The Lies of Pride

by Lily Zante

  Oh, heck, no.

  I shouldn’t have started this. Delivering lunch, agreeing to do it just because Frankie asked. I shouldn’t have been so chatty last time. It’s given him the wrong idea that he can ask me whatever he wants.

  “Sorry, I have to rush back. Things are crazy hectic back at the diner.”

  “And you returning will make all the difference?”

  “Yes.” I will not talk about Grampton House to him. Even Elias and I don’t talk about that time.

  “Thanks for lunch.

  I rush towards the door, and before I can say, “You’re welcome,” I run bang into his assistant.

  “Ooops, sorry,” she says, as we bump arms.

  I can’t get away fast enough.

  * * *

  CALLUM

  * * *

  She’s not in the mood for talking today. I watch as she leaves, then crashes into Dottie who’s on her way in.

  “What did you say to her?” Dottie asks, handing me over the vitamin supplements I asked her to get for me.

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Tell me again why she’s delivering takeout here every day?”

  I pull out my wrap and the milkshake from the bag, and set myself down, ready to eat. “Because Frankie’s has the best food in Chicago.”

  Dottie raises an eyebrow. “Is that the only reason?”

  “That’s the only reason. Can I eat my lunch in peace?” I pick up Elias’s biography and start to read it while eating my wrap.

  Chapter Fifteen

  NINA

  * * *

  I’ve finished my assignment. It’s late evening, and the place isn’t particularly busy.

  I bite my lip, as I see Frankie wiping down the tables. I should be doing that, but she knows I’ve been stressing about finishing my assignment, and she ordered me to sit in the corner and get it done.

  So, I did.

  I close my books, and yawn.

  When I look up, Frankie’s at the table, looking down at me with disapproval written across her face. “Looks to me like you need to get to bed.”

  “I’ve got a class tonight.”

  “You and your night classes,” she spits the words out with contempt.

  Yawning again, I glance at my watch, and see that I’m late. I’ve got twenty minutes to make it to my class, and I can do it if I run to the train station and run to my class at the other end. I might be a few minutes late.

  “I have to hand in my assignment,” I say, yawning again as I start to I pack my things away quickly. I hope I sleep better tonight.

  “I shouldn’t say this, as the owner, but you’re too good for this place. I don’t understand why you’ve never taken up your brother’s offer to go and work for him?”

  “Work for him and give up this?” I sweep my arm around the diner.

  Frankie waggles her finger at me. “You come here for the company; don’t think I don’t know.”

  “I love working here, Frankie. This place is like my second home.”

  “You’ve got a job here for life, but what are you doing all these night classes for? You’ve been doing them for as long as I’ve known you. What are you doing, a Phd?”

  “I wish,” I mutter. I’d like to be a doctor of something. Dr. Nina Cardoza. It has a nice ring to it. I wonder if that will fix me? If it will miraculously make me feel worthy.

  “Then do that,” Frankie insists. “Elias is in a position to help you. Let him.”

  “I don’t want his help.”

  “You’re too damn stubborn.”

  I turn my back to her as I zip up my bag.

  “Well, hello there,” I hear her say, in a voice that hints at flirtation. I wonder who she’s talking to and I turn around to the tall and muscular form that is Callum Sandersby standing in front of me. What’s he doing here at this time of night?

  “Hey, Nina.” He looks directly at me.

  “Hey,” I reply, and at the same time I’m relieved that I have a night class I can escape to.

  “You’re leaving?” he asks, when I put my bag over my shoulder and get ready to leave.

  “Night school,” Frankie tells him.

  “Night school?” Callum echoes, as if it’s the greatest surprise. “You go to night school? I had no idea.”

  I move past him. “Why would you?”

  “Because we’re friends? Because we see one another every day.” He grins and it annoys me, so I walk away, towards the door, and shout out a ‘‘Bye’ to Frankie. I glance behind to find that he is following me. “We’re not closing,” I tell him, as I catch his reflection in the door. “Frankie’s still here. She’ll serve you.” I push the door open and leave, then speed up my footsteps as I note the time on my wrist watch again. This little interruption has cost me precious moments I didn’t have.

  “Hey, wait up.”

  Ugh. No. Callum’s following me. I start to run.

  I hear him chortle, then break out into a run. Soon he’s jogging beside me. “Where are we running to?”

  “I’m late.”

  “Are we running all the way?”

  We’re still jogging, and he’s not out of breath, he’s managing to keep up with me. This is ridiculous. I stop, and it takes him a few strides before he realizes he’s running alone. “Don’t you have a class to get to?” he asks, circling back towards me.

  “What. Are. You. Doing?” What? I don’t have time to deal with this, I shouldn’t be dealing with this, and yet he has given me no option but to stop in the middle of the street on the way to my already-late-class.

  “I’m going to night school with you.”

  “Why?” I almost yell at him.

  “Because … it’s something I haven’t been to before.”

  That does it for me. Who does he think he is? “Why? Look, I don’t like you. I’m not interested in you. I don’t wish to spend any time with you.”

  He walks over to me, and now he’s a little breathless as he stands in front of me, with his hands on his hips, breathing in and out a little heavily.

