The Lost Girl (11 page)

The important thing, though, was what I saw when I looked into Beanie Boy’s eyes. He was playing me. I could see how much he was enjoying this, and thinking he was winning me over. I was no more than an entertaining and amusing target to chase.

That was quite enough of a read for me.
Only wants to be friends, my ass!

“You know this nicknaming quirk you say you have?” I asked, taking a step back and away from him. “I have a quirk too, you know. It’s
my
‘thing’. I always know when people are lying to me.”

Before he could reply, another guy popped his head round the end of the corridor and shouted, “Hey, man! There you are. I’ve been looking all over for you. What the hell do you think you’re doing? We gotta go.”

I took the opportunity to quietly slip away round a corner, disappearing out of sight.

I walked as fast I could, until I finally bumped into the event coordinator. He was freaking out at me, grabbing my hand and pulling me through the hallways like they were on fire. One minute we were walking through corridors, the next I was being pushed into an antechamber at the side
of the stage, a trophy being shoved in my hands, and all the while he was shouting instructions at me at the rate of machine-gun fire. He stopped and looked at me expectantly, as if waiting for a reply to a question I hadn’t even heard him ask.

“So, did you get everything I just said?” he asked.

“Yeah, sure,” I lied. I hadn’t got anything.
At all.

“Fabulous! So, go present the award now and call for Cale, okay?” he instructed me one last time.

“Okay. Wait. So, this is the award fooor …” I rambled, trying to fish for the name of the damned title I was suppose to introduce.

He stared at me, looking baffled, and then rolled his eyes. “Here,” he said, pointing to the engraved inscription on the trophy and reading it aloud, very slowly. “Outstanding. Artist. Award. Hand it over to Caleb Jones, will ya?” he said, clearly exasperated.

“Caleb Jones?”
I gasped. I didn’t know this award was for Caleb frigging Jones! He was the lead singer of The Accidentals. That band was incredible! And he was the most outstanding musician ever – oh, I got the award title now – but, but, seriously, he was amazing. A genuine prodigy; a genius musician. He’d probably played instruments since he was, what? One year old? He was probably composing songs in the womb, that was how outstanding he was. And his music? Just incredible.

And I was going to meet him. And give him an award! But I didn’t have time to freak out or even have my fan-girl moment because my name was called on the speakers and then I was being shooed on to the stage. I hadn’t had the chance to process what was happening.

I clutched the trophy and stumbled forward, while the
show host finished up introducing me: “… and please welcome to the stage, my favorite, and – let’s be honest, folks – the prettiest of The Lost Boys. Joe Gray!”

I was greeted with a wave of applause as I walked slowly to the center of the stage. Inside, I was repeating to myself, “Please, God, don’t let me trip over.” The spotlights were blinding and stung my eyes. I stopped in front of the microphone and smiled back at the host, who had stepped a few feet behind me.

I took a deep breath and leaned close to the mic.

“So, it is time for me to present the next award.” I cleared my suddenly incredibly dry throat. “It is a great honor for me to be here, delivering this special award for the Outstanding Artist of the Year. And the winner is … Mr. Caleb Jones! So, Mr. Jones, this is for you. Come and get your award.”

I held out the trophy towards the audience and then turned to look at my side, where Caleb Jones was already walking across the stage. Everybody in the whole auditorium was clapping and cheering hard for him. My eyes widened as I watched him approach where I standing – stock still.

Caleb Jones, leader of The Accidentals rock band. Caleb, award winner, Grammy collector, living legend and, in my opinion, the most talented and ingenious musician of his time. Always number one on the radio; endlessly on the “hot list”. Woman seducer extraordinaire and internationally renowned rock star.

Caleb Jones, also known – to me – as Beanie Boy.

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.

We didn’t stay long at the afterparty.

Harry was beyond upset by the time we got 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.