False Facades (Best Sellers: Best Romance/Humor )

by Martha Greenwood

  "Boo hoo. Cry me a river. My heart just throbs for you."

  "Say, aren't you like supposed to be madly in love with Sammy as well? What happened?"

  Tristan narrowed his eyes at him. "Who told you that? What do you mean what happened?"

  Caine shrugged and stretched his arms up over his head. "It isn't that hard to see. Shouldn't you be really jealous and running around smashing things?"

  "I believe you have me mistaken with the Hulk . . . or Vincent."

  "Boy, your feelings for her must have been pretty shallow then –" Caine suddenly found himself thrown up against the wall. Tristan fixated a unnerving gaze on him, pinning him with his arm. The book fell in a fluttered heap by their feet.

  Icy blue eyes glittered as Tristan enunciated clearly, "I'm never just 'playing around' so I'll have you know that when I care for someone, you can be sure that my feelings are true. I don't know what your relationships are like, but I typically prefer to be a gentleman and if Sammy chooses Vincent and she's happy, then I damn well will respect her decision even if it kills me. So kindly let me be respectful and kill myself about this without your little inputs!"

  Caine blinked. "Okay."

  Tristan loosened his grip and backed away, running a hand through his hair. He breathed heavily as he looked away. "Alrighty then." He bent down to pick up his discarded book.

  "Tristan?"

  He grunted.

  "You really are quite a gentleman."

  Tristan glanced over at his friend in surprise.

  "But that isn't always a good thing." Caine grinned crookedly. "That's why I hope you'll find yourself a girl one day who'll actually be able to make you forget all about being a proper gentleman and allow you to just be yet another reckless teenager in love."

  Tristan chuckled, "I don't know. I'm never much for conformity."

  The other boy laughed. Then a peculiar expression swept across his features. "You know, I've also been wondering . . ."

  His roommate cocked his head in puzzlement. "What?"

  * * *

  "Well . . . I don't know about Vincent since my brother has been pretty much stupid about these things but well . . ." Danielle trailed off yet again.

  "What? What?" Will switched the phone to his other ear. "What is it?"

  * * *

  "It's just that I'm kind of . . . worried about Sammy. I - I've heard that all boys think about it all the time – oh please don't take offense, Jack, but . . ." Carrie seemed to be too embarrassed to continue.

  "Huh?"

  * * *

  ". . . but now that Vincent knows and they're together, do you think nighttime activities might get a tad more, well, friskier?" Caine waggled his eyebrows.

  Although Danielle and Carrie might have been a tad bit more tactful about their wording, their unexpected questions still carried over the same meaning and impact on their recipients – and all three boys managed to skillfully sum up their whole reactions in one word.

  "WHAT?"

  * * *

  "So what had your facial expressions all contorted before?"

  Sammy sagged. "I knew you wouldn't forget it so easily."

  "Nope," Vincent agreed, trailing a finger lazily against Sammy's shoulder.

  She moved to get off his lap but he tightened his hold again. "Where are you going?"

  "I'm crushing you, Vince."

  "Pfft. You weigh as much as a peanut."

  Rolling her eyes, she smiled. "Gee, thanks, but it's still getting kind of awkward. I'm going to develop a Santa Claus complex soon."

  He grinned. "Ho ho ho."

  "Yeah, yeah."

  "So? What's up?"

  She shrugged. "It was nothing really. I just had this … weird feeling in the pit of my stomach."

  "Weird? As in 'I'm gonna hurl' or 'Cirque de Soleil are practicing in my stomach'?"

  "I don't know. Perhaps a mixture of both?"

  "Huh."

  "I'm probably feeling a bit paranoid. I keep thinking that . . ." She trailed off.

  Vincent hugged the girl to him. "Don't worry. Even if he can get past the security, he'll still have to get through the rest of us. Believe me, when we put our minds to it, we can form quite an impassable border."

  She pressed her forehead to his neck, feeling the steady beat of the pulse course through her body. "I know, I know. Thank you."

  "Mmm . . . you want to go for a walk then? Perhaps some fresh air might soothe your nerves?"

  "Mmm . . . perhaps. Okay."

