“Oh holy—” I whirled out of bed. “Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.”
“Mr. Hawkins and Adam Ho are waiting for you in his office. I wouldn’t bother getting dressed.”
I should have known at least one of those girls at the dance was snapping pics. Once she saw me on the news, she went right to the tabloids, hoping to cash in.
I grabbed my robe and headed for Hawkins’ office, knowing he’d give me hell. But right now, I didn’t care about Hawkins. I cared about Luke. The media would dig in, trying to find out who he was. And Hazel McAllister would probably offer up everything she’d seen. I could not let the feds track Luke down through me.
Ho greeted me with a nervous glance. The tablet with its lethal revelation was propped on the desk.
Hawkins gazed out the window, a crystal paperweight in his hand. “Who in the hell are you with in that photo?” He gripped the glass ball so hard his fingers looked like claws. “Tell me the truth. Now.”
The room was electric with Hawkins’ rage, and I stood there, mouth open, but nothing came out. I had to protect Luke, but I didn’t know how.
Ho got between me and Hawkins. “Avie, we need to deal with this situation. We need you to be completely forthcoming.”
“Goddammit!” Hawkins pitched the paperweight at the floor and I jumped as it shattered. “Who is that!”
Hundreds of glass slivers littered the stone. “It’s Luke Stanton.”
His head whipped up. “The son? You said you’d barely met him. You lied to me!”
“Yes, I’m sorry.”
“Son of a— You were lovers, weren’t you?”
“No. We were just traveling together. We never—we pretended we were married, that’s all—” I refused to count the kiss Luke and I shared in our final hour together.
Hawkins held up his hand for me to stop. “Where’s Luke Stanton now?”
“I don’t know. We got separated in Fort Collins.”
“Don’t lie to me.”
“I’m not! Your Retrievers snatched me when Luke was paying for gas. I don’t know where he is.”
Ho glanced back and forth between Hawkins and me. “The crisis management expert should be here in a few hours,” Ho said. “Why don’t we break until he arrives?”
Hawkins adjusted his watch. “Fine. We’ll reconvene when he gets here.” He was done looking at me, but I didn’t know if I should move until Ho gave me a nod.
I backed out of the room and scurried down the hall as quietly as I could. Deeps passed me with a broom. “You’ll want to stay inside,” he said. “The press is back.”
30
Hawkins summoned me when the crisis manager arrived. I swept through the garment bags in my closet. Ho hadn’t sent me instructions, but I knew I needed an outfit that said “Innocent.” I found a black skirt that hit me mid-knee and a blush silk blouse that covered me from my slutty neck to my shameless arms.
When I came out of my dressing room, a news chopper buzzed over the ocean, cameras trained on the house. Deeps positioned himself between me and the windows as he led me down to the indoor pool. “We set up in here to prevent those cameramen from getting a shot.”
Hawkins and Ho sat at the sleek aluminum and glass table with the crisis manager, whose back was to me. He was African American, taller than Hawkins or Ho, and his silver gray suit fit his body like it had been cut for him. He stood up as I walked in. “Aveline,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Sigmund Rath. Senator Fletcher sent me.”
My heart skipped a beat. Helen?
It couldn’t be.
When I’d last seen her in Vegas, Maggie’s assistant/costume designer/coconspirator had just shaved her head, styled herself in a man’s suit, and set off to sabotage the casino elevators.
But Sigmund’s expression was wrong for Helen. His brows were too full, and his closely cropped hair was salt-and-pepper not siren red.
I managed to shake Sigmund’s hand, and mutter hello. I glanced at Hawkins and Ho as I sat down, wondering if they’d tuned in to my surprise, but they weren’t even looking at me.
“Avie, may I call you Avie?” Sigmund said.
“Yes.” I peered into Sigmund’s face.
“You may call me Sig, if you like.”
“Sig.”
“My job is to ensure that the Jessop Hawkins candidacy is not defined by this event and to reinvent its future.”
“I understand.” Maybe in my panic I’d confused him with Helen, but the small mole by his left eyebrow…?
