Public Secrets (Artificial Intelligence Book 1)

by Liza O'Connor

  When Davis finally appeared in the long line, the man looked as if he’d been tortured.

  “How was your flight, sir?” Davis asked.

  “Better than yours, I think,” Chad replied with a sympathetic smile.

  “Then you weren’t bothered?”

  “No. Not at all.” Chad smiled as the image of Carla came back to his mind.

  “When I saw it was a young woman, I figured she would drive you crazy.”

  “No. I don’t even think she knew who I was.”

  Davis scoffed. “That’s just a scam. They all know who you are.”

  “You know, Davis, there are people who don’t watch football.”

  He slipped in front of the man. The moment they cleared the gate, a crowd of reporters swarmed around him, yelling questions.

  Yes, he truly envied Carla—whoever she was.

  Chapter Three

  The man stood with the reporters, waiting for her. They had assured him she was on the plane. He had studied the picture from her latest book’s dust-jacket, so he felt confident he could find her. He had an assistant watching the car rental counter where she held a reservation. He could have waited for her there, but he was always careful, always covering the angles. The mass of reporters made him nearly invisible.

  He prided himself on his precise planning. It was why he could charge so much. He had a perfect record of eliminations and never once had the police called him in for questioning. He would have been concerned when she hadn’t left with the first-class passengers, but then neither had the other celebrity, Chad Tyler. They must have decided to wait until the plane had cleared out.

  He grew a bit restless as the gate area filled with the annoying singing choir students, but soon enough they had cleared the area and made their noisome way to customs. He surged with the reporters as Chad Tyler entered, but didn’t follow the mob when they left the gate. Instead, he sat and waited for the plane’s final passenger. It wasn’t until the flight attendants closed the gate that he realized he had somehow let her escape. He called his backup guy watching the rental car line. She hadn’t claimed her car yet. He still had time to find her.

  With his fake New Zealand passport, he breezed through customs and joined the even larger group of reporters waiting outside. Again, he studied the people as they slowly made their way through. If only he had the list of people entering the country, but that would take days to obtain.

  He had to suffer through the singing choir group again, wishing that someone would pay him to eliminate the whole lot of the annoying little cretins.

  The jarring ring of his cell phone interrupted his thoughts. There was a single woman, blonde, in her early forties, standing in the car rental line. The man shook his head in disgust. He didn’t know how he had missed her, but fortunately, his careful planning had compensated for the slip.

  She was still in line when he arrived. He now understood why he hadn’t recognized her. The dust jacket picture was obviously a glamor shot from many years prior. Yet the faint hint of past beauty still resided beneath the double chins and loose skin. As she approached the counter, his assistant, dressed as a janitor, moved in closer to verify they had the right woman. He watched as the man looked at his watch, picked up his broom and left. He smiled. That was the signal he wanted.

  Chapter Four

  By the time Chad arrived at the Auckland Hilton he was exhausted, and Davis was in worse condition. His ill-tempered assistant reamed a porter for bumping the luggage against the frame of the elevator door.

  “For God’s sake, your luggage has been through an airport. This fellow can’t do it any more harm.”

  Davis knew better than to argue, but Chad noticed he wrote the boy’s name down on a piece of paper. No doubt he would call and complain to the manager. Chad looked at the porter. The young fellow’s eyes glowed with admiration.

  When they entered their suite, Chad gave the boy a tip, certain Davis would not.

  Once the boy left, his assistant spoke. “They don’t tip here. It’s an insult to do so.”

  “The boy didn’t seem insulted. Which reminds me, please do not call the manager and complain about the mishandling of your luggage.”

  “He should have been more careful.”

  “I don’t care. You are my employee and what you do reflects on me. They will think you’re calling in my name, and I don’t want a reputation as a prima donna who complains all the time.”

  “Primo uomo,” Davis corrected him and rolled his eyes as if everyone but Chad knew the name for a male prima donna. “I will make it clear I am complaining on my own behalf.”

  “You aren’t listening. I don’t want you calling at all. If you’re going to be my assistant, you have to develop a nicer front towards people. And if you can’t do that, then I can’t afford to have you on staff.”

  “You’re firing me?” Davis exclaimed.

  Chad sighed and collapsed on his bed. “No. I’m not firing you. I’m telling you to lighten up. You take everything so seriously.”

  “Fine, then. Do you want to go over tomorrow’s schedule?”

  “No. I want to take a hot shower and relax.”

  “What time do you want to be woken?”

  “When do we need to leave here?”

  “Eight-thirty.”

  “Then wake me up at eight.”

  After his shower, he lay on the bed and tried to sleep, but Carla’s face kept him awake. Who was she? How could she be so famous and he not know her? And how could she be so isolated from the world not to know him? He ran through all the famous singers. He couldn’t imagine any of them looking as lovely as Carla without their makeup.

  Chapter Five

  The students were more than willing to sneak Carla onto their bus. It was an excellent trick on the chaperones to add another choir member.

  Carla was happy to join them for the bus ride. Since their destination was close to Lake Taupo, it saved her hiring a rental at the airport. She could rent a car in Whakapapa and arrive at her YHA within an hour. She smiled at her cleverness. None of the press would be able to follow this trail.

