I smiled, "Beekeeper is the name of the fringe research group that is buried deep in the bowels of the CIA. Hidden under layers of the façade the intelligence agency holds up." I glided the car onto the George Washington Memorial Parkway, excited to see there was little to no traffic. Settling into a nice speed, I leaned back into the seat, turning on the seat warmers for both of us, making Kit gasp in unexpected excitement and relax into the seat and move away from the vents. "I have one more secret. A secret that Rebecca still doesn't know about. Only my family and Davidek know this little story I am about to share with you." I stole a quick look at Kit. "When I was 17, the CIA came to my front door. At first it was under the guise of a research facility that had nothing to do with the CIA or the government. They came across my SAT, ACT, GRE, and MCAT scores and was intrigued by my metallurgical formulas and patents." I held the steering wheel at the bottom, keeping my eyes on the road as I kept on. "They interviewed me and had me do a massive questionnaire packet that I knew exactly what it was. An IQ and a spatial reasoning test. I took it anyways and even played around with the answers. Answering in a way that would skew the results and make it seem I was more of an idiot savant and not a true genius."
I turned to Kit, she was struggling to stay awake, her eyes drooping as she kept moving up in her seat, blinking at the sun then returning to look at me and try to listen. Smiling, I took the next exit and drove straight to the first coffee shop I spotted. Kit gave me a confused look, "What are you doing?"
Pulling the large black car into the tiny thin drive thru, I ordered for the both of us after Kit rattled off a coffee order that sounded like a complicated pass code. Waiting for the equally groggy barista to fumble through making our order, I continued. "The second home visit my parents and I knew they were CIA. My Dad had done his own investigating and confronted the two recruiters as they sipped earl grey tea from my Moms guest china." I tucked a five dollar bill in the tip jar glues to the ledge outside the window, "That's when I think they told us the truth. The CIA had taken notice of my formulas and my work, expressing interest in having me work for them, but skirted the edge of what exactly they wanted me to work on. They promised me entrance in any élite college I wanted, tons of money and travel."
I handed Kit her XXL four shot espresso coffee, laughing as she almost chugged the first sip. "The CIA didn't understand that I had all of those things and more. I was also leaving the metallurgical formulas for genetics. So, I politely declined their job offer. They politely accepted but kept eyes on me. Five years later, when I graduated from medical school and was moving into becoming a well-known geneticist prospect, beginning the infant stages of the organ project, they came back. Fully laying out the Beekeeper program in front of me like a buffet. A group of élite scientists and geneticists coming together to work on super-secret science projects to unlock the genetic code for the greater good of humanity. The group was even named after the Father of genetics and his beekeeping experiments."
I took a thick sip of the cheap, addictive coffee, loving the way it sunk into my veins with caffeine. "This second time I was interested, I wanted to move into heavy research work and do something more than plugging through random internships and wait for my turn to take lead on my own."
I set the cup in the middle console, "The further I went and the more I learned, I saw Beekeeper was nothing but science for weapons. Not science for humanity. I found the Criterion Centre at around the same time and pulled out of the CIA completely. I had no contract or formal agreement with them. My only mistake was sharing some of my notes with a few of the scientists. They immediately saw I was on the right path and it's been sharks to blood ever since. It didn't help when I walled them out of my life, falling into politics and hiding the doctor to never be discovered publicly. Buried in Geneva and behind locked doors. I thought it worked, and it did for a long time. They left me alone thinking I was just Senate bound and swept up in the romance of politics."
I gripped the steering wheel with both hands, twisting the leather cover in my hands, "The specifics of Beekeeper, I don't know yet. I met two geneticists and what I think was a handler of sorts. Other than that, who runs it and what their ultimate goal is outside of creating weaponry, It's a mystery." I sighed, "All I know is they are upset I don't share and won't share. Now they are doing what the CIA does best, take without asking."
Looking over at Kit, clutching her coffee cup with a scowl, I tried to smile to ease her. "They are persistent and as much as I want to point fingers at them. I need evidence, hard irrefutable evidence."
