by Jenny Frame
“Would you like to try?”
Holly looked confused. “You want me to paint? I can’t even draw the easiest pictures.”
Quincy offered her hand more closely. “Try, it’s very relaxing.”
Holly took the soldier and their hands touched. Quincy looked at their hands and then at Holly. What did she see in Holly’s verdant green eyes that intrigued her so much? Maybe it was the openness in them. They hid nothing, unlike hers or her mother’s. When Holly was angry, she could tell, and when she was unsure of herself, like while in the dress shop, she could tell. She envied that in Holly.
Holly pulled the soldier and her fingers away, and Quincy could still feel the radiance of Holly’s touch in her fingers, her arm, and her chest. Just like her kiss that her mind replayed in her head often. It made a change from the awful memories.
“Can I have a brush?” Holly said.
Quincy shook herself. “Oh, sorry. Hang on a sec.”
Quincy got her a brush, put the paints between them, and propped up her computer pad on the table. “This is the picture of how the soldiers are meant to look, so if you can, follow that as a guide.”
Holly held the brush as if she was unsure of what to do.
“Start with the uniform, it’s easier.”
Holly sighed and dipped her brush in the red paint. “I’ll mess it up.”
“It doesn’t matter, Holly. It’s the process of painting it that’s important. It helps you calm and settles your mind. Besides, mistakes help us to learn.”
Holly laughed. “Well, I’ll be doing a lot of learning then. What soldiers are these anyway?”
Quincy picked up her own figure again. “Grenadier Guards. I’m working on a battle from the Napoleonic Wars,” Quincy said.
Holly started painting and they worked away in quiet contemplation for a while. There was no awkwardness during their silence. It felt nice, and easy. Quincy loved the look of concentration on Holly’s face.
She didn’t hold back from the task, and in fact attacked it with as much enthusiasm and gusto as she did everything else, making the occasional joke, or laughing at herself when she made a mistake.
It was endearing, and as time went on, Quincy found herself watching Holly rather than working on her own figure. Holly was everything Quincy was not. She sat cross-legged on the couch completely at ease, singing or humming as she painted. It was so attractive.
Quincy wished she could be that open and feel that much at ease. She felt like she had been on parade her whole life, and since the mission, since she’d lost her men and her friend was injured, things had gotten so much worse.
Holly yawned and stretched. “I’m tired, but this was great, Quin. Can I help you again?”
“Of course. I have a whole infantry division to paint.”
Holly looked at her quizzically. “I’ve never met anyone like you, Quin.”
“No?”
“No,” Holly said simply.
She stood and Quincy said politely, “Goodnight then, Holly.”
Holly chuckled. “Night night, Stompy.”
Quincy’s heart thudded as she walked away, and she reran the kiss in her head. “Stop this.”
As soon as Holly left, she gathered up all her things.
“Well, well, Captain.” She hadn’t heard Garrett approach her table. “Who’d have thought you would find the nerve to chat up a girl.”
Quincy gave her a pointed look. “I wasn’t chatting up anyone. She expressed an interest—”
Ignoring her and butting in, Garrett said, “Oh well, she’s going out with someone who can entertain her a lot better tomorrow night. Story St. John won’t bore her to death with toy soldiers. She’ll probably talk her into bed in an hour.”
Quincy slammed down her things on the table. “What is your problem, Sergeant? May I remind you that you are talking to a superior officer?”
“Losing a bit of your famous control there, Captain. I better watch out. I don’t want to end up beaten to a pulp.”
Quincy reined in her anger quickly. Don’t lose control. Don’t let them see.
She said nothing, so Garrett leaned in and said with contempt, “Yes, ma’am.”
Chapter Nine
The next day was a busy one for George and Bea, but not for Holly. Bea wouldn’t be back for any changes of clothes, so Holly helped Nanny Baker with Teddy. Suffering with a cold, Teddy wasn’t the easiest to take care of.
