Little White Lies (7 page)

She’d done so for far too long. Charley rose, wobbled on heels she’d grown fond of, kept her chin up, eyes on her prize, and mind tuned to the countdown, which would last for an additional eight minutes.

Julie turned Wyatt to face away and offered Charley one long glare as she approached.

Doesn’t she know she can have him?
In less than eight minutes, no less?
With greater determination, Charley marched toward them.

She’d play it Julie’s way.

Rather than a simple, polite tap on the shoulder, Charley ran her fingers up the back of Wyatt’s neck.

His arms dropped from Julie with a thud against his pants, and he spun to Charley, grabbed her and crushed his lips to hers.

With a huff of breath, Julie slunk away, a proverbial tail between her legs.

“I thought you’d never break in.” Wyatt nipped at her lips. “That dance was awful.”

“Here now.” They fit their bodies together once again, the music lulling them into an easy sway.

Charley’s arms found his shoulders. Wyatt’s found her lower back. Yet, they moved only their lips, shifting and adjusting to take each other farther into passion.

“I’ll never forget this,” she said.

“What?”

She hadn’t meant to speak out loud. She crushed her lips against his again. She’d wanted to curtail her thoughts, to secret them away.

“Okay, folks! We have five minutes! Five minutes left. Let’s wind this party down with two favorites. First, a classic.” Barry White’s wholesome and deep voice took over.

“So.” Wyatt pulled her tight. “Stuart and I have a little extra planned for tonight.”

“You—you do?” Charley faked a cough to cover the hitch in her breath.

“Oh, yeah.” He smiled against her lips.

As Barry spun a tale of love that resonated as deep as his voice, Wyatt’s fingers roamed Charley’s sides, teased small strokes that tickled and aroused. As his hands moved up, he extended hers above her head and into the air—a position she’d only ever seen prone. He walked the length of her arm with his fingers as lips and tongue slid from side to side, sending shivers to her toes.

Their hip’s sway matched the melody. She let her arms float down until her fingers tangled in the silk of his hair again. More sensual than sex itself, they moved together.

“Wyatt?” She mouthed against him.

“Hmm?” His lips found new spots to lay their mark. He kissed her cheek and the length of her neck which stretched and arched in instinctive desire.

I can’t do this!
I can’t let him go again!

“Last dance! This is the last dance!” the DJ announced. “Good night, Barry; hello, Ricky!” “Private Emotion” hit the queue.

Ricky Martin’s voice rang through the room as dancers swayed in time with its rhythm.

Charley pulled Wyatt’s face to hers. Tears burned in her eyes, but she held them in check.

As the words to the song echoed, she considered the impossible.
Can I just tell him? What if he understands?
She shook her head at herself, forced herself to stop before he registered the motion.

Their lips ranged across each other’s as they moved to the music.

No, I can’t
. Tears formed in the corners of her eyes. The image of James, Lily and Cael all passed through her mind—the promises she’d made to each of them a distant memory.

The lyrics stole her thoughts. Nearly overcome, she let a tear fall.

“Mira?” He pulled her face away. His hands cupped her cheeks. His thumb traced the path made by the tear.

Charley’s knees wobbled, hands shook. Her vision blurred but not before she caught a glimpse of the black that invaded the ends of her curls.
Oh, god no!

“Wyatt.” Charley whimpered as the shimmer and pain radiated up from her toes.
No! No! No!
Not yet! More time!
“Wyatt!” She clung to him, heard him respond with deep concern, though she no longer registered the words. Her own emotions and pain grew too great. Charley kept her eyes low.

In one swift move, she pulled his face down to hers, kissed him with a ferocity she hoped he would understand. With her hands on his cheeks, his wrapped around her wrists, she flashed her eyes up at him.

He gasped and let go.

Charley grabbed his hands, drew them together, laid a kiss on his knuckles and whispered, “I love you, Wyatt!” before she took off. Running to the exit, she pushed past dancers and ignored Stuart as he called her name.