Kit shook her head, visibly frustrated, "Nina's word is not good enough?"
"No. She is former CIA and can be discounted as a disgruntled former employee. Davidek is doing his best with Ivan, to dig up more on Beekeeper."
Kit dropped her almost empty cup in the cup holder closest to her, now irritated and frustrated. "Sheehnan told me that one of your attacker’s years ago was CIA. Recognized him from a mission in the mountains of Afghanistan." Kit was verbally putting pieces together in front of me.
"He was. An investigation by the Secret Service, FBI and the CIA proved that man was former CIA. Disbanded three years prior for aggressive behavior in the field. The CIA didn't try to cover that one up. They wholeheartedly washed their hands clean of him and provided the proof they had. He was a man who fell into and followed that religious group on his own free will." I faded off, I would forever remember that face and spent much of my own money to investigate to the literal end to find out who would own responsibility for my attack.
"I don't know Claire, something about this, the two threats becoming interwoven gives me the impression it's more than a silly coincidence." She rubbed at her temple as we pulled into the expansive parking structure of the high end shopping mall. Kit closed her eyes, "I hate the mall so much. Couldn't we order a dress online? I am sure Amazon has dresses."
I parked the Cadillac in a spot right next to the main first level doors, under a surveillance camera I knew was fixed on the area. "I could have, yes, but it wouldn't have arrived until Friday morning." I shut the car off and leaned closer to Kit, "And I wouldn't have the pleasure of watching you try on dresses in a tiny, tight dressing room." I softly and slowly kissed her cheek before popping the door open and climbing out of the car.
I smiled, trying to hold in the laugh as Kit scampered out of the car and almost ran into me, misjudging the concrete parking block. She had to grab my elbow to steady herself, mumbling, "Why didn't you say so in the first place."
A shrug and a smile was my only response.
My hatred of the mall and large shopping centers in general, started when I was in my first assignment in the Secret Service, protecting a Congresswoman for a large district in Florida I had never heard of and forgot the second I heard it. She would constantly go shopping, not just two or three times a week like the wives of some other politicians, but every damn day after she left the office. Those quickly shifted to middle of the day shopping trips all in the name of going out for lunch. We would all hop in her black Cadillac limo and head to the mall. She also wasn't shy about advertising she was a critical part of the United States government. I had spent three months following her in and around all of the same shops at the mall, the same damn shops where she bought gaudy suits and then off to the same damn salon to get her massive helmet hair layered with more shellac.
Three months.
Then I was finally reassigned to a motorcade detail for the Senator of Montana. He was easier, only going to steakhouses, cigar bars or his mistresses’ house. But after those ninety days of torture with helmet head, I hated malls. The second I would step in one, I'd smell the congresswoman's tepid perfume entangled with the ozone destroying hairspray she used.
All of that held true when I walked into the Capital City Premiere Center. A mall designed for and catered to the stupidly wealthy. I rubbed my nose to clear out the sensory memory trying to latch onto my nostrils. I couldn't hold in the groan, letting it
escape and frown at Claire. She smiled at me, "It's not that bad Kit."
I nodded, still frowning, "It is. How long do we have to be here?" I started scanning around the mall for threats and out of place customers. Shaking my head at the handful of elderly mall walkers, tracking around every inch of every corner like it was their job. Claire continued looking at me, "Depends on how long you take to find a proper dress."
I walked over to the nearest display window, pointing at a calf length dark blue dress that looked perfect for a fifty year old woman going to one of those Irish dancing shows. "Found it. Can we go now?"
Claire raised her eyebrows, stepping closer and biting her bottom lip in preparation of her impending lecture. "Remember, this is my prize for winning." She reached up, her hand brushing some of my hair back, her fingers grazing my cheek and neck. Making me melt a little under her touch. "Yes, I certainly want you to look good for the charity ball. Maybe so good you chase away some of my admirers when they see you and see how you have silently claimed me as yours and yours alone. But." Claire moved closer to whisper in my ear, her breath warm and tickling the skin, drawing goosebumps and heat throughout my entire body. "But after, I want you to look incredible, stunning, and gorgeous. Because where we are going then, you will be mine and my only focus for the rest of the evening."
