Fearless (The Story of Samantha Smith #1) (40 page)

Worried. Good news. Ugh. If they only knew how bad things got after Damian. If they only knew how I’d lied in their faces every single day the same way I’d lied to everyone at school, and even myself. They had no idea how miserable I was back then. They had no idea what happened to…

Taylor.

Nobody knew. Not even Christos.

I was close to sobbing. I held it back “Mom, Dad, I have to get ready to go to Madison’s.”

“Okay, Sam,” my mom said.

"We’ll see you at Christmas,” Dad said.

“But call us before then, okay?” Mom suggested.

“Okay.”

“Bye!” they said.

“Bye.”

I ended the call and hugged one of my couch pillows tightly, burying my face as I shook with muted sobs.

Taylor.

I drove up to Huntington beach after I calmed down, showered, and dressed.

The drive took ninety minutes and there was little traffic. The nearly empty road was nothing compared to the traffic jam between campus and my apartment the night before. It seemed like everyone was leaving San Diego for Thanksgiving weekend on Wednesday evening.

The Lockhart house was a modest three-bedroom stucco home only blocks from the beach. It was warm and charming.

Madison ran outside as I walked up the driveway. She actually wore something other than beach attire for once: a V-neck sweater and slacks. Her hair was down for I think the first time ever, and she wore makeup. She was beautiful.

“Look at you, Mads. All dolled up!”

“Sam!” She threw her arms around me. “So glad you could make it!”

Jake walked up behind her. “Hey, Sam. What up?” When Mads and I finished hugging, she wrapped a loving arm around Jake. They looked so happy together.

“Come inside,” Madison said. “I want you to meet my family.”

Madison’s parents looked like well-groomed beach bums. I liked them immediately. Her dad was making margaritas while her mom oversaw the turkey, the stuffing, and the other All-American Thanksgiving dishes.

After Madison introduced me to her parents Wayne and Barbara, her dad handed me a freshly poured margarita. “Taste this, Sam. Does it need more tequila?”

I goggled at Madison. My parents never would’ve handed me alcohol while I was still under age.

Madison nodded, giving me the okay.

I sipped carefully. “It’s good!” I didn’t know what else to say.

Madison dragged me by the arm to her sister’s room, which was covered with boy-band posters and too many pink things.

“This is my sister Piper. She has no life beyond texting.”

Piper laid on her bed, knees up, ferociously texting away on her phone. “I heard that,” she said while texting.

“Say something to Sam, Piper.”

“Hey, Sam,” Piper said, still flicking buttons.

“She’ll emerge when she smells my mom’s banana bread,” Madison said.

“Heard that!” Piper said.

It turned out that Piper was not as addicted to texting as Madison suggested, but she didn’t come out of her room until the banana bread came out of the oven.

Piper was funny and cute and so fifteen. She reminded me of me, before I got involved with Damian. Innocent, carefree, happy. I hoped she stayed like that for a long time.

The six of us sat down to early dinner together. It was a blast.
 

Madison’s family were so much fun. They all cracked jokes and had endless humorous stories about family vacations, sporting events that Madison or Piper participated in, and boating trips to The River (wherever that was).

Madison’s family had their own language of love and connectedness that was completely alien to me. I envied Madison in a way I could never communicate to her. She had what probably every girl in America wanted. A normal, loving family upbringing. She was so lucky. I hoped she realized it.

When dessert came out, Madison stopped everyone to make an announcement. She stood up in her seat, her hand resting on Jake’s shoulder. “I just wanted to take a moment to give thanks, because that’s what we’re supposed to do today, right?”

Everyone nodded.

“I want to thank my parents, because they’re totally awesome, for everything they’ve given me. You’re the best. I love you guys.” She grinned at them.

Barbara Lockhart teared up instantly and nodded. “Thank you, Madison. I love you, honey.”

“That’s my girl,” Wayne said proudly. I could tell he barely held back a tear of his own.

“And thank you, Piper,” Madison said. “Even though you’re annoying sometimes, and I wish mom and dad would take away your phone. I still love you, and couldn’t imagine a better sister.”

Piper rolled her eyes bashfully.

“And thank you, Jake, for being the best boyfriend ever. I love you.” She leaned down and pecked his cheek, then hugged his neck.