For most of the day Holly sat on the couch with Teddy lying across her lap watching her favourite children’s shows while Nanny Baker fussed around getting Teddy, food, medicine, and anything else she might need.
Holly looked at her watch, then stroked Teddy’s head. “It’s nearly time, Teddy. Do you want to see Mummy and Mum?”
Teddy sat up. “Mummy?”
Holly pulled her onto her knee and told the TV to turn to the financial news channel.
George and Bea had been in the financial district, promoting British business. They attended a reception in the morning and early afternoon, and now they would be ringing the closing bell.
Teddy sat up and looked at the TV. “Mum? Mummy?”
“They are just coming. I promise,” Holly said.
Sure enough, after about a minute George led Bea up onto the platform where the bell was rung.
Teddy spotted them and began to bounce up and down. “Mum, Mummy.”
She saw Quincy standing in the background. No one else would have noticed the security people, all the focus was on George and Bea, but Holly couldn’t take her eyes off her.
Quincy looked tense. Her head went from side to side, as if she was expecting trouble at every turn. Holly thought about how different Quincy was when they’d painted the toy soldiers together. She was calm and relaxed, and at ease.
That was something Holly believed Quincy rarely felt—to be at ease, and relaxed. Holly felt this pull, from somewhere deep inside herself, to help Quincy feel that way, and that was confusing.
Quincy was such a complex person, despite the bland, grey appearance she tried to portray. If anything of what Garrett told her was true, Quincy had a lot of troubled waters underneath.
What was she thinking? It was not her job to ease those troubled waters.
“Mum, Holls?” Teddy said.
Holly gave her a tight hug and kissed her head. “Don’t worry, Mum and Mummy will be back soon. They’re just doing their queeny thing.”
Yet Holly couldn’t deny that she found Quincy attractive. She looked down to Teddy and said, “Why did Stompy have to be so gorgeously good-looking, and troubled? It’s a deadly combination, Teddy.”
***
The day of Holly’s big date finally arrived. Bea and Lali had gathered in her hotel room to help her get ready. She poured herself into her dress, and Lali zipped her up. She turned around so Bea could see her. “What do you think?”
“Beautiful. Story is going to be stunned,” Bea said.
“Hardly, did you see her last girlfriend? Kiki Lavante? She had legs up to here”—Holly raised her hand above her head—“and had breasts out to here.” She held her hands in front of her chest as if she was holding a pair of melons.
“Well she’s an ex for a reason. Maybe she doesn’t like breasts out to there,” Lali said.
Bea added, “Besides, your breasts are fabulous.”
Holly gave her friend a lopsided grin. “Thanks for the support, girls. Do you think these earrings work with this dress?”
Bea tapped her finger on her chin. “Hmm. I think we could do better. I’ve got a pair that would go perfectly with your outfit. Bring your handbag, and we can stop at my suite on your way out.”
They made their way there, and when they rounded the corner they saw Quincy talking to one of the younger protection officers on the door of the Queens’ rooms.
Bea turned her head and winked at both Holly and Lali. “Captain Quincy? You’re just the person.”
Oh God. No, Bea, Holly thought.
; Quincy bowed her head. “How can I be of service, ma’am?”
“Holly here won’t believe how good she looks for her date tonight. What do you think?” Bea said.
Holly cringed. She could see by Quincy’s tightening jaw how uncomfortable she felt. Quincy stood with her hands behind her back, ramrod straight, as if on parade.
“Ms. Holly looks very smart, ma’am,” Quincy said.
That was not the kind of response Holly was expecting. She glared at Quincy silently.
Quincy bowed her head again and excused herself.
“Smart? I’m smart? Does she think she’s inspecting the troops or something?” Holly said.
“Don’t worry about her, Holls,” Lali said. “It’s just her way.”
“She wouldn’t know an emotion if it came up and kissed her on the face,” Holly said.
Bea and Lali laughed, but they didn’t know that it was true. Holly’s impromptu kiss had no effect on the stuffy, stompy Quincy.