“Our immediate goal,” Sigmund continued, “is to distance you from this seemingly incriminating photograph, but our long-term goal is to reinvent you as a young woman who embodies Paternalist values.”
I felt loopy, like I’d crossed into a parallel universe where everything was the opposite of the reality I knew, where Helen was Sigmund, and Sigmund intended to make me into everything Helen hated.
“Avie, are you listening?” Sigmund tapped my hand.
“Yes, yes. I’m sorry. You want to distance me from the photo.”
“Jessop confirmed that you are the girl in the photo with Margaret Stanton’s son, Luke.” Sigmund held my gaze, and suddenly I knew, and there was so much we wanted to say, but couldn’t.
“Yes, that’s right.”
“I need you to describe exactly where you were and what you were doing when this photo was taken so we can create a credible alternate narrative to explain it.”
My fingers played with the pleats on my skirt. “I don’t want anybody to get hurt. The people who helped me are innocent.”
“No one who helps a fugitive is innocent,” Hawkins snapped.
Sigmund paused for a moment, before saying, “Let’s focus on the task at hand. Avie has been cleared of those charges. Our attention must be on rebranding her as the young woman whose concern for protecting innocent children led her to escape from the church in which they were being used as a human shield by the terrorist Margaret Stanton.”
Hawkins rubbed his thumb across his watchface. “Very well.”
“We will not expose the people who helped you, Avie,” Sigmund promised. “That will not work to anyone’s advantage. Instead, we will create a narrative that exposes how the person who gave the media that picture was mistaken.”
Sigmund quizzed me for an hour in front of Hawkins and Ho, always focusing on the facts of who I’d met, what I’d called myself, what interactions I’d had with people in Pocatello. Hawkins bristled when he heard me describe how Luke was driving when the Retrievers picked me up. But no one asked why Luke and I were headed to Colorado.
Then Sigmund sketched out the strategy: demonstrate that the person who took the photo mistook me for the girl at the dance by creating a false identity. Birth certificate, marriage license, online presence.
Ho was taking notes and throwing out questions. Hawkins uncrossed his arms.
“We can fix this in twenty-four to thirty-six hours,” Sigmund said. “But Avie’s reinvention could take months.”
“We don’t have months!” Hawkins said. “The primary’s in June.”
“I understand your frustration, but we can transform this scandal into millions of dollars of free public relations.”
“How?” Ho said.
“Aveline is a curiosity. She’s the girl who came back. People will look at her and see the young lioness that Jessop Hawkins has tamed.”
My stomach clenched. Only a few weeks before, Hawkins had told me he looked forward to taming me.
“You mentioned limiting Avie’s public appearances,” Sigmund went on, “but hiding her in Malibu is a waste. Voters want a look at the most intriguing young woman in the country. Put her on the stage, and they’ll flock to your rallies.”
Ho and Hawkins exchanged glances. Hawkins didn’t love the idea, but Ho did. “We can make it work, Jessop.”
“How are the plans progressing for the Signing?” Sigmund said.
“We’re on target for December twenty-third,” Ho said.
>
“Nine days. Good.”
Good? Helen is playing her part too well. Why isn’t she trying to delay?
Hawkins scowled as Ho ticked off the items that were being finalized: guest list, caterer, music, tent and decorations, security, remote parking, publicity. The vile dress I’d been fitted for weeks ago that the designer said I should wear without panties.
“You’re inviting Vice President Jouvert, of course,” Sig said.
“Jouvert rarely attends events for Paternalist candidates,” Hawkins said. “He’s careful about who he’s seen supporting in public.”
“Jouvert will come,” Sig insisted, “given the likelihood you’ll be the next governor. He needs California voters if he wants to be the next president.”
Hawkins and Ho traded a look. “Fine,” Hawkins said.
I didn’t understand why Sigmund insisted that Jouvert be invited, but clearly Hawkins and Ho hadn’t clued him in that we’d just blackmailed Jouvert.
