Tangled Thoughts

by Cara Bertrand

  Mr. President smiled. “Daniel Astor,” he said, with an affable wave of his hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

  “Holy shit,” she repeated.

  “That,” he said, “would be my opposition. You can just call me Dan.”

  “I—um, hi. Dan,” she said. It barely came out as a breath. I hated him all over again right then for being so damned charming. “I’m just going to sit out here.” She backed out of the room, squeaking as she bumped into Manuel, who once again saved the coffees.

  “Which one is Miss Young’s?” he murmured, in a voice much more soothing than you’d expect from him.

  “Lainey,” I reminded.

  Eyes wide, Nat swallowed as she held out my cup. “This one, um, I’m not sure who you are.”

  “Security,” he said, smiling that nice smile again and plucking my coffee out of her hand. I really didn’t think Secret Service were supposed to have senses of humor. Mr. Funny Man breached the doorway and brought me my coffee.

  “Thanks, Manuel.”

  “My friends call me Manny.”

  “My friends call me Lainey.”

  “Touché.” His eyes crinkled when he smiled, and I thought that so far, he was the best part of this whole rotten deal.

  “Lainey.” My aunt was still next to me. I hadn’t exactly forgotten her, but I was doing a good job of trying. I’d never felt that way before, ever. But then she’d never sprung a surprise brother or sister fathered by an evil Sententia sociopath on me either.

  My aunt was having my uncle’s baby.

  It sounded really weird when I thought of it that way.

  “Lainey,” she repeated.

  “Yeah?” Out in the front room, I heard the door open again and Kendra’s confused um before Natalie interceded in whispers. “Holy shit,” Kendra said, and I kind of wanted to laugh/cry.

  “Sweetie,” Aunt Tessa continued. If she wasn’t touching me, she was wringing her hands in her lap. “Maybe we could go somewhere? To have dinner and talk about this? We made a reserv—”

  “I have to go to a play.”

  “What?” She glanced at Dan again, who made a throat clearing sound, and that’s officially when I lost my shit.

  “I’m going to a play.” I stood, and even though I wasn’t remotely ready to go out in public, I gathered my things to leave.

  Eventually my aunt was going to cry. She cried at everything. “I know this is a surprise, Elaine,” she said. “I—I should have done this differently. I thought you’d be happy, and we could talk—”

  “What’s there to talk about?” As soon as I opened my mouth, the threatening tears spilled down her face, but I couldn’t stop myself. “This is kind of a done deal—you’re having a baby! It’s a little late for talking about it, unless you want me to help pick out names! We have like seven months to do that. I’m going to a play. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  I tossed my bag over my shoulder and walked out, past Manny, past my whispering roommates, and straight out of the building.

  I hadn’t said a word to Daniel Astor the entire time.

  NOT HALF A block later, I ran into Jack Kensington. Of course. He was walking down my street wearing a plaid shirt, an expensive coat, and a serious expression. As usual, he seemed primed for a photo shoot, as if a woman with a camera should be walking backwards in front of him, capturing the perfect shot every time the leaves gusted around him in the October wind. I, on the other hand, was wearing sweat pants and possibly mis-matched shoes, and I for sure hadn’t brushed my hair. I stopped and waited for him because why not?

  “Seriously? You’re walking down my street right now?” At the sound of my voice, surprise slid across his features. He looked around like he was in the wrong place.

  “Lainey?” His eyes traced me up and down as he came to a stop, like he had to verify it was actually me. “What are you doing out here?”

  “Running away,” I said. “But I live here. What are you doing out here?”

  He stuffed his hands in his pockets. “I—Are you crying?”

  “What?” I swiped my hand across my face. “No.” Though maybe I had been.

  “What happened?”

  I told him the basics because, again, why not? “I probably could have handled it better,” I admitted.

  “Probably,” he agreed. Looking over my shoulder, he added, “But I think you have a chance to rectify that.” He put a hand on my shoulder and spun me around. Sure enough, Aunt T, the devil, and his bodyguard were pouring out of my building and heading our way. “You ruined your grand exit by stopping to talk to me.”

