by Lexi Whitlow
I make the coffee this morning, and I bring a cup to Maddox, waking him gently.
“Hey sleepyhead,” I say. “Got a cup for you.”
He rolls awake, surprised by the turn about. He’s got that early morning, sleepy voice going on. “What’s this?” He asks, bleary. It’s early, even for him.
“Coffee.” I say. “My turn.”
He takes a sip and props himself up in bed.
“You should be snoozing,” he says. “You’re never up this early.”
I nod. “I couldn’t sleep. I’ve been thinking—”
He scowls. “It’s too damn early in the morning for thinking.”
“Just the same, I think I need to go home and deal with Mother. Do what she wants.”
He shakes his head. “No babe… You hate that shit...”
“I do. But I also hate the idea of you blowing your whole world wide open for me. That can’t happen. I’m not that… reliable.”
I see his expression fall.
“You need to keep your job. We’ve known one another a long time, and you know me. I always do what my mother wants. She installed the buttons and she knows how to push them. I need to be at that fundraiser tomorrow. We have today, let’s chill out. I’ll call mother and have her send the plane for me tonight.”
“You don’t have to...”
“I do,” I say.
Maddox expression descends into a bleakness I’ve not seen before. I want him to know I’m doing this for him. He should be happy, but he looks defeated. Nothing I do is right.
“This way you get to keep your job, and we stay friends, and mother gets what she wants.”
“Friends?” Maddox says, his tone wracked. “Friends?”
“Friends,” I say, trying to keep my tone firm. “We’ve been friends a long time. Since we were kids. It’s time I started acing like an adult and worrying about more than just me. I can’t drag you into this fucked-up life I was born into. There’s too much baggage with it. You have your own stuff to handle. I know that now. I’m doing this because it’s the right thing to do.”
“Baby, I don’t want you to—”
“It’s what I need to do,” I say. “Don’t fight me on this. I know what I need to do.”
“Avery. Will you just listen to me for one second?” He’s only halfway awake and only partially focused. “I know this has all happened fast, but honestly, I wouldn’t change anything. Yeah – I hauled you down here – but look at what we have… You’re everything that matters to me. You’re…”
“Maddox. Stop.” I interrupt. “We’re friends. We have been a long time, and I’m not going to put your future on the line because of some infatuation – a ‘fixation’ – you’ve been harboring since high school. Even I can see that’s a selfish thing to do.”
“Friends,” he says again. “Okay. We’re ‘friends’. Call your mother. Do it that way. But don’t you think for a second this is what I want. I’m not afraid of Evelyn Thomas. You make me see the possibilities – not the limitations...”
“Maddox, please stop. Think of your job. The house you want, the life you want. Think about your mother. She loves you, and she deserves a decent place to live. And a chance to live longer. Don’t think for a second my parents won’t target her when push comes to shove,” I say, fighting the threat of tears. I want to fall into his arms and tell him everything I feel for him, but I know the outcome of that would be that my mother would ruin any prospect he had going forward. She would destroy him just for spite. “We’re good friends. That’s all. And that’s all it’s ever going to be.”
* * *
I didn’t get to make breakfast for Maddox. He went out for a run and was gone a long time. When he came home he went straight to the shower and then his computer. In the interim, I call my mother from his phone and arrange for my trip home.
“I’ll get your Rover and drive it back,” Maddox says, not looking at me.
My parents show up at the house in the mid-afternoon. Mother is triumphant.
“I’m pleased you’ve seen reason,” she says to me while glaring at Maddox. “At least one of you has intelligence enough to see the real world.
“By the looks of this little bungalow, you two have had quite the getaway. If I didn’t know better, Maddox, I’d think you staged the whole stalker incident to get my daughter alone down here with you so you could...” My mother raises both eyebrows when she says this.
At this implication I see Maddox instantly bow up and move toward her with intent. I step in front of him.
“Calm down,” I say, laying my palm on his chest. “She’s just trying to get a rise out of you. She’s good at that.”