  One of the chaperones stared at her, but as soon as the girls insisted she join them in their seat, he relaxed. There were over a hundred students. Surely he didn’t know them all.

  Her new best bud, Claire, leaned closer and whispered, “If anyone asks, you’re a substitute for Janie Carrington. She got laryngitis this week and couldn’t come.”

  “Thanks,” Carla replied, appreciating the girl’s help. Claire had convinced the others to help sneak Carla onto the bus.

  The singing group traveled in three buses, each filled with melodies, as they made their way through the cities and out into the farmland of New Zealand. Carla was singing harmony to Claire when a hand rested firmly on her shoulder. Both stopped singing as she looked up into the stern face of the chaperone who had been staring at her before.

  “You have a lovely voice,” he said.

  “Thank you,” she replied, wondering if this had been a good idea after all. If they dumped her and her luggage out in the middle of nowhere, it would be a long walk to anywhere.

  “I don’t recall hearing it before. I’m sometimes a bit slow on a name, but never a voice.”

  “I’m substituting for Janie Carrington.”

  He considered this for a moment. “Alto—laryngitis. And what is your name?”

  “Carla Carrington.” Janie just got a sister, whether she wanted one or not.

  “I don’t recall approving a substitute, and you didn’t attend any rehearsals.”

  “She sounds really good,” Claire said with a plea in her voice.

  “I agree she has a lovely voice. But this is a competition. It’s very important everyone knows their part.”

  “She knows her part.”

  He sat down in the seat next to theirs. “Let’s hear it.”

  Carla almost choked. “You want me to sing?”

  “Yes. Both songs from beginning to
end.”

  “By myself?” Carla asked in a panic. She had no clue what the two songs were.

  “Is there a problem with that?”

  “I can’t sing by myself. I get too nervous.” She ducked her head in what she hoped was the appearance of acute shyness.

  “Very well,” he said, looking at the students around him. “We’ll make a small choir.” He pointed at various students. “On my count, we’ll start with Bach Choral 46. One-and-a-two and…”

  Listening very carefully to Claire, she followed along with only one small error. The second song was less familiar to her, but again, by pacing slightly behind Claire, she was able to get through tolerably well.

  When they finished, the director didn’t speak for several moments as he stared at his hands. Finally, he sighed. “I don’t know. You’re very tentative, which is a shame because you do have a lovely voice. There are only two days until the competition. I’m not sure you’ll be ready.”

  She stared at her hands and nodded. All she wanted was to get to the town and not be tossed out on the road. She wasn’t really concerned about the concert.

  Once he left, the girls burst into nervous giggles. “God, I thought I would die. I can’t believe that just happened. How did you know what to sing?” Claire asked.

  “I didn’t. I was following your lead. Didn’t you notice I was lagging? The director certainly did.”

  Claire dug through her backpack. “Here’s the music. You’d better study it.”

  “Why? I’m not actually going to sing in the competition. I’ll get a car and disappear when we get to Whakapapa.”

  Claire’s eyes grew round with fear. “You can’t leave. If you do, Dr. Wilson will think you’re missing and call in the police. Then they’ll find out what we’ve done, and he’ll kick us all out of choir. The man has no sense of humor!”

  “But I can’t stay.”

  “You have to,” Claire said, with Betsy and Jodie nodding in agreement.

  Carla took the proffered music. She really didn’t want to get the girls in trouble. Tomorrow, after a good night’s sleep, she would figure a way out of this.

  For the next two hours, she set the words and notes to memory. When the bus arrived in Whakapapa they were herded like sheep directly from the bus into their hotel rooms by sharp-eyed chaperones. She shared a bed with Claire since she doubted they still had one assigned for her ersatz sister Janie Carrington.

  Claire stayed up half the night telling her all about her troubles with her parents and her disappointment with a boy named Scott. Listening to the girl’s romantic chatter brought Chad Tyler to Carla’s mind.

  “Do you know who Chad Tyler is?”

  “Of course! He’s the quarterback for the Cowboys and sooooooo cute. He was on our plane—didn’t you see him? You were standing right by him!”

  “I saw him. I just didn’t know who he was.”

  “He’s the best quarterback in the whole world. And he’s single.”

  “He’s gay,” murmured Betsy from her bed.

  “He is not!” cried Claire.

  “Is too. My brother told me,” Betsy replied.

  “Your brother is a dickhead.”

  “Claire!” Carla scolded.

  “That’s all right. My brother is a dickhead,” Betsy admitted. “But there is a rumor Chad’s gay.”

  “He dates all the time.”

  “Because he’s gay and he wants to keep it a secret.”

  Claire sighed. “Good night, Betsy.” Then she mouthed to Carla, “He’s not gay.”

  Remembering how he’d looked at her and touched her, Carla agreed. She closed her eyes. Odd that he turned out to be a quarterback for the Cowboys. Her latest book, the one she couldn’t finish, was about a quarterback named Jeremiah Taylor who played for the Texas Cowboys.

