He gave her a sly look. “Penny for your thoughts.” Like he’d noted her change in mood.
“My thoughts are that you pretty much left your chivalry behind during our tickling episode. You should’ve stopped when I told you to stop. When I was like, don’t.“
“But we were about to have so very much fun. A sense of chivalry has no place in foreplay. I should think you’d agree with me there.”
“Look, I’m just telling you that it’s an obvious, important rule that you need to keep in mind going forward in this place. You always stop what you’re doing when a woman says don’t, or No. Even if it’s just tickling.”
He shifted the car into a new gear. Said nothing.
She pointed to the road. “Go east here. We want to pick up I-35 North.” He put on his blinker. “So, did you not get that I was pretty serious about wanting you to stop?”
He smiled merrily.
“I was serious.” She straightened up. “You can’t tickle me like that ever again, got it? And FYI, the No thing is just one of those rules. No in all its forms, got it? No means no.”
“Yes, I heard your pathetic and bourgeois little rule the first time.”
“What?”
“Of course one doesn’t want to be a cad, but please.” He searched her face, like he was analyzing something about her, then looked back at the road. “No belongs to all the people who spend their days like domesticated animals, consuming, procreating, earning a living so that more consumption might occur, but you and I, we’ve signed on for the extremes. We test boundaries. We seek thrills. We shove our hands into the bloody beating heart of horror, we swim in the shimmering waters. The basest of urges, the most secret of plans, those are the things that are ours. If No meant No, I wouldn’t have unlocked those cuffs. We wouldn’t be racing down this highway, you in that seat, wondering what the devil you’ve gotten yourself into.” The sun bathed his face, making the brown stubble on his cheeks shimmer. “Do you know what sagebrush smells like after you’ve been locked in an airtight railcar for ten days?” he suddenly asked.
She gazed at him, baffled.
“I know exactly what it smells like. What it is to fill your lungs with it. That is mine. And I know exactly how electric blue the sky can appear to be, after they take off the blindfold and let you walk away from the wall you were to be shot to death against moments before. That is mine.” He turned to her. “I used a dull serrated knife to cut off the thumbs of my worst enemy, did you know that?”
“What?”
“I did. And I fed both thumbs to crows, just outside his prison bars, and made him watch. Do you know what a man’s face looks like as he watches crows fight over his severed thumbs? I do. That is mine. You don’t like the tickling. Well, I recall a pause in our tickling session where you rather ensnared my tongue. You were sucking so hard, I daresay, I may have lost a few taste buds in the exchange. You wanted a man who had just been tickling you to the excruciating limit to fuck you, not because you liked the tickling—you hated it—but because every nerve ending stood taut and alive. You wanted to experience the other end of it. The deep end. Don’t disown it now. We’ve traveled a good way beyond No, my dear. And I say, good riddance. Give us Yes. Give us what is ours.”
Alix gaped at him, feeling strangely exhilarated. Yes, she wanted to say. Yes to everything, yes, yes, yes! And yet…was that where Sir Kendall’s Yes took him? Feeding thumbs to crows?
After a long silence, she said, “Well that’s not how it works here.”
He looked amused. “When in Rome? Is that what you’re telling me?”
“Yes. Exactly.”
“Fine. But you must do something for me. It’s high time you tell me everything you know.”
“Oh, not this again.”
“The situation has progressed to the point where we should be frank with each other. Don’t you think?”
“Sir Kendall—Nick—I’m going to tell you everything, but not right now.” She’d be careful this time. She’d think things through. Talk with Karen.
He frowned.
She watched the road, feeling so sad for him. He thought he’d lived this whole amazing life. All those things he’d just said, how could she tell him that none of those things he’d just listed were his? He thought he’d cut off a man’s thumbs, walked free after standing before a shooting squad—he thought those memories made him who he was. What would happen when he found out they were false? That he was barely a step up from Mr. Whipple?
She was used to people disrespecting her. He had further to fall.
Maybe they could find some sort of hobby or passion for him, something for him to latch on to when his reality crumbled. She turned the radio to a Metallica song, and still he said nothing, though she was aware of his eyes on her; she could practically feel the gears in his mind working, thinking, puzzling.
She wondered what Paul was doing. She planned for her and Sir Kendall to stay the night at her folks’ place and drive back midday. If Paul left as he’d promised, she’d never see him again. The thought depressed her more than she’d thought it would.
“I’m asking you to trust me, Nick. I’m doing what’s best for you.”
“In my experience, more knowledge is always better than less. Unless you’re considering me your enemy.”
She sighed. “I’m on your side. More than you can possibly imagine.” She searched her purse for her lip balm.
“The longer you wait, the more dangerous things will become,” he said. “Paul and the men due to arrive…”
“Paul will not be a problem after tomorrow.”
“Why not?”
“He’s leaving.”
This got Sir Kendall’s attention. “You’re certain of that?”
“Yeah. He promised.”
“Where’s he going?”
“I don’t know, and I don’t care,” she said. Though she did. Very much.
Sir Kendall raised a suspicious eyebrow. He sensed the lie.
“Don’t worry, okay? I’m handling it.”