Who cared, Holly told herself. She had a date with a film star.
***
Quincy was frustrated on so many levels this evening. As she ate dinner, another text message threat arrived: You never protect those you care about, do you? Remember Denbourg? It only takes one shot.
Quincy went back to her room. She couldn’t keep her fear of what might happen from showing. She paced around her room waiting on Blade’s call.
Her phone rang. “Blade? Have you found anything?”
“Yes and no. The messages are easy to trace, but they are all prepaid phones with no account attached. I’m sure if you followed the coordinates I have, you’d find the phone dumped in a bin again. It’s only a few miles away. I saw you got another text?”
“Yes, I take it you’re tracking my phone?” Quincy said.
“Of course. I’ll monitor your incoming messages and see what I can find out. I’m trying to trace where the prepaid mobiles were purchased. If I can do that, then I can hack the store’s security cameras, and we get our man,” Blade said confidently.
“Okay. What about Rodwell?” Quincy didn’t know if it was her prejudice that was driving her to think it was him. That was why she needed Blade’s clear-headed opinion.
“Yeah, I’ve tracked his phone, hacked his computer, and found nothing out of the ordinary. He’s living with his mum after leaving jail. But if he moves, I’m on him. I promise I’ll help you get whoever this is, Quincy.”
Quincy ground her teeth together through pure stress and frustration. “Thank you, Blade. I appreciate it.”
Quincy threw the phone on her bed and held her face in her hands. She needed to cool down, or this was going to drive her crazy. “The rec room.”
She’d go to the rec room and check and recheck the protection squad’s security files to see if there was something she had missed. Then she could also check that Holly got back safely from her date.
The past few nights she had spent painting her models with Holly had been the most relaxing and enjoyable nights she could remember. Holly’s positivity and cheerful personality were infectious, but tonight she was going out with someone else. Someone she could never compete with.
I’m not trying to compete. I can’t afford to feel that way, Quincy told herself firmly.
***
A limo picked up Holly outside the hotel and conducted her to the restaurant where she was having dinner with Story. Lali had told her it was quite an exclusive restaurant, where the rich and famous mingled.
That made Holly even more nervous. She was just a working-class hair and make-up artist. How was she meant to walk into a roomful of these people and not look out of place? She let out a long, nervous breath. Someone would probably try to give her their drinks order.
The car stopped, and the driver said, “We’ve arrived, ma’am.”
Holly felt sick. She couldn’t do this.
But before she knew it, the driver had opened the door. Some paparazzi took her picture before they realized she was no one famous, and they returned their attention to the windows of the establishment.
Holly reached into her small clutch bag to get a tip for the driver, but he said, “Don’t worry, ma’am. Ms. St. John has taken care of everything.”
“Oh, thank you,” Holly said, surprised. Story was a good date.
She walked to the restaurant door and a doorman conducted her inside. A snooty looking maître d’, who stood by the lectern in the reception, said, “Name please, ma’am?”
Holly had to squeeze her clutch bag to stop her hands from shaking. “I’m here to meet Story St. John?”
He looked her up and down, as if astonished that she could possibly be Story’s guest. “Name?” he repeated.
“Holly Weaver.”
“Ah, yes, Ms. Weaver. Follow me.”
Holly was led into the dining room and felt every eye upon her. She felt worse when she recognized some very famous film and TV actors. God, I shouldn’t be here.
Then she saw her—Story St. John, the woman of her dreams, at one of the tables waiting for her. When Story saw her, she stood and gave her the sexiest smile, then surprised Holly by saying very loudly, “Holly, great to see you.” Holly was again surprised when Story pulled her into an embrace and said enthusiastically, “You look absolutely gorgeous, babe.”
Holly’s very, very warm welcome was rather overwhelming, and before she knew it she was sitting down. She looked around and got some envious looks from women around her.
Story must have seen how uptight she was because she stretched her hand across the table and squeezed hers. “Hey, relax, babe. You’re too beautiful to look worried.” She ended that sentence with a cheeky wink.