  Chapter Six

  Morning came much too soon and everyone was marched down to a buffet breakfast. Carla was thinking about how to escape the group when the firm hand of Dr. Wilson landed on her shoulder. “I want to see you in the music room in five minutes.”

  Carla nearly choked on her toast. Swallowing some water, she nodded her agreement. As soon as he’d left, she looked at the door, longing to break and run.

  “You have to go,” whispered Claire. “You can’t bail on us. You’ll get us all expelled.”

  “But I can’t stay with you guys forever. We might as well come clean about it now.”

  “Please don’t. My parents saved all year so I could take this trip. Don’t tell him yet.”

  Carla placed her hand on the girl’s. “I’ll try to figure out a way to extract myself without your involvement.”

  ***

  When Carla entered the music room, it was empty. She sat down at the piano and tried to play away her tension. How the hell had she gotten herself into this situation?

  “Very pretty,” Dr. Wilson said as he approached. “I don’t recognize it. Sounds a bit like Beethoven but not quite.”

  “It’s mine. I wrote it when I was eight or nine.”

  “A prodigy, then?”

  Carla grimaced. “Hardly.”

  He leaned on the piano and stared at her. “So you’re a piano major. May I ask why you aren’t a double major in piano and voice?”

  “I’m not a music major.”

  “What are you?”

  “Nervous, wondering why I’ve been called in to see you.”

  Dr. Wilson almost smiled, something she suspected was difficult for him to do. “No need to be nervous. I wanted to get you up to speed so I can allow you to sing with the choir.” He opened the music and placed it on the piano stand. “You need to learn the words instead of mimicking Claire.” Motioning for her to move over so he could share the piano bench, he sat down and began to play.

  Dr. Wilson’s eyes rounded when she entered on key. The introduction gave no hint of the alto’s first chord. Claire had mentioned he had spent almost a month of torture getting everyone consistently accurate on their first note. When she finished the piece, he stared at her as if she were an alien from another planet. “Good. Let’s try it without the visual aids. Stand there where I can see you.”

  Carla rose, stood at the side of the piano facing the director and sang the song.

  They moved on to the second song, which she also sang without a stumble.

  He stared at his hands for several moments and then looked up at Carla. “Are you playing with me, young lady?”

  Carla gulped. “What do you mean?”

  “Last night you didn’t know this music at all, and today you sing it perfectly.”

  “I was a little nervous last night.”

  “Last night you didn’t know the music,” he restated.

  Carla sighed. She saw no way out but the truth. “You’re right. I didn’t. I convinced Claire and Betsy that I was a last-minute substitute, but I wasn’t. I lied to them, and I lied to you.”

  “How did you get on the plane?”

  “I bought a ticket.”

  Dr. Wilson removed his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. “You came on your own?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re older than twenty-one?”

  She chuckled. “Yes.”

  “So I’m not responsible for your actions.”

  “No.” Carla was unable to repress a smile. God forbid the poor humorless man should be responsible for her.

  “To be eligible for the competition you have to be enrolled at Columbia University. Are you?”

  “Does a correspondence class count?”

  “Yes.”

  Carla smiled. “Then I’m enrolled.”

  Dr. Wilson stared at her. “I’m afraid to ask, but I will anyway. What class are you taking?”

  “Java programming.”

  “What?”

  “It’s a computer programming class.”

  “You’re a computer programmer?” Dr. Wilson stared at her in horror. “What studies have you taken in music?”

&nb
sp; “In high school I—”

  “In college!” he snapped.

  “None.”

  “Why not?”

  Carla shrugged. “I never thought I was good enough.”

  Dr. Wilson shook his head. “I don’t buy that for a moment.” He struck a note on the piano. “Don’t look at the keys. What note did I just play?”

  “F.”

  He struck another note, and another, each time Carla calling out the correct answer. “Sing me F, G, A, D.”

  Carla did as he instructed.

  “You have perfect pitch, both in recognition and recall.”

  Carla shrugged. “Parlor tricks.”

  “It’s far more than parlor tricks. It’s a foundation for everything. I can teach breath control, vocal support, and projection, but I cannot teach perfect pitch. You either have it or you learn to work with a weaker foundation.” He stared at her for a few moments. “Here’s the deal. You can remain with the group and sing in tomorrow’s competition. However, I want your word that when we return, you will submit your application as a music major at Columbia.”

  “I’ve really let this get out of hand. Perhaps it would be better if I just left now.”

  “You can do that, of course, but if you do, then I will send Claire, Betsy, and Jodie home for their part in this little game.”

  “No! I told you they didn’t know. I lied to them, just as I lied to you.”

  He shrugged.

  “Why would you punish them for my actions?”

  Still he didn’t reply.

  “You really think you could teach me to sing?”

  “You already can sing.”

  “To sing well enough to do it professionally.”

  “I’ve taught people with far less talent,” he murmured.

  She sat down beside him on the bench. “It’s a timely offer. I came to New Zealand to rebalance my life and figure out my future. I’ve always loved music, but I never thought I was good enough. But if you think it’s a possibility, I’m willing to try.”