“I want an end to this.” Evelyn Thomas says. “I like the fact that you want to keep Avery safe. But I don’t like that fact that the two of you are… together.” Her expression as she says that last word is fat with revulsion. “I’d like to propose a solution,” she says. “Maddox, I know your mother is doing better since we got her into that trial.”
“And my brother and I are grateful for that,” Maddox says through gritted teeth.
“Yes. Given that he’s out on an oil rig, you’re the one who cares for your mother. That’s correct, isn’t it?”
I watch Maddox’s face. A lesser man might give away exactly how pissed he is, but I see it, just barely, in Maddox’s eyes. “Yes. I am. But you and General Thomas already knew that. What’s your point, Evelyn?”
Maddox is barely keeping his cool.
“‘My point is that we’d love to pay for Nadine’s housing and medical care for the rest of her years. It’s a drop in the bucket for us, but it will make a big difference for her.”
He pauses.
“Maddox —” I take his arm. I hate that my mother is doing this, but the very prospect of it lightens my heart somehow. What if everything could be taken care of for her? Lifted away from Maddox? “Listen to her.”
He ignores me. “With all due respect Ma’am, my mother’s health is none of your goddamn business. And whatever Avery and I have – that’s not your business either. She’s twenty-five years old. You don’t own her and you can’t buy me.”
Once more I put my hand on his chest and press him back.
“Take the money.” I urge him quietly. “Agree to it. Come on.” He meets my eyes, his expression surprised — and then resigned. The reality of his mother having a permanent place to live sinks in as he looks at me.
He looks back at my mother, who just continues to talk like she owns the world. Like she always does.
“And while you remain on the job, I expect you’ll keep her from falling into bed with anyone else. She’s got no self-respect. You need to be her guardian in these things. I can’t have her indiscretions creeping up during the campaign.”
“Of course not,” Maddox says, his eyes locked on mine. “I’ll keep an eye on her and kill anyone who crosses the line.”
“Killing is going too far.” My mother says tersely. “Scaring the daylights out of them is fine.”
My mother surveys the room and looks to me. “Pack a bag, Avery. It’s time to go home. The jet is waiting.”
She looks to Maddox. “We’ll see you when you get back. You’ll need to escort Avery to the event tomorrow evening so make sure you’re both on time. I’m glad we were able to come to an agreement.” She pauses. “Money always works, doesn’t it?”
My heart sinks, and my mother walks out of the room, head held high.
“Is this really what you want?” He asks me.
“It’s what has to happen,” I reply.
But the feeling in the pit of my stomach when I walk away from Maddox gives me pause. I look back at him. He’s watching me, and I see something there I haven’t seen — or felt — in years.
He feels like home.
But still, I turn away.
Things like this can’t last — and Maddox needs money more than he needs someone like me.
Chapter 18
Maddox<
br />
I drive through the night to get back to San Francisco in time to see Avery before this surprise fundraiser, but even that plan gets thwarted by Evelyn Thomas. When I knock on Avery’s apartment door at ten in the morning, no one answers. I figure she’s still asleep, so I go downstairs to ask the doorman to let me in. He tells me Avery left with her mother an hour ago.
“I think they were going shopping,” he says.
I call Avery’s phone on the outside chance she’s gotten it back from the cops, and am astonished when her father answers.
“Maddox,” he says, his tone icy.
“You got Avery’s phone back,” I say. “Were the police able to trace the source of the photos and text the guy sent?”
“Don’t concern yourself with it, son,” he quips. “What can I do for you?”
He didn’t give the phone to the police. They probably didn’t even report it at all. What the hell?
“I’m looking for Avery, sir,” I say. “I’m trying to catch up with her before the event tonight.”
“She’s going to be out all day,” her father says. “She’s with her mother and they have plenty of security. Take the rest of the day and relax. Have Avery at the fundraiser by eight sharp and you’ll be doing your job. Just do your job, son.”
“Sir...” I start to say, but the line goes dead. That cowardly son of a bitch hung up on me.