The shimmer built to a burn. Her motion pressed it further, faster. Tears mixed with sweat and the heat of the change. Still, she ran. Her shoes clicked against tile once she pushed through the doors. The outside air cooled the surface of her skin. Underneath, she raged with anger at herself, and with fear and worry for Wyatt.

Her broken heart bore the worst of the pain.

She’d shocked him then disappeared, left him with no explanations and no warning.

Charley made it to the parking circle, her eyes glazed from the shift and tears.

James met her, guiding the way to the car where Lily sat.

“Oh, god! James! What have I done?”

“Nothing. You’ve done nothing but fall in love.” His hand stroked the back of hers.

As he tucked her into the front seat, Wyatt yelled into the night the name Charley would never hear again.

“Mira!”

7

“What the hell?” Wyatt said as Stuart slid to a stop next to him.

The sedan Mira hopped into zoomed out of range, its red lights fading in the distance. Wyatt punched his palm with his fist.

“She in that car?” Stuart dropped his hands to his knees.

“Everything okay out here?” Mr. Miter said from a crack in the door.

Had no one but him and Stuart noticed his girlfriend run like a banshee through a crowded room?
What they said about witnesses must be true: they miss the obvious
. “Yeah.”

The doors closed again.

Wyatt turned to Stuart. “She was. In that car, I mean.”

“How’d she get out here so fast?”

Wyatt had chased Mira as she flew through the dance hall, hadn’t known she would be so quick. He’d caught a speck of color as she pushed out into the patio where they’d almost fulfilled his ultimate fantasy.

“What happened, man?” Stuart asked.

Wyatt ran a hand through his hair. “I have no idea.”

He’d been happily entwined in her arms, fingers, lips, cheeks—touching and arousing. He’d found a tear on his thumb and worried he’d hurt her in some way—the dance with Julie burning in his gut.

One day.
He only had one day left with her, and he’d spent more than a second with someone else.

Stuart slunk to the side. “What do we do?”

Wyatt paced back and forth along the patio, yanking at his hair. The glint of light off the slate brought to mind her eyes. The light had played a trick on them right before she’d called out a quick ‘I love you’ and bolted.

Stuart leaned against the building’s brick. “Wyatt, man. What’cha gonna do?”

He slapped his hands against his thighs. “I’m going to find her.”

“I’ll go with ya.”

“You don’t have to.” Wyatt grabbed his keys from his pants pocket. They jiggled in his hand as he searched for the right one.

“You’re my ride, dude.” Stuart huffed a laughed. “I gotta. Uh … what about Leena?”

“She’s with them.” As Wyatt’s car came into view, Stuart took a right. With two beeps, they opened the doors and slid into their seats. Before he could close his door, the call of his name took his attention.

Julie stood on the red carpet.

“Not now, Julz.” Wyatt gripped the wheel, turned to Stuart. “Ready?”

“I’m with you, man.”

Julie stood at the end of the path, turning her head as Wyatt backed out of the spot.

Where did she go?

“Home?” Stuart said out loud.

“Can you read minds, man?” Wyatt turned a one-eighty to put wheels on the road.

“Nah, just figured, if something were wrong with me, that’s where I’d go.”

“Why’d she call them?” Wyatt pushed the car to sixty-five on roads meant for half.

“Dunno, man.”

What have I done?
Tires squealed as Wyatt sped up Turner Point. The headlights did little to light his way beyond the curve. Stuart’s knuckles turned white as he held on to the door. Wyatt’s breath grew ragged.

Left then right, right then left—no care for the possibility of a car in the other direction—he sped.

The house loomed with a few lights.

Wyatt jumped from the car, which shook as Stuart yanked the parking brake in place. Smooth-soled shoes slipped against the concrete before Wyatt ran to the front door.

He rang the bell, pounded his fist. “Mira! Mira, it’s Wyatt!”

Stuart caught up to him as the door opened.

“What happened? Why did she leave? Where is she?” Wyatt tried to walk around Jack, who held his position in the frame, arms folded across his chest.

“She can’t see you right now.”

“Why?” Wyatt’s words burst forth. “Why not?” Fury coated his words.

“She just can’t.” Jack’s voice held an unemotional calm. “And she’ll be gone tomorrow. I’m sorry, man.”