  * * *

  Frank Westlane was about to collapse. The rain had finally stopped, but the sun was setting and a dark gloom fell over the trees. It didn't seem like Samantha was going to be outside today. Damn it. He sniffed, wiping his nose with his wrangled handkerchief. He slammed his fist into the tree and immediately winced in pain.

  As he cradled his hand and prepared to turn around, his eyes caught on the most beautiful sight in the world. Glorious red hair.

  He crouched low behind the tree, his soggy shoes making squishy sounds. He narrowed his eyes as he peered at the building. Samantha.

  * * *

  Sammy shivered and she turned to look out the glass doors she just passed by. Raven darkness and the whispery soft rustling of shrubbery met her. Squinting in concentration, she took a step closer to the glass pane. Is there something out there? A jolt of alarm sprinkled over her skin, sending goose bumps surfacing. Her hand trembled as she reached up to touch the cool surface.

  "Sammy?"

  She jumped and turned around to smile shakily at Vincent. "Hmm?"

  His eyebrows furrowed and he moved closer to touch her shoulder. "What's the matter? You stopped all of a sudden. Something out there?"

  "No. I didn't see anything. I – I think I'm just jumpy today." She cocked her head to look at the sky. "No moon tonight. So dark outside."

  "Yeah. Are you sure you're okay?" He studied her with a frown on his face. "You want to head back now?"

  Smiling softly, she nodded before reaching out to slip a hand through his. The warmth immediately enveloped her and he grinned dazzlingly. "Let's go."

  * * *

  Just as Frank was about to lose his impatience and jump out to drag Samantha from the doors she was hiding behind, a dark haired boy came to the girl's side. He cursed.

  He recognized the boy to be Mrs. Grenford's own son and that definitely presented more problems. Then he watched the boy reach up to touch Samantha and his blood almost erupted in rage. How dare he touch her so intimately? Who does he think he is? When Samantha leaned into the touch, Frank's eyes almost popped out his sockets. That slut!

  His fists tightened until his nails dug into his palms as he watched the two speak briefly. The soft smiles they were exchanging sent a horrible feeling swirling in the pit of his stomach.

  The final blow came when Samantha turned to leave. Actually daring to reach out and allowing her hand to be encompassed by the boy's sweaty palm. Frank watched in utter disbelief as the couple walked away. Numbness settled over him as he shook his head slowly. His lips contorted in a grimace as he roared internally. No!

  He whirled around and staggered his way back to the car as he struggled to think clearly. What to do now . . . what to do . . . She'll be missed. The damn slut. She found herself a nice rich boy. Stupid whore!

  He wrenched open the door and collapsed into the driver's seat, breathing heavily. Finally unclenching his hands, he smoothed them over the dashboard. A strange smile pulled at his lips. No matter. You've left me no other choice now, Samantha. He always had back up plans.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  "Come on."

  "No."

  "You know you want it."

  "No. I don't." Pause. "Really."

  "Come on. Please? Do it for me?"

  "No. Vincent, I – I just can't."

  "Why not?"

  "I just can't! Go away."

  "Come on, Sammy. It'll feel sooo good. Don't you want it?"

  There was a
longer pause. "No. I don't. Stop pressuring me, Vincent. What kind of a boyfriend are you?"

  "A boyfriend who just loves you very much. Now the question is – do you love me?"

  "Oh please. Vincent, just give up."

  There was a suspicious rustling sound and then Sammy nearly shrieked, "What are you doing? Get that away from me!"

  "That's it." Will pushed the other eavesdropping boys out of the way before he kicked the door down. Well, tried to. He grimaced as a jolt of pain hurtled through his foot. "Crap. This is a lot harder than it's shown in the movies."

  Tristan shoved him out of the way. "Or we could try the doorknob first." The door opened easily and he gave Will a pointed look.

  Will scoffed. "Oh please. How was I supposed to know it was unlocked? You would think Vince would at least secure the lock before making any advances on Sammy."

  Tristan nodded. "Ah, but that's the point. You would think. I've learned not to expect much from Grenford."

  The door opened all the way as Vincent folded his arms, a dark glare on his face. "And you would think that some people would learn not to insult others while standing on their doorsteps."