I swallowed hard involuntarily with a shiver running through my body faster than I could help it. Claire pulled back, making me frown once more for a completely different reason. If we weren't in the middle of a mall with old hoofers rolling around us in pastel sweat suits, I would have kissed her and shoved her into a side corridor. Finish where I started last night and tell the world to fuck right off until I had kissed and tasted every inch of this blonde in front of me. I had to shut my eyes tight, whispering, "You play dirty Senator."
Claire issued what I swore was a giggle, tugging on my coat to force me to move, "Move it Kit. We can start looking at the shop where my dress is waiting for the final alterations."
I groaned for the millionth time and followed her, grumpier now that I was at the mall and couldn't touch Claire liked I needed to and like she was obviously begging and egging me on to. We were in public and I knew eyes would be everywhere.
Claire dragged me to a ritzy dress shop that advertised in gold lettering that they dealt only in the best ball gowns and event dresses in the Capital. The third step into the store, a cheery older portly woman popped up from her seat behind the counter, full salesman grin on her face as she approached us, "Senator Avondale! It is always my pleasure to see you!"
Claire took the puffy hand offered and slid into the Senator persona, "Hello Evette. I am here to try on my dress for the final fit and we need to find my assistant Kit a suitable dress for the same charity ball." Claire turned to me, jokingly rolled her eyes, making me smirk.
Evette focused all attention on me, standing directly in front of me with overly quizzical brown eyes, "Kit? That is bit of an interesting name for a lady." The woman scanned me, taking in my measurements with an experienced eye while rubbing at her chin. "I have a few in mind." Evette fluttered her fingers in my face, "Follow me."
The woman bustled to the back of the store, removing dresses in varying colors from racks as she went, leading me to a small dressing room. Flinging the purple curtain back, she hung up the dresses along hooks lining the back walls. When she was done, Evette faced me, "Go ahead my dear. Try them on and let us know what you think."
She brushed past me towards Claire, "I will now get the good Senator set up." Evette was now refocused on Claire, "We made the minor alterations and it should fit you better than a glove."
Evette turned and saw me standing like a literal deer in headlights at the edge of the dressing room. She walked over, pushing me gently between my shoulder blades, puffy fingers digging in my back, "Off you get."
The curtain whooshed behind me. I was alone in a sea of empty dresses all staring at me like I knew which one I was to choose. I chewed on my lip, trying not to frown again as I took off the borrowed coat, my sweatshirt and the rest of my clothes, hanging them all up on a lone hook behind me.
I stood in my underwear, hands on my hips as I studied each dress trying to figure out which one I thought I liked. I cocked my head when I heard the curtain next to me repeat the same whoosh followed by Evette's cheery voice going over the details of Claire's dress. I tried to tune them out as the urge to climb up and peep over the wall to catch any glimpse of the Senator I had craved to see again, grew to be too much. I squinted, staring at the dresses, trying to shake the sole memory I had of Claire semi topless in the Malibu house. "Focus. Focus. Dresses, that's what we need here. Dresses."
The dresses all looked similar, boxy or curvy, boring or boring with crystals. The only one that stood out was deep burgundy one with a soft satin finish. The square neckline flowed into short three quarter sleeves and the skirt would rest along the top of my calves. It was sophisticated, but slim enough to be considered sexy to the right set of eyes. I held the dress up and away from its competition. There was ruching that pulled to the center of the dress at the waist then twisted around to the back as it flowed to the floor. I gently took the burgundy garment off the hanger, slipping it over my head. The dress fell perfectly over my body, falling into place at the right spots. Hugging curves and accentuating angles in a way that even made me marvel at how well it fit and how different I looked.