  Then he says something that grabs all of my attention. “I was just checking up on you.”

  “Checking up on me for what?” Irritation gnaws at me. I don’t have time to waste, yet here he is, Mr. Hotshot, taking up every precious minute of my time.

  “You looked a little upset when you came to drop my lunch off earlier.”

  “If I was upset, it’s because you have that effect on me.”

  His signature grin breaks out. “At least I have some effect on you.”

  I squeeze my eyes shut for a second, and when I open them again, he’s still there. I rush off. I hear him whistle, and when I turn around, he’s hailed down a taxi. “Get in.” He waves me over.

  I hate that he is so persistent. I hate that he thinks he can do what he wants.

  But he’s hailed a taxi, and I could be at my class within ten minutes.

  I hop in, because, really, what choice has he given me?

  Chapter Sixteen

  CALLUM

  * * *

  She jumps out of the cab and rushes off.

  I wait for her.

  Like a doormat, I wait for her in the cold. Pacing around outside the school building before realizing that I can wait inside. The security guard at the front desk strikes up a conversation as soon as I take off my beanie hat. We end up taking selfies and he gets me so sign some autographs for his daughters.

  Then I walk around the corridors waiting for Elias Cardoza’s sister to notice me. This is insane, I realize that, and I can’t imagine what Rudy or Dottie would make of it, but it’s a tiny challenge for me. Something to do instead of sitting around in my hotel suite.

  Nina wasn’t expecting me to do this, accompany her to night school, and to be honest, I wasn’t expecting to go with her.

  We finished shooting early today, so I took a chance in going to the diner. It beats going back to an empty hotel suite. Except tonight it wouldn’t have been like t
hat. The guys would have gone on to a club, or a party and I’d have gone along. I only went to Frankie’s to get a milkshake and because I was curious. I could tell that something was up earlier when Nina delivered my lunch. I’m hoping to get into her good books with the idea that she might consider me a good enough friend to introduce me to her brother. The biography I’m still reading talks about how close the two of them are. That’s what I’m banking on.

  Also, she’s cute in the way she doesn’t invite my interest. I am so used to getting attention, to having women fawning over me that I can’t understand what’s wrong with this woman. Still, it’s access to Elias that I need, and why not chase a bit of skirt in the process? I’m not looking to sleep with her or date her, yet while she’s not attracted to me, there is something about her that intrigues me. Something about her that isn’t quite what it seems. She’s like a cryptic puzzle. I just have to look deeper to solve it.

  She comes out of the classroom and looks surprised to see me again. “You’re still here?”

  “I’m not looking to go on a date with you or anything, okay. Let’s just get that out of the way.”

  “You’re not?” Her exaggerated disappointment is laid on extra thick.

  We walk along the hallway. Even though I’ve put my beanie hat back on, I can sense people around us whispering and looking at us. I have a feeling they’ve seen through my disguise. I try to ignore them. “Two people can be friends. It doesn’t have to be anything more than that.”

  “What makes you think I want to be friends with you?” she asks.

  I lift my eyebrow and smile at her, not because I want her to swoon over me, but because I know it will annoy her. “Because we’re bound together. You saved my life, and I saved you right back.”

  She groans loudly. “If I could get that night back, I’d do things so differently. I would have walked right past the alleyway.”

  “But you didn’t, and I don’t believe you would. Normal people would, but not you.” I smile as I say it, but she doesn’t find it amusing.

  “Why do you keep showing up where I am? Are you that lonely that you don’t have any friends?”

  “I’m on the set for most of the day. Dottie and the film crew are the people I see all day long. You are something different.”

  “You are lonely.”

  “We met in highly unusual circumstances. You’re not easy to impress—not that I’ve tried,” I add quickly. “You’re not like other women. Being an actor, I’m surrounded by people who think I’m this amazing guy. They want to get close to me. They think they know me.”

  She frowns in disgust. “It must be an occupational hazard?”

  “It is.”

  “It’s a wonder your head can fit through the door,” she says, as we go through a pair of double doors.

  “You might be joking, but people’s brains sometimes turn to mush when they meet me. And when they realize they’ve seen me in a film, they treat me like I’m some God-level deity.

  She smirks. “Luckily, I don’t suffer from the same delusions.”

  “And that’s why I like you, in a non-girlfriend kind of way.”

  She opens her mouth to say something, then pauses. “You’re very annoying.”

  “Be nice, and I’ll play nice back.”

  “I don’t want to play.”

  That’s a line I’ve never heard from a woman I’ve invested time in.

  “I’m going home,” she says, adjusting the straps of her bag. “Are you going to follow me home?”

  “It depends, are you going to invite me in for coffee?”

  She doesn’t answer that question.

  “What is it that you’re studying?” I ask her as we leave the building and walk down the street. A couple walking past do a double take, which I notice, but ignore.

  “Interior Design.”

  “Interior Design? That’s interesting. You’re looking to change jobs?”

  But she seems busy watching people’s reactions as we continue to walk. It’s like a whispering campaign suddenly started, and now everyone around us knows that it’s me.