Sigmund checked his Piaget. “We should discuss Aveline’s cause.”
“Her cause,” Ho said, his tone completely dismissive.
I leaned forward, wondering what Sigmund had up his sleeve, when he wagged a finger, telling me to keep still.
“Your ultimate goal is for Jessop Hawkins to become president of the United States, is it not?” he asked Ho.
“Of course.”
“First Ladies are defined by the causes they promote. Think Laura Bush and literacy or Hillary Clinton and universal health care. The media excitement over Aveline’s return won’t last forever, and the right cause can brand her as First Lady material.”
Ho’s eyes flicked back and forth like he was reading polling results, and he tossed Jessop a nod before saying, “What do you suggest?”
“Orphans. Jessop led the effort to create the nation’s orphan ranches. Having Avie stand by his side and defend the innocent will cast her as mature and maternal. A young woman devoted to the future of the country.”
My skin began to prickle. Sigmund had some grand plan, and it probably included me spying for the revolution. He was going to be disappointed to find out that my days as a revolutionary were over.
Sigmund gave me a long, hard once-over. “Bring in a stylist you trust,” he said. “And get her hair back to its original color. Then we’ll work on wardrobe and interviewing skills. Once we get the Pocatello incident behind us, we need to get her out there.”
Then Sigmund took in Hawkins. “I don’t know who’s responsible for developing your public persona, but if you will excuse my saying so, they have failed to counsel you effectively.”
I stifled a smile as Hawkins narrowed his eyes at Sigmund. “You find fault with my style?”
“Intimidating. Hard-edged. Superior. Your style fits a CEO, but voters don’t elect candidates who intimidate them. They elect people they like. If you wish, I can suggest some simple changes, hair, wardrobe, accessories, to increase your likability factor.”
Hawkins gave Sigmund a look that could melt steel. “I’ll consider the offer.”
“Very good.” Sigmund stood up. “Adam,” he said to Ho. “Let’s get to work.”
Jessop eyed me as if he expected me to stay. I sat taller in my chair.
Once we were alone, he said, “I need to know that you were telling me the truth when you said you weren’t romantically involved with Luke Stanton.”
I was relieved I didn’t have to lie. “No. He helped me, because of his mom.”
“You really don’t know where he is?”
If I did, I wouldn’t tell you. “All I know is Luke planned for us to go into the mountains.”
“Would he have changed plans after you disappeared?”
My heartbeat thudded in my ears. I wondered if Hawkins suspected Luke was carrying evidence, too. “No, he was set on the Rockies.”
“You’re sure?”
“Yes, I swear, I don’t know where else he could be.”
“I’m sick of being blindsided by revelations about who you were with or what you did when you were on your little adventure.”
“It wasn’t an adventure,” I muttered.
“If there’s anything else you’re hiding from me, you need to come clean now. Do you understand? We’re both in danger here.”
“I get it.” I would not tell Hawkins anything more about Luke or what I suspected he might do. “I gave you the phone. You’ve got the files that were on it. I don’t know what else you want from me.”
“All right then.” Hawkins went to unfold his cuffs and then stopped himself. “You coming?”
“No, I think I’ll hang out here for a while.”
I waited until I was sure Hawkins was in another part of the house before I went back to my room. My head was spinning as I changed into jeans. I didn’t know how Helen had managed to get into Hawkins’ circle, but I was dying to know why she was here.
31
Ho must have offered Elancio, the stylist, a fortune, because an hour later his Airstream was parked in the subterranean garage alongside Hawkins’ Ferrari California.
Unlike the last time I’d been in Elancio’s salon, Elancio hadn’t bothered to fill the bud vases flanking the mirror, and there were no garment bags spilling out of the blond maple cabinets. Today his job was to fix the damage I’d done to his “creation,” and return me to the reincarnation of Letitia Hawkins, mother of the next governor of California.
Sigmund observed from the curved white leather banquette, sipping an espresso, while I sat in the salon chair and Elancio ran his fingers through my hair. “This is criminal,” Elancio grumbled. “This color—so trashy, so fake.” He went to tape a photo of Letitia Hawkins on the mirror.