  Jack and Caine tried to peer around Vincent's shoulders. Caine whispered excitedly, "Do you see anything? Huh? Huh?"

  Jack shook his head as he went up on his tiptoes. "No. Vincent's just blocking the whole damn view."

  Vincent arched an eyebrow. "Just what exactly are you looking for?"

  "Well, duh. Sammy's naked, gorgeous self," Caine chirped. The blonde boy was immediately kicked out of the doorway.

  "SAMMY! SAMMY! ARE YOU OKAY? ARE YOU? I'M HERE! DON'T WORRY! I'LL RESCUE YOU!" Will's screaming into his ear didn't help Vincent's temper much either.

  Sammy peered around Vincent's shoulder and blinked. "What are you guys doing here?"

  "RESCU – oof!" Will reeled back from the impact of Vince's palm making contact with his forehead.

  "Sammy says I have violent tendencies so . . . please stop screaming in my ear. Thank you," Vincent declared gracefully, albeit a bit belatedly. Will was still rubbing his forehead, which was now turning a dull red.

  "Why do I need rescuing?" Sammy cocked her head to one side.

  "Vincent's forcing himself on you!"

  "Wh – what?" Sammy's eyes widened, her cheeks flushed, and her hands dropped limply next to her sides. "He's what?" She looked over at Vincent. "You're what?"

  "WHAT?" A dull flush spread over Vincent's cheeks and his hands clenched into two impressive fists.

  They were particularly impressive to the boys lingering on the doorstep, who were quite in the near vicinity for those fists to make some pretty impressive contact.

  "Oh boy." Jack tried to laugh even as he started to back away. "I hope that was a guilty WHAT and not a 'What the hell are you talking about and I'm just about to pummel you' WHAT."

  * * *

  Frank was busy realizing that his ideas for reinforcement weren't so . . . reinforcing after all. He rubbed his face in weary frustration before straightening up. He was going to try again - and again - and again – and he wasn't going to stop until the stupid woman finally got his meaning.

  "Yes," he sighed loudly. "Yes, my nephew has run away for quite some time now. I have no idea where he went. He should be fairly easy to recognize, what with his brilliant orangehair and green eyes and small build . . ." His eyes slanted over to the woman hopefully, waiting for a glimmer of recognition.

  Mrs. Grenford just made a bored, humming sound, her eyes still perusing some documents on her table.

  He sighed loudly.

  "If you need to go to the restroom or something, stop sighing, go now and get it over with before I throw something at you," she snapped. Well, with their tempers, no one ever did say Vincent wasn't her son.

  His patience finally shattered and he decided to go for the direct approach. "You know, Mrs. Grenford, I do believe I recall something about you mentioning a Sam Westlane at your delightful Christmas party . . ."

  She arched an eyebrow. "Yes. What about it?"

  He widened his eyes, trying to convey an expression of shock and hope. "Oh! Then perhaps, maybe . . . could it be? I didn't dare hope that he would have been so close but now, after thinking it over – yes! It does make perfect sense now! He was always so – so – but wait. You say he's a good friend of Vincent?"

  She frowned, clearly uncomfortable with the fact that she seemed to be in the dark about something. "Well, I wouldn't exactly say that they are good friends . . . but yes, they're roommates and their relationship is pretty amiable."

  His eyes turned plate sized again, this time trying to express horror. "Oh my. Oh dear. Oh dear, dear . . ."

  * * *

  "You mean he was just trying to force you to eat a cupcake?"

  Sammy nodded with a frown, still pink with embarrassment.

  "Well . . . he wasn't even doing something kinky with the cream filling or something?"

  Vincent shot Will a lethal, death glare.

  "No." Her cheeks reddened. "I've been trying to watch my weight lately and well, Vince was becoming a bit concerned –"

  "It's not healthy to just have a salad at every meal! You need protein, carbohydrates -"

  "And you thought to seek that in a cupcake?" Tristan inquired dryly.

  "Well, of course not! I was merely trying to … lure her back to the realm of good food before moving on to the steaks and such."

  "Ah, bribe her first with dessert, then slap her with the meat."