“That’s shit!” Wyatt stormed away and back. “I want to see her now!” Fists at his sides, Wyatt raised himself to his full height and still didn’t reach Jack’s nose.

He didn’t budge, but behind him, Leena peeked out.

“Leena … where is she?” His resolve lost in the face of a friend, he softened and moved toward her.

She snuck out from underneath Jack’s arms—still in her dress, feet bare. A walk to Wyatt, a hug and squeeze undid him. “I’m going with her tomorrow.” Leena pulled back, addressing both of them. “Like me, she just didn’t know how to say goodbye.” She dropped her eyes. “Sometimes …” She nodded and leaned in. “Sometimes things are just best left unsaid.” A red-painted toe dug at the tile.

“But she told me she loved me.” Wyatt’s arms fell as desperation took hold.

“And that makes it all the harder.” Leena drew one hand to his cheek. “She always will, too.” She placed a soft kiss where her hand had lain.

“But I love her!” Wyatt’s anger fired rocket-like as he punched the air. “And I have this.” He pulled a small box from within his coat, held it out to Leena. “Will you—”

“Keep it, Wyatt.” Leena pulled herself up to his shoulders. “And listen to me very carefully, okay?”

He nodded, shocked at her abrupt change in temperament, her eyes seething hurt and fury.

“Now is not the time.” She poked him in the chest with her index finger. “You will never see Mira again. But do not—and I repeat this—do not give this to anyone else. Ever.” She dropped her head. “Unless you are more than a hundred percent sure she is the right one. Got that?” her glare added to the pain her finger offered while she dug into his chest.

He nodded.
How would I know?
It didn’t matter. He’d toss the box in a drawer and forget about it. Wyatt nodded at her with more conviction than ran through him.

Leena pursed her lips. “Good then. Take care, Wyatt.” She squeezed his shoulders and walked to Stuart, offering him a simple hug before she slipped in behind Jack and left them in silence.

Wyatt considered a gang attack, but he didn’t think he and Stuart would fare well against the monster at the door. He dropped his head, turned on his heel and started his walk back to the car.

He kicked small pebbles that ground into his shoes. They rattled against his car when they hit. He didn’t care. The dents would help ease the pain in his chest.

“Fuck.” Wyatt slammed his fists into the hood.

• • •

Vest undone, jacket over his arm, Wyatt trudged into his house. One o’clock in the morning would roll through in seconds. He entered to silence and the smell of bread baked not long before.

“Wyatt?” His mom asked from the top of the stairs. “That you?”

“Yeah, Mom.”

“No Stuart?”

“Nah.”

“Someone dropped something off for you, honey. It’s in the kitchen.”

“Thanks, Mom. I’ll get it tomorrow.”

“They asked me to tell you to open it tonight. That’s why I stayed up. I’m going on to bed now, okay?”

“Yeah, Mom.”

In the dark, he followed the well-worn path from foyer to kitchen. The walk took far less time than in Mira’s house. On the island where he’d had pancakes and waffles, lunch and dinner, and had completed and forgotten his homework, lay a package wrapped in brown paper. Light from the moon—the same one he’d wanted to stand under as he gave her his second gift—streamed through the bay window, bouncing shadow and light against reflective surfaces.

That’s what the light had done to her eyes, he thought.
Those damn balls! I shouldn’t have let go!
With his Mom upstairs, Wyatt couldn’t let loose. The scream he held in burned the back of his throat.

He crossed to the countertop, eased the package to its side.

To: Wyatt
, written in her script.

So it was dropped off and not shipped
.
Consolation prize?
He’d dump it in the trash
. But I’ll look first.

Wyatt pulled pieces of tape off one at a time and stuck them back onto the paper. As the back revealed itself, he found a card attached.

Happy Birthday
, without signature. The handwriting he recognized well.

He ripped the rest of the paper in one violent strip and turned what he knew would be art in his direction. Silhouettes of two bodies twisted around each other like a strand of DNA. Obscure, no distinct features were visible, just the idea of form.

He knew.

One body laid back, the other pressed forward, arms of whispery white connected the two.