“You won’t need that,” Sigmund said.
Both Elancio and I looked at him.
“Jessop and I agreed that Aveline cannot reassume the look she had before her ordeal. She has changed, and her look must reflect that: stronger, more dynamic, with a hint of sexy.”
“Right. I’m the young lioness that Jessop Hawkins has tamed.”
“Exactly,” Sigmund answered.
“Very well,” Elancio said, tossing Letitia’s pic in a drawer. “A young lioness.” He crossed his arms and contemplated my reinvention, tapping his chin with one finger.
“Close to her original color, but bolder,” Sigmund said. “They told you extensions, correct?”
“Yes. Yes. Return her hair to its original length.” Elancio fished inside a cabinet filled with boxes of dye. “And those brows—pah!”
Ho arrived while Elancio was painting the color onto my hair. “We’ve got her booked with Evan Steele, the morning show tomorrow, just as you asked.”
“Steele will hit her hard, but then it will be over and done.” Sigmund turned to me. “Tomorrow you must convey strength and femininity. You were confused, and misled by people you trusted, terrified by the violence you were exposed to, and now you’ve returned to Jessop’s side, where you are safe and happy.”
Ho was taking it all in.
“I’ll need to review her wardrobe before I leave. Adam, see if you can get a duplicate of the Love bracelet that Aveline wore on the cover of People. And once Elancio is done here, we should review talking points.”
Ho nodded and left.
Elancio applied the last of the dye, and peeled off his gloves. Then Sigmund got up and slipped him a folded hundred. “Why don’t you take a cigarette break?”
Elancio raised an eyebrow, but he said nothing, and dug out his pack. Sigmund waited for him to leave, then raised a finger telling me to be quiet. I watched quietly as he reached under the makeup counter and the red light in the monitor behind me went black.
“Girl, I thought that man would never leave.”
“Oh my God, Helen, I can’t believe you’re here.”
“I almost can’t believe it myself. Imagine me inside the cave of the Demon King,” she said, waving her hand at the garage full of luxury cars.
“Senator Fletcher d
idn’t really send you, did he?”
“Technically, no. Although he often employs the services of the other Sigmund Rath. However, I doubt either Jessop Hawkins or Adam Ho have the nerve to call Fletcher’s Washington office to verify my identity in the midst of le grand scandale politique. I trust you will keep my secret?”
“Of course I will, but if anyone figures out who you are—”
“You’re sweet to worry, but I’ve spent most of my life hiding my true identity. And besides, I’m not the one who’s in danger right now.”
I ducked my eyes. I didn’t deserve her help. “I’m fine, Helen.”
“I’m talking about Luke.”
My cheeks turned scarlet. “Yeah, of course.”
“Not that your situation isn’t serious, Hummingbird, but there’s a nationwide manhunt for him. Maggie left money and forged identity documents. I can get him out of the country if I can find him.”
“Maybe he’d listen to you. I tried to get him to go.”
“Do you really believe he’s in Colorado?”
“No. I wish I did, but we were on the way to meet two reporters when the Retrievers picked me up, and I don’t know if he met them or if they were even real.”
“I’m not following.”
“This man who hid us—his name is Streicker—I think he set Luke up so he’d stalk Jouvert. I’m terrified Luke might try to assassinate him.”
“What!”
“He’s so angry, Helen. Luke wants revenge for what the feds did to his family.”
Helen’s eyes widened. “You care about him.”
“Yes, I do—and he’s not a killer, he’s—” The truth of who Luke really was and how I felt was complicated, too complicated to explain now.
“Well, we have got to locate him. If there’s anything else you can think of, anyone else he might have turned to outside of Salvation, you need to tell me.”
“All right,” I promised.
She reached in her suit jacket and pulled out a photo. “Is this what he looks like?”
It looked like Luke, but something about it was off. “Where did you get this? Luke told me there weren’t any pictures of him.”
A Girl Undone Page 18