Holly smiled. At least someone thought she looked nicer than smart. “Thanks, I’ve never been to a place like this for dinner.”
“Hey, it’s nothing. You work in a palace. All these people who like to think they’re important are nothing to your boss.”
“I suppose. You look nice too, by the way,” Holly said.
Story grinned and swept back her gorgeous floppy front fringe of dark black hair with her fingers, in that sexy way she had. “Thanks.” Story was wearing a black suit and a white open-necked shirt, but with a pair of distressed-looking but clearly expensive sneakers.
“Oh, before I forget.” Story got up and walked behind Holly. “We need to get a selfie. Smile.” Story lifted the mobile on her wrist.
Holly smiled. She smelled Story’s cologne, and oddly at a time like this, the date of her dreams, she said to herself, Not as nice as Quincy’s.
That was weird.
She was soon distracted by flashes coming from the restaurant window. Holly turned and saw a whole bank of cameras trained on them.
“Don’t worry about them, babe,” Story said. “They follow me around. Let’s order, huh? I’m starved.”
Holly opened up her menu to choose her food, then a thought occurred to her. If the cameras followed Story around, why get a table here? Why not a booth at the back of the restaurant where they could have privacy?
They began to eat, and Holly hadn’t laughed so much in her life. Story was very entertaining. Her tales of her childhood and getting into the film business were really funny. Story’s informality was like a breath of fresh air. Everyone in the royal court was so formal in their speech, and in their dress. Captain Quincy came to her mind. A masculine presenting butch lesbian, Quincy was even more conservative in manner and dress than Queen Georgina, and George was very old-fashioned as it was.
Quincy’s bland dark suits and matching ties would hardly win any fashion awards, and that military short haircut which was simply combed to the side was so boring compared to Story’s. Every time she saw Quincy’s hair, she had the greatest urge to run her fingers through it and mess it up.
Plus, Story was so open, and anything Holly asked she would tell her without hesitation. She had learned more about Story in half an hour than she had heard from Quincy the entire time they had known each ot
her.
Holly was surprised at Story’s enthusiasm for the date. She had assumed that she would want to get the bought-and-paid-for date over and done with. But no, it did feel like a real night out. Story flirted with her constantly, and it was weird and exciting to be flirted with by someone who had always been an untouchable famous actress.
The only thing that gave her pause was Story’s constant smiling looks to the cameras outside. Oh, and Story checked her phone, posting pictures on social media as they ate. It was almost as if they were sharing their date with the world. Story was never quite present with her.
“Enough about me. I heard you and Queen Beatrice were best friends from college,” Story said as the waiter cleared away the main course.
“Yes, the four of us—Queen Beatrice, Lali the Queen’s secretary, and Greta, our friend back in the UK. We all love your films, by the way,” Holly said. “We have a girls’ night at the palace every month, and we always watch your movies.”
Story’s eyes lit up at that comment, and Holly wondered if she’d said too much.
“Story St. John by royal appointment, huh? I like it,” Story said.
Holly was a little uneasy. “Do you mind if I nip to the ladies’?”
“Sure.” Story chuckled and took her hand as she rose to leave the table. “By the way, your English accent is so sexy. I could listen to you all night.” Story winked at her. “Why don’t I order us dessert, and then I’ll take you on to a club I know. The women are hot, but not as hot as you in those boots.”
Holly was lost for words. “You want to take me to a club?”
“Yeah, let’s drink, dance, and have some fun, huh? You like to have fun don’t you, Holly?”
Holly beamed, and her heart started to pound. “Fun is my middle name.”
***
Quincy looked up from her computer pad, gazed around the rec room, and realized she was the only one still there.
She looked at her watch. It was half past two in the morning. The only people who would still be up would be the duty officers on guard at the elevators and stairwells. She stretched and rubbed her face. She’d discarded her suit jacket on the arm of the couch, her top shirt button was undone, and her tie loosened.