  Sammy interrupted. "I don't see what's the big deal. I mean, after these months of gorging myself as a boy, I don't see why I can't cut back on my food intake now . . ."

  "As long as you take everything in moderation, you shouldn't even need to worry about going on a diet!"

  "But – but – I'm so bloated now. I look like a pig!"

  "No, you don't! How many times do I need to repeat it? You're fine the way you are."

  Sammy nodded, smiling softly up at him. Then she turned her back on him and asked the others, "So, what do you guys think?"

  * * *

  Frank had been afraid that he had overdone it a bit with all the "Oh dears", but it turned out Mrs. Grenford had bought it anyway. She sat up straight in her chair and pierced him with one of her "peer down the nose, sniff arrogantly, arch an eyebrow" looks.

  "What in the world are you blathering about?"

  "My nephew ran away from home for quite some time now. His name is Samuel Westlane and after my dear brother and his wife met their horrible fate in a car crash, the boy has been simply impossible to handle. He has always had a bit of a cruel, devilish nature in him – enjoyed trampling on small animals, setting fire to the house when he was little, and such - but we thought it was merely a childhood phase that would simply disappear once he matured. Ah, I see now that it is an innate part of his character and he is simply a poor, disturbed soul. I should have taken every precaution –"

  "Are you saying your crazy nephew ran away and enrolled himself in Creston?"

  Frank nodded.

  "Are you saying your nephew – who very well might be an arsonist and an animal torturer – is now my son's roommate?"

  "Well . . . yes."

  Her eyes spat fire. "When I first mentioned Sam Westlane and when you saw him at my house, WHY DIDN'T YOU HAUL HIM OFF TO AN ASYLUM THEN?"

  Oh shit. Time for some major BS. "Well, I just caught a brief glimpse of him and I wasn't sure if he was – we always called him Samuel. Your son didn't seem to mention any problems with him to you either so I thought that maybe he wasn't my nephew."

  Her voice became shrewd, coolly calculating. "Then why now? What made you decide he could very well be your nephew?"

  Frank gulped, but he shrugged. "Well, I don't really know, but I figured I should warn you at the very least, you know, in case it turned out that he is really my nephew and that –"

  "And that Creston suddenly goes up in flames one night? Or that my son is found dead in hi
s room one day? What were you thinking to inform me so late?" She snarled.

  Frank suppressed a smile. "Well, why don't you just find someone to pull Sam Westlane out of the school and then you could hand him over to me so that –"

  She waved a hand. "No."

  "What?"

  "No. As you said before, Vincent didn't mention having any problems to me, so I can probably imagine that this Sam isn't your lunatic of a nephew. Besides, when I met Sam, I didn't detect any trait of mental problems and such – no, he was simply a sniveling, little boy who'd seem to be the type that'll be afraid of his own shadow. Thus, case closed. That's that. Good luck finding your crazy boy." She turned her attention back to the articles spread out before her.

  Ah, crap. What now? Uhhh . . . ah. "Perhaps I forgot to mention that Samuel can be such a good actor? Sometimes, he likes to . . . play with his victims before making his final kill."

  Mrs. Grenford's eyes slanted over to gage the man and Frank chose his every word carefully.

  "Samuel also has other . . . disturbing interests."

  "Like what?"

  "To be frank, Samuel has always expressed an attraction to his own sex and I'm just afraid that with his cunning wiles, he might have persuaded your dear son over to the dark side."Dark side. Was that too over the top?

  The woman curled her lips. "While I'm not exactly supportive of homosexuality, I would hardly call it the "dark side". Besides, Vincent has a friend, William, who's quite open about his own sexuality and had my son had any sort of an inclination for his own sex, I would imagine William would have already influenced him ages ago."

  Frank gritted his teeth. Damn. Knew I shouldn't have used that stupid term. Where the hell did I pick that up from? He enunciated carefully, brushing at his sleeve nonchalantly. "Well, sometimes, it isn't a matter of when, but who. Sometimes, if you happen upon the right person – and I'm not saying Samuel is – but if you're met with a whole-hearted seduction and you're not prepared to see through the lies, even the most intelligent men can get swept off by the tide. Has Vincent seemed any different lately? Is he particularly protective of his roommate?"