“That one statement makes you either stupid or a liar. Don’t try to control a game when you don’t know the rules. It’s one of the quickest ways to die.”
She looked out the side window, feeling so sad and frustrated.
“Twin Cities then?” he asked.
“Yeah. We have that anniversary party.”
“You understand that’s the first place they’ll look for you.”
“Trust me, the only danger there will be from excruciating boredom,” she said. “Here’s the most important thing you have to understand. I’m not like, a secret agent or a spy or something. I know that you have that impression, but I’m a normal girl trying to fix up that old house.”
“Got it,” he said.
“No, I’m serious. You think I’m involved in this whole Denali spy plot, and I know that some of my words and actions may have contributed to that impression, but I was playing around and being irresponsible. It was wrong of me. I’m really nobody.”
“I’m an international financier,” he said.
“I’m not talking about covers. I’m a regular person taking you to a regular party.”
“I understand,” he said.
“No, you don’t.” She sighed and sat back. “You don’t.” This party would be good for him—he would meet everyday people who would feed him and be kind to him. See an everyday home.
“Whose party is it really?”
“My parents.”
“Your actual parents.”
“They’re my actual parents, yes.”
Sir Kendall let out a hearty laugh.
“And we’re going to stay overnight there and drive back after lunch tomorrow. And you’ll be able to meet my friend, Karen, too.”
Sir Kendall stiffened. “You’ve told Karen where you’ll be?”
Did he think Karen was part of the spy conspiracy? “She’s my best friend, and a normal girl like me. So, are you interested in finance? Is that the job y
ou would have if you weren’t a spy? Do you have any hobbies?”
“A man like me doesn’t have hobbies,” he said. “As for employment, I’ve posed as an international financier on numerous occasions.”
“So you know a lot about finance?”
“Enough,” he said. “Though a bloody shirt front will hardly impress.”
“Yeah, we need to stop off for clothes. I need a gift, too.”
“I’ll need shells.”
Shells? “What, is that some English anniversary custom? To give shells?”
He laughed, as if what she’d just said was uproariously funny. “Very good.”
It took her a moment to get what he was laughing at: shells meant bullets. “Hold on! No way! You’re not bringing a loaded gun to my parents’ thirty-third anniversary party.”
He looked at her strangely. “My gun is always loaded and I always have it. I simply require extra rounds.”
“If you already have a loaded gun, what do you need more bullets for?”
“My dear, if one needs six shots, one is always better off with fifty.”
“You can’t bring it. That’s final.”
He focused calmly, even pleasantly, on the road. “You’re so sure the clone will leave?”
“He’d better.”
The sun hit the lower part of Sir Kendall’s face, and she noticed, with some surprise that his lip had shrunk back to its normal size and was no longer split. There was just a faint line there, a shade darker than his lips. Was it healing unnaturally fast? Yes. Just a few hours ago, his lip had been quite dramatically split.
“I’d hate to think my clone is going off somewhere to impersonate me,” he said.
“I guarantee you Paul’s not going off pretending to be you.”
“Well he wouldn’t get very far with it, would he? With that accent. Not to mention his lack of impulse control. He jumped a man with a gun pointed at him. He’s lucky he’s not dead.”
She shuddered. He had done that.
“Even if the clone wasn’t low-functioning, Hyko really is rather a fool if he imagines even a perfect clone could replace me. Replacing me with a clone would trigger events that would destroy Hyko and everything he’s built.”
“Hyko?”
He smiled. “Please. I hardly need your confirmation.”
Hyko? This was getting too weird.
He put on his blinker. “And there is nothing I can’t—or won’t—uncover.”
“Where are we going?”
A large truck stop, as it turned out. Sir Kendall pulled a scarf from the back seat and arranged it over his bloody shirt. He got out.
“Wait,” she said. “Buy me a Kit-Kat, okay?”
He gave her an uncertain look and went in.
She pulled out her phone and called home. They’d been gone maybe twenty minutes—surely Paul was still there. He had a burger, a football game, and slashed tires.
“I know you’re there,” she said into her machine, hoping desperately that he was. “Pick up.”
“Alix! Where are you? Let me come get you!”
She assured him they’d be back tomorrow afternoon and reminded him to be waiting on the porch at eleven fifty-three and leave as soon as his stuff came. And then she gave him feeding instructions for Lindy.
“Alix, I won’t handcuff anyone, I won’t hurt anyone, I promise. Just tell me where you are.”
Alix winced as she pictured the anniversary invitation stuck up on her refrigerator. A flat tire wouldn’t stop a man like Paul.
“Paul, your stuff is going to appear in the driveway, and you’ll see I’m telling the truth. I think when you see, you’ll understand why I feel responsible for Sir Kendall and for integrating him into normal society. Because I messed him up by bringing him here. It’s not how I wanted things…” Across the way the door opened. Sir Kendall. “Shit. Gotta go.”
“Wait! Alix…”
She waited. Why was she obeying him? What did she want from him?
“You deserve better,” he said. “You are an amazing, bright, beautiful woman who is worth more than this.
Her insides felt all twisted up. Tear clotted her eyes.
“You deserve better than him,” Paul repeated. “So much better.”