  “I just—fuck.” Behind me, Jack made this coughing sound, like he was trying not to laugh, though there was nothing funny about this situation. “This sucks.”

  “Don’t want to be a big sister?”

  “What? No! That’s not i—” I went to glare over my shoulder at him, but he was gone. I whipped my head the other way to see he’d moved up next to me, and was trying not to laugh again. “This isn’t funny.”

  “C’mon. That was funny.” He imitated my confusion and I stamped my foot hard enough to crack the concrete.

  “Argh! What is it with me and guys who can’t be serious when things are going wrong?!”

  “I don’t know,” Jack said, “but it’s probably a good thing.”

  “Argh!” I wiped my face with the back of my hand and took a deep breath, then another.

  “Lainey!” My aunt was still crying. I held open my arms and she tumbled into them. “I’m sorry! This went so wron—”

  “Shhhh,” I soothed as she cried, and I felt strangely comforted. I’d always been the strong one, the one who hugged her when she cried. This was familiar. Not everything had gone to hell. “I’m sorry,” I said, and I repeated it over and over until her tears began to slow.

  Over my aunt’s shoulder, I locked eyes with the senator. I’d told him to stay away from my family. I’d told him. I’d done what he wanted, earned my freedom, and this is what I ended up with anyway. I held his gaze, hoping my eyes conveyed all the hatred they possibly could. But if they did, it didn’t scare him, because he didn’t flinch. He might even have smiled.

  We stood like that, an awkward family reunion on the windy city street, until Aunt Tessa croaked a muffled, “Lainey?”

  “Yeah?”

  She picked up her head and wiped her eyes. “Who’s this?” She gestured to Jack, quiet, handsome, and still standing next to me.

  “Oh.” I’d forgotten he was there.

  “Jack Kensington,” he said smoothly, topping it off with a perfect smile that showed his dimple. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He held out his hand to Auntie, and she took it, a little smile growing on her face.

  “You as well,” she replied. She patted her own mussed hair and swiped under her eyes once more. “Sorry about this.” She held up a hand, as if to indicate, I didn’t know what. The circumstances, I supposed, including her tears, and my own ragged appearance.

  “He’s my TA,” I said stupidly.

  “Is he now,” said Aunt Tessa. She still had one arm around my waist and she tapped her fingers against my side. I tried not to squirm. After a short lull, because obviously I was not going to do it, Auntie introduced our illustrious companion. “Jack, this is Daniel Astor.”

  Dan stepped forward and held out his hand. “Mr. Kensington.”

  “Sir. It’s an honor to—to see you,” Jack stuttered, like he was embarrassed or, possibly, star-struck.

  “You know each other?” I blurted out. I could not handle that too.

  Jack glanced at me, a little sheepish grin playing on his face. “Doesn’t everyone recognize Senator Astor?”

  “Oh.” Duh. Of course. Naturally, Jack would recognize him. Probably every kid who went to a Sententia school would.

  “You’re too kind,” Dan demurred, and my fingers tightened into a fist at my side. I wished I could punch him. “Well. Perhaps we could move on to a less breezy location?”

  �
��Is Jack joining us?” Aunt Tessa said, a little more hopefully than I liked.

  “He’s my TA,” I repeated. Why did that only seem to matter to me? “And I don’t know what he’s doing here—I just ran into him on the street.”

  Jack shifted the bag slung over his shoulder. “I was meeting…someone at the Castle. For a drink.” The way Jack hesitated over someone made me sure it was a girl he was meeting and I wished the idea didn’t make my stomach clench.

  “Oh,” I said, and my aunt squeezed my side.

  “A drink, eh?” Dan interjected. “A drink sounds perfect right now, doesn’t it Manny?”

  “It definitely does, sir,” Manny agreed.

  “Well then.” Dan smoothed his coat. “If I may be so bold as to invite myself, may we join you, Mr. Kensington? If it won’t upset your companion, of course,” he added.

  Jack coughed. “That sounds fine.”