I need to get Avery’s phone.
* * *
I arrive at her apartment at seven, and I’m not at all surprised that she’s not alone. Dan Diamond, a knuckle-head tough on the Senator’s personal detail, is there. He lets me in, looks at his watch, and smirks.
“That little twat is taking her time. She just got in the shower two minutes ago. She’s gonna be late again and—”
“Watch your mouth.” I warn. “She’s Miss Thomas to you.”
He frowns. “She’s a piece of work with a foul mouth and a bad attitude.”
Not much gets past Diamond’s keen powers of observation.
“You’re relieved. I got it from here,” I tell him.
He shakes his head. “I’m supposed to drive with you.” He grins, almost leering. “We’re double teaming her tonight.”
I seriously consider breaking Diamond’s face in response to that remark, but that would interfere with my goal of getting Avery to this fundraiser on time, then back to this apartment – safely and alone – so we can talk.
“You’re a real clever dude, Diamond,” I say. “You keep that shit up, and you’ll be grinning through a jaw wired shut.”
“Touchy, touchy,” he replies, still grinning. “A couple of the guys said they thought you tapped that shit. I couldn’t believe it, but now I do.” He tilts his head to the side knowingly. “Better make an appointment at the clinic soon, son. She might not be like that now, but she dates a few of these other sons of bitches back in the day. She might just be contagious—”
My thumb and fingers clutching his windpipe shut him up. One more pound of pressure and Dan Diamond is history. I slowly walk him backwards while I hang on, explaining to him how it’s going to be.
“You’re not going to say another word,” I tell him as he gasps for air, clutching impotently at my hand. “You’re going to keep your eyes down, off Miss Thomas, and off me. You’re going to speak only when you’re spoken to and limit your responses to yes sir and no sir. And once we get to the hotel, you’re going to vanish.” I tighten my thumb just a little for emphasis. “Am I understood?”
He struggles to nod ‘yes’ without cracking his windpipe against my grip.
“Good boy.” I release him with a shove and a threatening glare. I’ m pleased to see that he’s got at least enough sense of self preservation to tuck tail, drop his eyes, and go sit down in the living room – instead of making me really hurt him.
Twenty minutes later, Avery’s bedroom door opens and she appears, dressed and ready to go. I take one look at her, and my heart drops to the floor. Her hair – that gorgeous mane of curling, unruly, scarlet red locks – has been cut and tamed. It’s straightened and styled in a neat bob that just touches the top of her shoulder line. There’s nothing wrong with the style – on someone else – but it’s not Avery.
And that’s not all. She wearing a pant suit. It’s dark patterned gaberdine, conservative, shoulder pads on the jacket, revealing nothing except shining pearl buttons on a stiff blouse, buttoned up to her throat.
For God’s sake, she looks just like a younger, ginger clone of Evelyn Thomas, right down to the low-heeled, closed-toe, patent leather pumps on her feet.
She see’s my expression – I can’t hide it – and she looks away. I’m not sure, but I think I see a fleeting expression of shame color her face before she turns back smiling.
“I’m ready,” she says.
Her words are devoid of emotion. My heart plummets.
* * *
The drive to the Scarlet Huntington Hotel on Nob Hill is accomplished in absolute silence thanks to the unfortunate fact of Dan Diamond’s company with us. I glance in the rear-view a couple of times, but catch Avery’s eye only once. She gives me a weak, resigned smile, then looks away, her eyes focusing on nothing in particular outside the rear passenger window of the Range Rover.
The event is small – it was scheduled on short notice – but the venue is also intimate, which makes it feel more crowded than the last one. Diamond makes himself scarce as soon as we’re boots on the ground, leaving me to escort Avery through a small contingent of press hanging out in the lobby, looking for low-hanging fruit to pick-on. The fundraiser is a private affair – no press allowed – but that never stops them from hovering, looking for opportunities.
“Nice new hairdo, Avery.” A reporter barks, stepping up, camera in hand. “So you’re really joining the campaign? Is that what the new look signifies?”