He and Mira had been in that position hours before.

Wyatt’s heart pounded; his chest constricted. His eye caught a spot of white, lighter than the rest against the black of the canvas.

Tucked into the lower corner, it read:
For Wyatt. Love, Charley.

8

Sixteen years later

The communicator crackled in Charley’s ear as she walked through the hallway she’d avoided with each previous invitation. Cement blocks painted a simple off-white, spotted tiled floors, metal doors and fluorescent lights adorned the school. They no longer held the romance she’d experienced so long ago.

Charley sped up at the footsteps behind her but froze—her hand at her ear. She closed her eyes, concentrating on a voice only she could hear, and balanced a brown cardboard box in one hand. “You want me to do what, James? Are you fucking crazy?”

Four pairs of innocent eyes stared up at her.

Dammit! Yet another reason Lily should have done this.
Charley mouthed ‘I’m sorry’ to the group of kids who loitered in the hall and quick-stepped away.

Why did I not see them?
She shook her head.
It’s an elementary school, for god’s sake.

Too preoccupied with James’s request, she’d walked without thought, and he’d caught her off guard. If it hadn’t been for Chase, dropped at their doorstep eight years before, she’d never have agreed to play delivery girl.

An alarm blasted as she reached for the door.
Those bells are louder than I remember.

Her earpiece rattled as hundreds of children streamed through doors, scrambling one over the other with laughter and cheer. The echoes brought intense memories and sliced through her heart.

The moment passed when she spotted her target no more than ten feet from where she stood. “Chase.”

One well-spoken word, called over the rush of feet, stopped him.

His tomato red shirt and curly, strawberry hair stood out among the rest. His shoulders drooped as he ambled his way over.

Charley held the container out to him. “Take it.”

He reached with two skinny arms for a box no bigger than his hands. His baby blues looked up at her as one last, ‘I’m sorry,’ passed through his lips. His head tilted from side to side as he kicked specks of dirt on the tile.

Charley rolled her eyes as her earpiece vibrated with suggestions and alternatives she wouldn’t consider—again. “Will you please shut up for a minute?”

“Is that James?” Chase rose on his toes. “Hey, James!” Chase would know his only hope lay with his big brother.

“He’s not going to help you, Chasey. Your chances are up. Pass that mouse to the next in line.” She pointed to the box as she spoke, ignoring her earpiece.

Chase’s head dipped down. “But—”

“And Chase?” She waited for him to return the glance.

His gaze met hers through long lashes, anticipation and possibility alighting his eyes. “Yeah?”

So beautiful
.
Still so young and innocent
. If she didn’t press, she’d give in—like the rest of them did, every time. Like she did, too, except for once, and not for Chase, but Wyatt. Her heart ached even after so long.

This is why I don’t go into schools.
She took a deep breath. Steadied herself. “No sneaking him back home. I’ll know.” She tapped her temple. “Hey …” Her voice softened at his frown. “You’ll be hanging with Sophie for a little while. The crew will be gone for a couple days.”

Sophie—an addition Charley welcomed not long after Chase’s arrival. She’d become his nanny, or super-nanny in Charley’s mind, and keeper of all Charley’s secrets.

“Cool! Where ya goin’?” Chase’s infectious smile and his fascination with her job made it that much harder to walk away each time—and for James, Lily and Cael to go with her.

She ruffled his hair. “Can’t tell ya this time.”
Perhaps one day, he’ll be a part of it
.

His lips squished into a clear
ewww
as he backed away in one swift move.

“But we’ll come back with stories … and presents.” She added a noncommittal shrug.

His face lit up. None of the four of them would come home empty handed.

“Oh!” She checked her watch. “You’ll be late in exactly … fifteen seconds.”

He raced down the hall and slipped through the door as the bell vibrated again. One quick wave back at her forced another memory to take shape: of a boy who raced to class with Charley’s hand in his. Pain erupted in her heart as if it had happened minutes before.

She blew a kiss Chase would not see, returned to James’s voice with an even more firm resolve. “I’m on my way.” She stomped back to the exit, paying little attention to the curious hallway stragglers watching her converse with herself. “No, we won’t talk about this when I arrive because there is nothing to discuss. I just won’t do it.”