Jake blushed through his tan. He turned to Wayne. “Is it okay if I kiss your daughter, in your house, I mean?” Jake asked sheepishly.

“Go for it, son,” Wayne said. “But keep the tongue to a minimum.”

Everybody cracked up. Jake stood and kissed Madison deeply.

“Gross! Too much tongue,” Piper joked.

What about me? I suddenly felt left out. Like always.

In the past, whenever I’d shared Thanksgiving dinner with my parents, I’d somehow felt left out, like something was missing, even though the family was together. But I never knew
what
was missing. Until now. Because I was seeing it firsthand in the Lockhart abode. They had this emotional bond, this heartfelt connection that my parents knew nothing about. I privately envied Madison for having the family I never would.

I sipped my margarita. I wanted to down it and ask for three more, but I had to drive to Christos’ soon.

“And last but not least, I want to thank you, Sam, for being my new BFF.” Madison held up her margarita to toast. “Let’s raise a glass, everybody, to Samantha Smith. The bravest girl I know.”

Everyone at the table picked up their glasses. I shyly raised mine.

“Sam came all the way out to California from Washington D.C. to make her way in life.” Madison smiled warmly and looked me directly in the eyes. “Samantha, I can’t tell you how much better you make my experience at SDU. I miss my parents and my sis every day I’m away from them, but you give me a home in San Diego. I don’t think I could do it without you, girlfriend.” She toasted the table. “To Sam!”

“To Sam!” everyone echoed.

I was going to cry. Screw it. I let my tears flow and raised my glass. “Thanks, guys.”

Madison walked around the table to where I sat next to Piper and gave me a huge hug. “I love you, Sam. You are
so
the bestest BFF ever.”

I sniffled back tears and returned Madison’s hug. “I love you too, Mads.”

That turned out better than I expected.

Silly me.

When I left Madison’s house around five o’clock, I thanked everyone profusely. I texted Christos that I was leaving, but I never heard back from him. He was probably busy.

I was at Christos’ by six-thirty.

The driveway at Spiridon’s house, which was normally empty, was crammed with cars. I had to find parking on the street. I sort of felt second-class after the royal treatment I’d received at Madison’s.

Oh well, Christos did warn me that it was going to be crowded.

I walked into the house because the front door was unlocked. There were people everywhere. The crowd was all ages: babies, toddlers, teenagers, parents, grandparents. I wandered through the house looking for Christos or Spiridon. I found Spiridon in the kitchen, overseeing food. He had a catering team helping him out. The caterers wore black and white, and hustled like crazy.

“Sam!” Spiridon said when he saw me. “Grab a drink, grab some food! We’ve got plenty.”

“Do you know where Christos is?”

“I think he’s on the deck.”

Spiridon was so busy, I left him alone. “Thanks, I’ll find him.”

I walked outside to the backyard, which was just as crowded as the inside. After I’d circulated through the throng, I still hadn’t found Christos. Frustrated, I went inside and grabbed a glass of wine. I downed it in four swallows. I grabbed another glass and tipped it back.

“Hey, Samantha! There you are!” Christos had a platter of hors d’oeuvres in one hand. He hugged me to his side with one arm and pecked me on the lips. “Sorry, this place is a madhouse. The caterers couldn’t keep up, so I’m helping out. Do I make a good waiter?” He seemed distracted.
 

“Yes, you look good,” I smiled. “As always.”

His energy changed and his smiled widened. “I missed you all day,
agápi mou
.” He leaned toward me and kissed me slowly and deeply. There was only the hint of tongue, but it felt so welcoming.

I sighed. I felt better already, and it wasn’t the wine.

“I’ve got to keep moving. People are about to go cannibal if I don’t get them food. Dinner hasn’t even been served yet. I hope you’re hungry!”

“Yeah. Okay, go do your thing.”

“Are you going to be okay by yourself?”

“Yeah,” I smiled. “Now go, feed the barbarians!”

“I love you, Samantha.” He spun and the crowd swallowed him up.

For the next two hours, I saw only glances of Christos. He always tipped me a wink, or blew me a kiss. But I don’t think we exchanged more than a dozen words.

I made idle conversation with several people, but everyone always seemed to drift away to other conversations, or to get food and drink. I saw a number of faces I recognized from Christos’ gallery show. I even saw Mrs. Moorhouse, the matron who had asked about Spiridon and Nikolos, but I didn’t talk to her.