  Dan nodded, our plans determined. “Tess,” he said, and I hated the way he said her name. There was affection in it, the kind I wasn’t sure even he could feign. “Perhaps you and Lainey would like some time together?”

  “Yes, I think we would. Does that sound okay, honey?”

  “Yeah,” I agreed, because alone time with my aunt sounded good. And besides, what else could I say? I’d lost control of this situation a long time ago.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Carter

  Halloween was sexier than I remembered it, if Alexis’s costume was any indication. Which wasn’t a bad thing. At least there was some reward for what I’d let her do to me.

  I watched myself in the mirror as she applied the finishing touches to my face. She stepped back, satisfied. “All right, done. Let’s go before it gets any later.”

  “I look ridiculous,” I informed her.

  God help me, but I’d agreed to let Lex pick my costume. I had not expected to turn out as a Lothario pirate in pants too tight—way too tight—and shirt too loose. And with not enough buttons. And boots that laced up to my knees. I should have been more concerned when she asked for my shoe size.

  “You look perfect. Come on.” She dragged me out the door of her dorm room and slammed it behind her. I didn’t visit her dorm often, because I had a luxury apartment and Lex liked luxury. She hated her roommate and barely called, “Bye,” to her as we escaped into the hallway. “God, she could have left an hour ago. You have to stop being nice to her.”

  “Maybe you need to start,” I suggested and she huffed.

  “Are you kidding? She’s boring. And stalker-y. She just likes to stare at you. Seriously, she asks me if you’re coming over every single day.”

  “Maybe because I’m nice to her.”

  “No. Because she hopes to get a peek of you in your tight little boxer briefs. Know who she reminds me of? Your creepy kissing-cousin, Jill.”

  I didn’t reply. Alexis knew it upset me when she talked about Jill, but she thought it was because she never said anything nice. Niceness was something we argued about regularly. We were both on a mission to get the other to be more/less of it.

  Outside her building, we headed in the direction of the party, walking fast while scanning for taxis. Speaking of little and tight, I tugged as discreetly as possible on the leather pants she’d squeezed me into.

  “I think you ordered the pieces in the wrong size.”

  She raked her eyes up and down my get up, lingering on one of the too-tight places. “Trust me, you’re the only one who’ll think that. You look hot.” I looked like an asshole, but I didn’t tell her that.

  I slapped her nearly bare ass with the plastic sword strapped to my belt. “You don’t look like a Raven.”

  “Shut up. I look hot.” She did.

  We were on our way to the Rogues and Ravens party, whatever the hell that meant. Probably whoever thought it up wanted to say Maidens, but then someone got to rhyming and Ravens had the nicer alliteration. Who cared if it made sense?

  “What, exactly, are you supposed to be again?”

  She glared the truly perfect glare of a debutante. “A chef.” She gestured at her ensemble, from the tiny white dress with offset-buttons, to the scarf that rested artfully against her cleavage, ending with the little white barrette in the shape of a chef hat. It glittered against her dark hair, which was the closest thing to “raven” about her.

  “I think the length of your uniform is a health code violation.”

  “Fuck off. You like it.” I did. She tugged on the fool scarf tied around my head. “Your old hair would have been perfect with this. I should have gotten you a wig. Damn.”

  “No, you shouldn’t have. That’s where I would have drawn the line.” Which was likely not true, because I’d let her go so far as to line my eyes with dark pencil. What was a wig on top of guyliner?

  Alexis knew this. “Add some nice dark, flowing hair and those baby blues would pop even more. Maybe you were born for this pirate thing.”

  Probably not, because I got sea-sick. I didn’t mention that. It was more embarrassing than the costume. Growing up in New England with a father who was afraid to fly and a life without much room for vacations, I’d been on my first whale watch in first grade. I’d seen no whales but become intimately friendly with the toilet. When I was fourteen, I’d humored Aunt Mel and tried again, thinking maybe I’d grown out of it. Same results, but worse somehow. I was almost six feet tall and supposed to be a man.