Sir Kendall squeezed between a truck and a car at the other end of the oasis, discreetly surveying the other travelers.
She’d made a vow to him. He was her responsibility. Was she stupid to think that? She wished she was a better person. A smarter person. She shut her eyes. “Paul, thanks. Really. I’m sorry. I hope that stuff will at least be helpful to you. I really do. I’m sorry,” she whispered.
She clicked off and turned off the phone.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
“Here’s the bottom line—nobody will be carrying weapons of any kind into this party.” They were back on the road, just thirty minutes from the Twin Cities.
Sir Kendall turned to her. Was he amused? “You believe you can guarantee that?”
“Absolutely,” she said. He watched her face, closely, as he sometimes did. “The minute you walk in there, Sir Kendall, it will be so obvious to you. It would be laughable that you would bring a knife or gun or any weapon whatsoever.”
“Laughable?”
“Yes, and look, you can tell when people are carrying, right?”
“I know that you aren’t carrying, Alix.”
“Of course I’m not. And if you come to believe that anybody at this party is armed with anything beyond a three-bean casserole, I will personally run out to the car and retrieve your gun for you.”
“My dear, when one decides he needs a gun, one typically needs the gun in the moment.“ He contemplated the road. “But I’ll humor you. I imagine that the standard American domicile holds a good number of items that can be used as weaponry.”
It was so weird how he could navigate this guns-and-danger side of the world so easily, but he didn’t even know who Metallica was; he’d seemed surprised she knew the words to a song on the radio at all. It was as if he liked the concept of music and books but didn’t know music or books. Because he was from a commercial, she supposed.
They stopped at a liquor store—Sir Kendall wanted to bring a bottle of Denali. After that, they went to a downtown St. Paul department store. He wanted to buy a tuxedo for the party, but she talked him out of it. His second choice was the most expensive black dinner jacket and slacks in the place, with a new white shirt to replace his bloody one. Alix waited outside the dressing room, and when he strolled out, she could barely breathe. She went up to him and smoothed back his hair. “You look like a movie star.”
He placed a finger under her chin. “At your pleasure, my lady.” He managed to say this in the dirtiest way.
She frowned and looked away. That talk used to turn her on. Now, it didn’t.
They went down to the women’s department to choose a dress for Alix. She was immediately taken with a swingy black, empire-waist dress with a sequin horse head outlined on the front. She loved its fun style and humor. It was sexy but not too bold for her parents’ set. She usually took glee in wearing something slutty to family occasions, but she was helping introduce Sir Kendall to the world; ruffling feathers wouldn’t help him. They would already hate that her hair was still pink.
Sir Kendall brought her a slinky white cocktail dress.
“That thing would look like it was poured over me. Like paint.”
“Precisely,” he whispered.
“Yeah. I don’t think so.”
She went into the dressing room with her horse dress. A few minutes later, Sir Kendall arrived with some shoes to go with it.
“How did you get in here?” She pulled him in and shut the door.
“You’re asking a man who’s infiltrated some of the highest security installations on the planet how he got into a women’s dressing room?” He kissed her.
She pulled away. She’d lost her appetite for Sir Kendall-spy sex. It wasn’t just the episode with the tickli
ng, it was the presence of Paul. His arrival made Sir Kendall sex seem unappetizing.
Even so, she’d made a vow to be Sir Kendall’s ally in life; she wouldn’t throw him over because of her crazy chemistry with Paul. She would keep her promises. She needed to be that new kind of person.
She touched his lip. “Wow.” Then she sat down to try on the shoes. “You can’t even tell it was split.”
“I heal quickly,” he said. “The vulnerabilities that might compromise other men only make me stronger.” Something in his voice caused him to raise his perfect, uninjured face. He suddenly seemed so lethal and capable. “Things at their worst redouble my resolve,” he added. “Best for my enemies to remember that.”
Hard things made him stronger, redoubled his resolve. She needed some of what he had, because at the moment, she wanted to throw over her responsibilities. She wanted Paul so badly it hurt. “How?”
He looked surprised. “How what?”
“How do you do it? Let hard things strengthen your resolve like that? Instead of weakening you?”
He looked amused. “By not denying the pain.” He brushed her hair from her forehead. “You allow yourself to feel it, but not be of it. To witness it, yet to be other than it. To not mind that it hurts.”
Alix wondered if she could ever do that. No doubt he wondered it too; he still looked amused.
“We need a gift now.” She pulled him out of the dressing room, past the scowls of the attendants, thinking about what he’d said. Is that what she had to do to be responsible? Just cut herself off from her feelings?
In the gallery section, she found a fabulous carved wood duck with a hole in his back where you could put a plant—perfect for the sun porch. Sir Kendall thought she was joking when she insisted this was the ideal anniversary gift. He even seemed a bit surprised by it.
But not quite so surprised as when they finally arrived at her parents’ modest little home in Minneapolis and strolled up the front walk, which bisected a postage-stamp-sized yard filled with lawn ornaments.
Sir Kendall stared at the small plaster statues of deer and geese and the mini wooden windmill.
“Lawn decorations,” she said. “Haven’t you ever seen lawn ornaments before?”
Mr. Real Page 15