 
I was basically in it alone.

Wandering from room to room, I finally saw most of the house for the first time, except for the upstairs, which was closed off. I think that’s where Christos and Spiridon’s bedrooms were.

I was strolling down a hallway after using the bathroom when I bumped into the first familiar face in an hour.

Brandon Charboneau was studying a painting hanging on the wall, probably one of Spiridon’s, by the look of it. “Hey, you,” he said warmly when he saw me, flashing his hazel eyes with impeccable charm.

“Oh, hey Brandon. How are you?”

“I’m good. Enjoying the evening?”

“It’s wonderful,” I exaggerated.

He leaned against the wall and swirled his wine. “What have you been up to, since the gallery show? I haven’t seen you since then, have I?”

“Uh, no. I’ve been busy with school. And, other things.” Why didn’t I tell him about Christos and me? Maybe because I’d had more wine than I could remember? That was my defense, and I was sticking to it.

“Did you ever do a portrait sitting for Christos?”

“No, I totally forgot to mention it.” Like I was going to go into the reasons why I hadn’t asked Christos to paint me nude.

“You really should. He is fully capable of doing justice to your exquisite beauty on canvas. I doubt any other living artist would be up to the task.”

I blushed. “Thanks, Brandon. I just don’t think it’s my thing.”

“That’s too bad. It would be a magnificent painting. Botticelli had his Venus. Da Vinci had his Mona Lisa. Vermeer had his Girl with a Pearl Earring. I would paint you myself, but I’m not an artist. So, if I had to chose someone to immortalize your timeless beauty, I would chose Christos. You should give it serious consideration, Samantha.”

To say I wasn’t flattered would be a lie. He was comparing me to three of the most famous women ever painted. What girl didn’t want to be the muse of a famous artist, revered by millions of people for hundreds of years? It was only somewhat magical to think about. Somewhat.

His hazel eyes seemed to flare like falling stars that slipped past my defenses and pierced into me.

Snake Charmer! Kamiko had been right all along. I blinked and shook my head, trying to force back my buzz and reclaim cold sobriety.

Brandon leaned toward me. How had he gotten so close? He must also have vampire abilities, including hypnotism and teleportation.

I backed up a step, but with the wall behind me, there was nowhere to go.

Brandon lowered his face toward mine.

“Samantha, there you are!’ Christos said. “What are you guys doing back here?”

“Hey, Christos,” I said.
Phew, that was close.
I wished I hadn’t drunk so much wine.

“Hey,” Brandon said casually. “I was just telling Samantha that you need to paint her portrait for your next show. I can’t think of a better artist, with enough talent to capture her beauty, than you.”

Christos’ eyes danced between us suspiciously, analyzing the situation.
 

Then he pinned his eyes on me. I expected to see anger poking out around the edges of his customary easy-going smile. I did not. I saw a conspiratorial shimmer. Like we were on the same team.
Phew,
again.
 

“I don’t know, Brandon. I think Samantha may be too beautiful for even me to paint. I wouldn’t want to screw up perfection.”

“I’m sure you could pull it off,” Brandon said dryly.

“Maybe you’re right,” Christos said in his traditional cocky style. “Maybe I am the only one who can capture beautiful Samantha.”

I smiled at him, enjoying our private joke.

“Tiffany’s here,” Christos said to Brandon without breaking our gaze. “You should say hello to her.”

“That I should. I wouldn’t want Her Highness to feel neglected.”

“Nope.” Christos still held my gaze, never looking at Brandon. “Don’t forget to freshen your drink. The bar’s still open.”

“Okay.” Brandon took the hint. “Samantha, it was a pleasure seeing you again. Christos,” he nodded, then walked off.

“I’m going to have to put a leash on that guy,” Christos joked.

I anticipated, at the very least, a mild lecture from Christos for being alone in a dark hallway with Brandon. If it had been Damian, it would’ve turned DEFCON 1 in two seconds flat. I searched Christos’ eyes. I saw only amusement. So be it. Christos was awesome. I smiled. “I’m sure Tiffany will take care of him for you.”

“You’re right. Leave the dirty work to the queen of dirty deeds.”

“That’s an understatement.”

He cocked his head inquisitively. “Did I miss something?”