Avery smiles politely but says nothing. I motion for him to step back and he does. He’s one of the professionals with cable news network television credentials. Later on, the “money shot” guys will start showing up. With them the questions and demands for photos become a lot less appropriate.
Once inside, Avery flips her “on” switch. She begins to move through the room from guest to guest, making small-talk as well as discussing big policy issues with poise and intelligence. She knows exactly who to win over with her attention, her beaming expressions of fascination, hanging on their every word. She knows who to shake hands with, who to hug cheek-to-cheek, and who to take in hand and introduce to her mother.
I slip to the sidelines, watching the room and everyone near Avery. I’m consciously surveying for a familiar face; someone who is paying too much attention to Avery. I don’t see anyone who fits the profile I’ve got in my head. All I see are over-dressed, over-stuffed opportunists, sucking up to Evelyn Thomas while sucking the life out of Avery.
I manage to avoid having to speak with either Evelyn or her husband all night long, but from my position, guarding the wall-paper, I get a pretty good opportunity to observe them both. Evelyn is like Avery in many respects. She works the room and its well-heeled occupants like a professional pickpocket. She winds it out of them in conversation, smiling and laughing at their bad jokes, then finding just the right opportunity, she dips in and secures their support. The people in this room already paid $5000 a head just for the privilege of breathing the same air as Evelyn Thomas, but she uses everything she has in her bag of con-game tricks to convince them it’s their idea to commit to more.
The even more interesting party to watch, however, is General Thomas. He doesn’t concern himself with the country-club donors and small-issue locals. He hangs back by the bar, a drink in his hand, and he lets the big fish swim up to him. By the end of the night he’s got a pocket full of business cards from lawyers and lobbyists, all willing to pay millions for easy access to the senator and her staff.
If Evelyn Thomas is re-elected, those same lobbyists will be the ones writing legislation that she present
s before the Senate as her own. Call me cynical, but I just know in my gut that those guys in three thousand dollar suits hanging out with General Thomas don’t work for The Nature Conservancy.
By eleven, at least half the guests have cleared out, and Avery looks flat-out exhausted. She’s a dutiful soldier, however, and she doubles back for a clean-up round with the stragglers. General Thomas has effectively clocked out. He sheds his jacket, rolls his sleeves up, and occupies himself in a low-voiced conversation with a guy who looks like he’s dressed for a night out at the pub rather than this black-tie fête. Neither of them look entirely happy.
I’ve seen the guy before, but I can’t place where.
General Thomas shakes his head at the guy, and I can read his lips when he says, “Absolutely not. It’s over. Done.”
The guy rolls his eyes and nods. “Okay. But I still get...”
Someone walks past him and I miss the last bit. Something about the guy and the way Thomas is talking with him feels hinky to me. Instinctively, I lift my camera from my hip pocket, snap a couple generic photos of the room and the crowd, then focus a tight shot on the guy’s face before snapping a few more randomly. All very nonchalant — I’m a trained professional, after all. Luckily, no one notices my sudden, out-of-character interest in the evening’s proceedings.
I could say I trust General Thomas because he’s a Marine. But that would be a damn lie. He’s become Evelyn’s right-hand man since retiring, and there’s no lengths he wouldn’t go to get his way.
I know that all too well.
A few moment’s later I see Avery turn slightly away from a walrus-toothed, tuxedo-clad man who’s gripping her hand like he might propose. She scans the room. I step away from the wallpaper and catch her eye in seconds. She nods to me, her quick glance requests my assistance in extracting her from her current companion. I’m happy to accommodate.
I step up behind Avery and touch her elbow, saying. “Miss Thomas, whenever you’re ready I can have the car brought up. You said we needed to leave by 11:45.”
She gives me a polite, slightly dismissive smile for the benefit of the man who won’t let go of her hand, and says, “Yes. Do that Maddox.” Then she returns to her admirer, all warm and glowing deference. “I’m so sorry, I have a midnight call – Tokyo – the time difference is brutal.”