  “By the way, Michael Jackson called—he wants his jacket back.” It was a deep red velvet and, like everything I was wearing, felt expensive. Intentionally shabby brocade bits lined the cuffs. Lex was visibly shivering by now, so I slipped it off and draped it over her shoulders. She gave me a look but didn’t protest.

  “I was going more for Captain Morgan,” she said, pulling the jacket tight around her.

  “Who?” I tried to keep a straight face but it didn’t work.

  “Seriously? Captain Mor—Oh, shut up. I’ll introduce you to him tonight. But no fighting,” she reminded me for the fifth time.

  I slapped her with the sword again. “Probably couldn’t anyway. My range of motion is impaired and I’d lose. And I’m getting concerned about my future ability to father children. It would be pretty tragic for the Penrose line to end with me.”

  Lex hesitated. “I’m pretty sure your future children are still intact,” she said finally, but it lacked the spark of everything before it.

  “Hey? What’d I do?” Uncle Jeff had taught me to claim responsibility.

  “Nothing.” Lex tugged the coat tighter and I added my arm over her shoulder. “It’s just weird to joke about your future children, that’s all.”

  “I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

  “I know,” she said, with this measure of defeat in her voice.

  “Hey.” She shivered and I hugged her close to me. We had to get a taxi soon. At this rate, by the time we got there, Lex would have frostbite and I’d really have fucked something up. “I don’t know what I did here, I’m sorry. Could you maybe tell me? So if I do it again at least it will be on purpose?”

  A bubble of laughter floated up from the folds of my ridiculous silk shirt, so I knew I hadn’t dug my hole any deeper. Yet. “It’s just—arrrgh!” She thumped her head against my chest. “Okay, listen, because this is the kind of girly breakdown shit I just don’t do so I’m going to say it one time and then we’ll forget about it. Right?”

  “Right.” I held very still. Alexis admitting to doubt was rare, like unicorn blood, but chinks in her armor were good for her. They let out some of the things she’d been burying since she was fifteen. The imperfections made her more her, the girl I’d always liked underneath, even during the years when I hadn’t much liked the rest of her.

  “Here’s the thing—you’re joking about kids and the future, and it’s just, well, am I the future? I know that’s, like, far away, but I…I don’t want to be a joke. Okay? God, I need a drink now. Let’s go.” She tried to twist out of my grip, b
ut I tugged her back.

  “No. Wait.” I couldn’t go on without saying something. “You’re not a joke or a, a fling. I swear you’re not. I was joking, but not about you. I’m sorry. I—” haven’t thought about this before I started to say. But I had.

  I had imagined a whole future, could see it so clearly I’d thought it was guaranteed. I saw my apartment filled with antiques and dark haired children with green-blue eyes running around the store like I had as a kid. But it turned out to be just my imagination. I hadn’t thought beyond now in any real way since.

  Finally, I said, “I’m just figuring things out as we go. And I thought we were going good?”

  She smiled. Tentatively at first, but it spread into a champion of a grin. “Yeah,” she said. “We are.”

  “You say that like it surprises you,” I joked, and gave a little tug on her cleavage scarf.

  She bumped me with her hip. “It does.”

  “I know,” I said. Because it surprised me too, in a good way.

  “I’m not even sure why I bother. You’re too serious and work too much and are too prone to brooding—”

  “But I look good.”

  “Don’t interrupt! But, I was going to say, you look, like, scandalously good in those pants.”

  “Arrrr. And what lassie can resist a brooding, tight-panted rogue?” I poked her with my sword again, which was proving to be the most fun part of the costume.

  “Get your cutlass away from my ass before I reconsider!”

  “Seriously though, I’m working on those first things.”

  “I know.”

  “I mean, I’m wearing this.”

  “Admit you love it.”

  I kind of did. Pretending to be someone else had its advantages. I hadn’t done a proper Halloween since I was a kid. Last year I’d ducked out of candy duty at the store long enough to see Lainey in her evil witch costume, and that was as close as I’d come in years. Funny though, I hadn’t thought of that until just now, and the memory didn’t make my chest constrict.