  Suddenly, two girls come up to me and ask for my autograph. They’re shy, and hesitant at first, but they’re blocking our passage, and they want what they want. “You’re Callum Sandersby?” says one.

  “So cool!” shrieks her friend. “Could we have your autograph?”

  This is one part of my career that I’m beginning to hate. I don’t mind doing this when I’m out promoting my films, but not when it’s a private moment, with friends. Like now. I hate that people think they can interrupt all the time and I’ll be okay with it.

  I take the notebook one of them shoves in my face, and scribble away. Her friend whips out her cellphone and asks if we can get a selfie. I don’t have a chance to say anything when she takes a few shots.

  By now, a small crowd has gathered around us. I’ve done it again, gone out and attracted attention.

  But tonight, I have no intention of ending up in an alleyway.

  I see a cab, then then hail it down.

  “Jump in,” I tell Nina. “Now!” I yell, when she appears to hesitate. She jumps in, and I do too, but she doesn’t like this one bit. Most women would die to be in the back of a cab with me, but not this one. Nina looks like she’d rather be roasting in hell than in here with me.

  “Where do you live?”

  She mumbles an address. We don’t even live in the same direction. It makes sense for me to get off first, but that would give me less time with this woman, so I tell the driver to go to where Nina is first.

  “Fans,” I say, with contempt, trying to break the ice and make conversation. It seemed easier when we were outside. Here in the closed confines of the taxi, she seems to have withdrawn into her shell again.

  I seriously have no idea why my charm and my good looks, and my status are having exactly zero effect on this woman. She’s looking out of the window, her head turned away. I catch the taxi driver looking at me in the rear view mirror. I can’t tell if he knows who I am yet. Maybe he can’t figure it out yet, after all, this isn’t LA, and I shouldn’t feel too down about it.

  I shift my body so that I can angle my body and see her properly. “You’ve had a really long day,” I say, hoping to have a simple conversation. “You worked all day at the diner, delivered my lunch, and now you’ve just been to night school.”

  “Why did you want lunch delivered?”

  I blink. That came out of nowhere. “I told you. I like Frankie’s milkshake and wraps.”

  She fixes me with a stare, that even under the dim light in the taxi, I can feel the intensity of. She doesn’t believe me, that much is obvious. She also isn’t easy to win over. “I don’t understand why you hate me so much when we barely know one another.”

  Her brows push together, as if she’s trying to find a diplomatic way of giving me an answer. “I don’t hate you. I just don’t understand why I’m seeing so much of you.”

  “Because we’re destined to be together?”

  “Did you pick up those tacky lines from your scripts?”

  That’s a hell of a put down. “I might have. You should see some of the things I’ve had to say.”

  “You’ve mistaken me for a celebrity watcher. People like you don’t interest me.”

  Our conversation is like barbed wire, hard, and prickly, but at least we’re talking. “None of my lines have any effect on you,” I comment. “And your armor’s bullet proof.” I’m curious to know why. I don’t have an extraordinarily large ego—not compared to some of the people I’ve met in this industry—but this woman is completely unaffected by my charm. By me. I don’t want to be rude and ask if she bats for the other side, but maybe she’s bi? Yet I don’t think it’s that either. I can tell these things, and I’m not getting that vibe from her. “You think I’m wasting my time getting to know you?”

  She does one of those exaggerated eye blinks, as if she’s indicating extreme surprise at my question. “
Is that what this is?”

  I shrug. “You can’t knock me for trying.”

  “That stuff doesn’t work on me”

  She’s hard work. I’ve reined in my charm, and I’m not flirting with her, much. I only want to figure out why she dislikes me so much. “Is there really no chance of you ever being nice to me?”

  She groans. “Don’t you ever let up?”

  I level with her. “Talking to you is a nicer way to spend the evening than going back to an empty hotel room.”

  For the first time this evening, the corners of her lips turn upwards. The ice maiden might be starting to melt. It also makes a difference that we’re not sitting at a club, or at an after party. Talking to her reminds me of the down-to-earth conversations I used to have with women before I became famous.

  I miss those days.

  I miss people being honest, and liking you for who you are, instead of your fame. I don’t want to let this opportunity pass. “How about a drink tomorrow night?”

  “No.” She tuts, and then turns and looks out of her window. Her reply is so final, the tone behind her words so strong, that I am temporarily wounded. It’s a surface level wound only, but it’s there. “Why not? You’re not seeing anyone.”

  Her head spins around so fast I’m scared she might have given herself whiplash. “How would you know?” I wasn’t sure, it was just a hunch based on what I’ve heard about her, but she’s confirmed it now.

  “It was a guess.”

  Nina’s eyes narrow. I feel sure that if she had anything on her, like a bow and arrow, she’d hold it up and take aim at me.

  “Is it women?” I ask, trying to figure her out. “Is that what you’re into?”

  The look she gives me, freezes me in place. “It must fracture your wafer thin self-esteem, to meet someone who doesn’t fall at your feet. This is the only reason you have for it?”

  Now we’re getting somewhere. “Wafer thin.” I scratch my head. “One thing you should know, there’s nothing wafer thin about me.” I raise an eyebrow, in jest.