I turned in the mirror, finding curves I didn't realize I carried. Slow breaths in as my hands ran down the soft fabric. I felt different in this dress. I felt special, beautiful for the first time in a long time. I tuned into her voice as it commented on the alterations next door. Hearing her voice I realized I was finally wanted.
Wanted for my flaws, my mistakes, my past, my bad habits, my heart, my mind, my love. My eyes suddenly drifted to the edge of the skirt, I was embarrassed out of nowhere. Claire made that happen in me a lot lately. I couldn't argue with my feelings, because I felt all of them honestly and wholly for the first time in my life, and for the first time in my life someone loved me and thought I was everything.
I felt the grin on my face it was so wide, blinking back silly tears when Evette tapped on the side of the room near the curtain. "How are you making out in there, my dear? You find anything you like?"
My fingers tugged at the edge of the curtain, pulling it back to show Evette my selection, "I think this one is the one." I heard Evette coo in agreement, moving to fidget at edges of the dress, checking the fit. When I looked up, my eyes fell onto wide blue green ones staring at me with a blush rising up her cheeks. Claire's mouth dropped open and she coughed slightly. There was an object on a stick in her hand that she was eating, I couldn't tell right away what it was as she seemed to choke on the bite.
Wiping her mouth with a napkin, she stared at me, "Wow. You are beautiful, Kit." Claire's voice was a harsh whisper layered with desire and want. I felt the air leave my lungs in the best way possible when I heard her. Evette didn't hear Claire as she was too busy fidgeting about me, stepping in front of me and cutting off my view of Claire. Before I knew it, she was ushering me back into the dressing room to collect the final measurements.
I tried to lean around the portly woman to find Claire's eye line again, but she was staring at the counter, biting her bottom lip in a full blush. Evette poked me in the side, "Alright, off with it. I can alter it today and have both of your dresses at the Senators house by this afternoon." Evette bustled out, closing the curtain behind her.
I took a moment to collect myself. How was it that I only knew the blonde for a handful of weeks and yet she made me feel more that I had in my entire thirty one years of life? I took deep breaths before changing back into my jeans, t-shirt and hoodie. When I was redressed, I walked out of the small dressing room, the curtain dragging around my hood as I zipped it up. Claire stood at the counter with Evette, filling out a sales slip.
When I walked closer to the two woman, I noticed Claire holding a corn
dog on a stick in her hands, chewing on a rather large bite by the divots taken out of the remaining treat in her hand. "Are you really eating a corn dog at 10:30 in the morning?" I adjusted my hoodie over my holster, "Please don't tell me you wandered off to the food court alone." I lowered my voice as I stood next to her.
Claire smiled sheepishly, swallowing down her food, "One it's not a food court. The Capital City Premier Center only has gourmet cafes. Two, I never took one step outside of this store." She pointed at Evette, "She can testify to that."
Evette chuckled, head down as she continued scribbling numbers, "Senator Avondale was here the entire time." She ripped off the sheet, handing it to Claire. "The Senator is one of my favorite customers. I know her cravings and what she likes. I had Candace, my daughter, run off to the cafes and grab a little snack."
Claire folded the slip, tucking it into her front pocket. I was able to catch a glimpse of the total on the end line. It was a total of twelve thousand dollars for both dresses and alterations. I was compelled to speak up and exchange my dress choice for a cheaper one. I had never spent anything near that amount on one single item of clothing. In truth, I never spent near that amount on anything, even my busted old red sedan.
Claire finished her corn dog, depositing the stick in the trash, "Thank you Evette for everything. We must be moving on, we need to find Kit some proper east coast winter clothing."
Evette grinned, "Of course Senator Avondale. The dresses will be ready later today and delivered. All that I ask is you tell me how many people compliment the two of you on them." She waved us off, "You two enjoy the rest of your day."
Outside the store and back on the polished marble and granite walkways of the fancy mall, I looked at Claire, "I can pay you for the dress or find something cheaper." I felt guilty for the money she spent on me. This job stopped being about money days ago, probably the third day after I met her and saw Claire was different, and the way I felt about her was very different.
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