, but very efficient.”

  “Sorry again,” I apologized, embarrassed. “But I had to act; she was one second away from shoving her boobs in your face!”

  He let out one of his sexy laughs just as Seth appeared out of the blue and grabbed our arms.

  “Hey, guys. Quick, follow me! You won’t believe who wants to talk to you!” he said, pulling us in a fluster. He hurtled us through the crowd and straight into a more secluded part of the room, where Sam, Josh and Tiffany were already waiting with three other people. One of the guys I’d never seen before, but another was the guy who had appeared backstage shouting at Caleb – and the third was Caleb Jones.

  “Guys, found them!” Seth shouted, beckoning us over. “This is Tristan Halloway and Joe Gray. Guys, this is Caleb and The Accidentals, Neil and Lee. Haha.” He laughed to himself. “Why am I telling you that? Of course you know them; who doesn’t know The Accidentals, right?” Seth had clearly gone into fan-boy mode.

  Tristan’s eyes widened a little. I could see that he and all of the other boys were trying to act cool to impress Caleb and his band. Seth was still freaking out. I didn’t know he was that much of a fan.

  Tristan extended his hand and introduced himself. Trying to be inconspicuous, I shifted closer to Tiffany and Seth – they were standing the farthest away from Caleb in the circle – as the rest of the introductions were made.

  Caleb kept taking sly peeks in my direction while he congratulated Tristan on our performance, and I noticed that slowly he continued manoeuvering himself around the circle to get closer to me.

  I excused myself, saying I needed to find Harry – he was going to be devastated to know he had missed meeting The Accidentals – and darted quickly away.

  Nobody paid much attention except for Caleb. He watched me disappear into the crowd with a mixture of disappointment and surprise in his eyes. He couldn’t understand why I wasn’t interested in him, why I wasn’t hovering around him like all the other girls did, and why, even after I had discovered who he truly was, after we had been formally introduced, I still ran from him.

  He wasn’t to know I had one of the most charming rock stars already in my arms.

  Chapter Twelve

  Baby and Doll

  We didn’t stay long at the afterparty.

  Harry was beyond upset by the time we go
t him home. The harassment he had suffered at the party had been non-stop, with people endlessly asking about his break-up. He had drunk a lot, so Tristan and I decided to drag him home before people started talking. It took me quite some time to get him to cool down.

  It seemed like I had only been sleeping a couple hours when Sam woke me up by knocking softly on the door. “Sorry to wake you, Joey,” he whispered, evidently trying not to wake Tristan too. “But, erm, it’s just that Harry isn’t feeling well … huge hangover. Seth and Tiff aren’t in good shape, either, and Amanda isn’t here. There’s too many sick people and I’m not so sure what to do …”

  I leaned on my elbows and rubbed my eyes wearily. “Honey, the kids are crying again,” I mumbled at Tristan, smiling.

  “… went last time … your turn,” he grunted in a muffled voice, his face buried deep in the pillow.

  “Swell,” I muttered under my breath, and tossed the sheets away from me, getting out of bed.

  Becca arrived after lunch to collect a couple of Lost Boys for a quick meeting at Mr. Silver’s office. We were needed for some poster approvals for the marketing department and a few press releases about the band. Tristan was the only one in any condition to deal with work, so he left with Becca. I stayed home to rest a little.

  It was late in the afternoon when he arrived back from the record label’s office to find me waiting for him with a little surprise.

  “You all owe me big time for going out to work while you all stayed here lazing around and relaxing,” he called out as he walked into the bedroom. From the en suite bathroom I could hear him slumping down on the bed and tossing his shoes away.

  “I know, I’ve been waiting for you to come home so I can repay you,” I said as I walked in wearing a pearly babydoll slip that Tiffany had made especially for me.

  The main lights in the room were out; only the shimmering yellow glow from the bedside lamp illuminated the room.

  “If you’re planning to give me a free massage, I’m all—” he started to say, but then he stopped.

  “I was thinking of something else, but if you want the massage—” I stopped too. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” I grazed my fingers lightly through his hair.

  He looked down very slowly and placed both his hands around my waist. “You …”

  “Something’s wrong with me?”

  “No … nothing’s wrong. I just … want to have a good look at you,” he said, his eyes roaming over my body. “Baby and doll are indeed the first words that come to mind.” He slipped the lace shoulder strings carefully down over my shoulders. “You … look amazing.”

  I looked down at myself, feeling the heat of his stare on every inch of my skin, and smiled, pleased with his reaction. “I take it you like it, then? I thought this would be a good way to compensate you for going to that meeting alone.”

  “Oh, it compensates all right,” he stated firmly, grabbing my waist and pulling me closer. “You can compensate me more, if you want to.” He lay me down on the bed and leaned over me.

  I was about to give a witty comeback when he crushed his lips against mine. All thoughts escaped my mind. He kissed me with so much hunger that it left me reeling in bliss. His hands roamed urgently over my body while mine grabbed fistfuls of his hair, my fingers sliding through dark locks in my haste to pull him closer. We rolled in bed as if a storm was engulfing us both, taking away all our restraint and leaving only need and longing. Our mouths crashed and merged into one. I dug my fingers into his back, feeling his muscles bulge and strain with every move. As I clung to him fiercely, fighting to breathe him in, taste him, feel him, the heat of his skin burned beneath my fingertips. He finally gave in and lost himself in me completely.

  He pushed himself on top of me in wild abandon, his breathing uneven and labored as he let a throaty moan escape his lips in blissful release.