• • •

Charley blew through the metal doors, her only barrier to the outside, and launched herself into the afternoon sunshine.

James knew better than to send her off to a school, alone, in the middle of the day with a mouse and to throw a crazy-ass assignment her way. She’d already labeled it a trifecta of terrible. Adding the need to rid herself of memories, yet again, burned more and hadn’t helped improve her mood.

Why did he ask me to do this?

Out in the open, away from the sounds and stimulation of her past, she let her thoughts wander. Clean-shaven, nearly-black hair, crisp green eyes, and soft lips floated through her mind.

Wyatt.

Behind the cover of dark shades, tears pricked the back of her eyes as pictures flooded her mind. There’d never, ever, been a possibility they’d be erased.

He probably still hated her.
It’s been sixteen years, Charley
.
Get a grip!
She tucked her thoughts back into their recesses, instead, turned her attention back to James’s most recent assignment request.

“I’m not going to do it,” she said into the mouthpiece.

He chuckled.

She held in the scream, figuring to let it out in the middle of a school parking lot might give her more attention than she deserved.

“You’re needed, Charley.” Notwithstanding his confidence in her, she would refuse on principle.

She’d trained to be, acted as, or worked as a physician, electrical engineer, molecular biologist, neuroscientist, and attorney, among countless others. She held advanced graduate degrees from Harvard, Duke, Texas A&M, Berkeley and one or two more. The new assignment made no sense.

“Dammit, James! The President himself couldn’t convince me to take this one.” Charley hissed into the sky, relieving a moment of tension. “I choose the assignments. Me. Remember?”

James laughed in her ear, further ruining her attempts at relaxation. The oversized black sedan sent fury through Charley.

Her body shivered despite the warmth under the sun. “You didn’t tell me I’d have company.”

Wheels rolled, gravel crunched. It stopped behind her vehicle, blocking her in.

“Sorry. That’s why you were sent with Pops,” James said.

Such an affectionate name for a completely icky creature
.

Two black suits in dark sunglasses emerged, positioned at each side of the car, their hands clasped at their crotches.

“Seriously? Why do they wear shades when the windows are completely tinted? And, hands at their boy parts?”

“It looks really cool. Great way to meet the ladies.” James’s come-on voice, infused with sultry indifference, incited a small laugh from Charley.

She imagined he wiggled his eyebrows, too. “That’s totally lame, you know?” Meandering, she slowed her pace until she stopped.

“Keep moving, Charley.”

How does he know I stopped?
“James! C’mon!” She stomped a foot on the ground. “This one is not for me. You don’t need a brain!”

“Yes, we do. It’s a short project. Get in, get done. Your body will work very nicely.”

Her thick hair warmed under the sun’s rays. She kept it long out of habit, had left it black since the day she’d given Wyatt up. A redhead when she met James, blonde with Lily, wild when she connected with Cael, and gold in the period she considered her previous life—with Wyatt.

Her breath hitched. Ten feet away, she planted her feet. “I’m not going with you.”

They stayed fixed at the car, waiting in a stance she knew they’d learned early in the academy.

“Sorry, Charley.” Cael cleared his throat with an audible cough. “Your presence has been, well, requested.” His lips, the only part of his body which registered movement, raised in a slight smirk. She didn’t even see the motion of his chest with his intake of breath.

Charley grimaced at Cael in work mode. Of course they’d send him to get her.
That doesn’t mean I have to accept it.

“Go with ’em Charley,” James said. “We’ll meet you there.”

When she’d been sent to Russia, the project had been marked urgent. Her trip to Brazil: life or death. Texas, Africa and China came to her with the same deep need.

One hand on her hip, she tilted her sunglasses down her nose. “By whose definition are we calling this one a necessity?” The government didn’t know when to quit.

“Can’t say,” Cael said.

Charley shook her head, let her hair fall across her face. “Of course you can’t. James couldn’t. No one can tell me who’s calling the shots, yet they want me.” She waved her hands in the air. “Never mind.” She cut herself short and finished the distance to the car.