  “That … was … amazing,” he said between gasps a few moments later. “Sorry about … the haste. Couldn’t control … myself.” He dropped back onto the bed next to me.

  “That’s okay. You call it haste, I call it rampantly voracious.” I smiled, slightly breathless as well.

  He pulled me close and snuggled his face in the crook of my neck, his strong arms enveloping me firmly. “You know, I’ve missed being with you,” he said.

  “You’re with me all the time, Tris.” I chuckled, grazing my fingers through his hair.

  “You know what I mean. I miss being with you, like right now,” he said, trailing his fingers lightly over my hips. “I don’t know … I feel like we are always too busy these days, dealing with work all the time. Life keeps getting in the way. I hardly get to be with you. I mean, really with you. I don’t know if I’m making any sense … We are with each other, but we’re not together.”

  “But I’m with you now,” I said, laying my hand on top of his. “Can you feel it?”

  “Yeah.” He smiled, interlacing our fingers. Silence surrounded us like a comfortable blanket. After a while he said, “If you’re really with me, let me tell the world you’re my girlfriend. I get that you are not marrying me … yet. But throw me a bone, at least.”

  That was absolutely true. Tristan had asked me to marry him many times since we’d started out as a band, three years ago. With respect to his Fifties mindset and old-fashioned upbringing, we should have married soon after graduation. If it had been up to him we would have tied the knot even before that. He didn’t understand what was taking me so long to finally agree to marry him. The first time he’d proposed I had freaked out big time. We were still in our last year at school. The second time, we had just started our careers and there was so much work to do, and so many tours yet to play. We had all the time in the world, I thought, so why did he want to rush into it?

  He had been very disappointed the first time I said no, but he hadn’t given up. He pressed the question year after year. After a while he got used to me declining. I kept telling him it was just not the right time. I liked the way things were. Why mess up something that was working just fine?

  “I get it, Joe. You’re not ready. I can wait for as long as you need,” he would say.

  But why was I so strongly resisting coming clean about my relationship with Tristan? Seth had done it. Harry and Sam – and even Josh – didn’t care about announcing whichever girl they were seeing. Why were we still hiding our relationship? What was I so afraid of?

  For a while I’d told myself it was because of our record label demanding we keep it a secret. But then again, there was always something getting in the way; every time I thought about coming clean, a problem appeared: a busy tour, accidents at bookstores, Harry’s break-up, award ceremonies. There was always an excuse. As Tristan put it, there was always one more problem to deal with. What was my excuse now?

  There was no good excuse. But I knew deep down the reason I avoided this so much. Because I knew the next step was going to be marriage. And once we’d publicly announced that we were together, I really would have to say yes to Tristan’s proposals, no matter if I was ready or not. The whole world would be pressuring me then. And I wanted to accept him not out of fear, or pressure, but because of my heart.

  So I kept stalling. And left Tristan in suspense all this time. That wasn’t right, either. Maybe it was time to let this secret out. Once and for all. Maybe it was time to face my fears.

  “You’re right. I have been stalling for too long. We should tell everybody,” I finally agreed.

  “Are you serious?” he asked, stunned.

  “Yes. I’m dead serious. Any time you want. You decide.”

  I closed our deal with a deep kiss.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Sneak Attack!

  At the news of our “outing”, the boys decided to throw Tristan a “bachelor party”. They were treating it as if we were officially getting married now, which annoyed me greatly and also confirmed my deepest fears. My closest friends had already started with the pressure. I could well imagine how the rest of
the world was going to behave after they got the news.

  Tristan and the boys had gone to a club to celebrate his last day as a “single man”. I’d rolled my eyes at their jesting, but let them get on with their party. Although I suspected that this was just an excuse for the guys to go out clubbing without the girlfriends.

  Tiffany had cancelled on me – a job emergency was going to keep her busy all night in her studio – so I was left to celebrate my “last night as a single lady” on my own, which amounted to falling sleep on the couch while watching a stupid reality show.

  Yeah. Wild party girl, that was me.

  I woke up in the middle of the night to thunder rattling the window panes and with this eerie feeling rising inside my chest, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up and goosebumps rise all over my arms.

  I blinked, quickly switching to full alertness. I knew what those shivers were all about now.

  So, tonight was going to be the night.

  I had wondered how long it would take the sneaky shadow creature to come back to haunt me again … It had certainly taken long enough.

  Another rumble of thunder cracked loudly outside. The shadows in the living room danced around me, but this time I didn’t panic, I didn’t run.

  I was prepared. I had mulled over this plan ever since after the award ceremony. I was going to catch that devious thing, and tonight was the night!

  A floorboard creaked at the other side of the room. This thing could be anywhere! My body screamed for me to run, warning me of imminent danger, but I forced myself to keep still.

  Lightning flashed outside like it was trying to scare me too. I looked at the windows and bit my lip. A few drops of rain were splattering over the windows, with the threat of more to come. A summer storm wasn’t going to help me with my plan. But it was not like I could reschedule another meeting with this thing, for when the time was a little more convenient. It was here now, and I had to deal with it, with or without rain.

  I needed to remain calm. It wouldn’t do me any good to panic. Creaks and snaps sounded from everywhere in the room; from the corners of my eyes I could see shadows move in quickly, and I swore I could feel something brush lightly over my ankle. But I still didn’t run. Or scream. Or even flinch. It took all my willpower to make me stay still.