• • •

Cael held the door wide. As she slipped into the back seat, she clung to the frame. “This doesn’t mean I agree, just that I’ll let you drive me. Then we can waste time fighting about it.”

“Of course.” Cael nodded.

Two door slams later, the engine purred, and the car exited the school’s lot. On the highway, tires rolled to a smooth cadence. Lulled, Charley let herself fall into a memory from so long ago, she with her three friends in the back of a limo—fun the only rule.

Rarely did they have a driver. Cael as a passenger meant whoever called for her held power and authority.

A change of lanes jostled her. “Why does everyone except me know who’s called this meeting?” She peeked with one eye.

Neither man turned around.

“Some things are best left unsaid,” Cael said. “For now, the team is needed. And that means you.”

The team. She, Lily, James and Cael. An unstoppable team. The guys—
the brawn,
as she referred to them—balanced her mind. She often admitted James’s logic matched hers, and Cael’s capability for manipulation reached well beyond her own.

“I thought I was the one who knew everything, though?” Charley spoke without punch. Under normal circumstances, she would have been the one in the know—called for missions, adventures, projects, whatever, thanks in most part to her shape-shifting ability but also for her mind.

Cael remained mute.

She gave up. Deep breath in—out—in—out, and one muscle at a time, she unfurled the tension she’d built up in herself. She folded her arms across her chest, let her hands rest against her body and relaxed.

Alone in her thoughts, she considered the possibilities: someone famous, political, a foreign dignitary, or a family member to any of the same. Her mental list blanked on her, with no particular person standing out. That she did not know did not bode well and ratcheted up her nerves again.

Tree-lined roads flew past as they moved from highway to countryside. If they’d turned left, they’d head downtown. The opposite direction and they’d end up near Turner Point where the girl Wyatt knew as Mira disappeared but never left. A surge of memory-fueled adrenaline rushed through her.

Think happy thoughts, Charley.

She smiled as the images of her town passed through her mind. Suburban to the point of excessive. A railroad stop with a rich history. The trains had run since the nineteenth century and continued, blowing their horns as they passed, adding noise and disrupting traffic. She loved the contrast it held to her work—stressful and fast mixed with heritage and timeliness. Some days Charley hated the departure from small town to large. On others, her excitement got the better of her.

Trees grew more sparse, the buildings more dense as they drove on. She ignored the car as it slowed, but the sharp squeal of metal against metal took her attention. The gate before them began to move. At only a foot every couple seconds, she had time to process her location and gawk at the house to which they’d driven. Charley leaned forward—elbows on the seat in front.

Home. House. Whatever they called it, Charley termed it ‘huge’. The house on Turner Point had been hers for at least half her life. Although small in comparison to the one before her, many thought it grandiose.

The statuesque Queen Anne Victorian held its position with regal elegance. Three stories towered in the center, encircled by a wrought-iron fence. Traditional gables and ornate flourishes accented the exterior—adding to the feel royalty once lived within its walls. Charley could stand outside and marvel for hours if left on her own.

The circular drive brought them to the home’s base in short measure. Behind them, James’s car followed.

“Who’s here?” It had unnerved her for far too long to be deliberately kept out.

What they’d asked her to do—to be—would not be difficult. If it required education, skill or stamina, she’d educate herself or acquire the ability. With Lily’s help, she’d look the part.

The question of why bothered her most.

James and Lily flanked her within seconds.

“You guys made good time.” Charley crossed her arms, stood with her feet shoulder width apart. “But I’m still royally pissed you won’t tell me who’s called us.”

A creak preceded a lazy, enchanted swing of a white-washed panel door.

As its angle widened, the group waited.

From within, a man stepped. Under his weight, the porch groaned.

Charley gasped. Her body swayed.

James caught her before she hit the concrete but not before she understood.

There could be no mistake.

Wyatt.

• • •

“Just give her a second,” Lily said.

“I told you she’d probably pass out.” James’s voice carried to Charley.

“I’m glad you were there,” Cael said.

The ruffling of paper suggested the exchange of dollar bills, but she kept her thoughts to herself.