Mr. Match (Mister #5)

by JA Huss

  She was not there to receive gifts.

  She was the gift.

  The promise.

  The glue that would seal these two opposite sides of the family together for another generation.

  “Gori cut my throat that night with the scalpel. It was supposed to be a symbol of the Silver Society. One thin, silver line across my neck. Done in good faith. I wasn’t supposed to fight. They didn’t think I had it in me to fight, I was such an agreeable child.”

  “He’s Silver Society?” Victoria asks, her lips turned up with what might be disgust. Or maybe disbelief.

  “No,” I say. “Not really. If you know anything about them, then you know it’s run by women.”

  “So who’s the leader?” Victoria and Ariel ask at the same time.

  “I don’t know,” I say. “There were no women there that night. Just the men.”

  “Then what good are you?” Ariel asks. “We need to know who runs it, Katya. Surely you must have an idea?”

  “Oh, I have an idea, all right.” And then I look right at Cindy. “But you’re not gonna want to hear it. Because I think it’s your future mother-in-law.”

  I take out my secret phone and press the call button.

  A direct private line to Mariel Hawthorne.

  Chapter Thirty-Seven - OLIVER

  Four hours later Weston Conrad really does look like someone shot him in the head. I went home and got him one of my suits, just to make him look more the Mister part, and he’s just putting the jacket on now and admiring himself in the mirror.

  A knock at the door makes us all turn and look. Sparrow enters, her long dark hair the perfect contrast to her bright blue eyes, which are wide in astonishment. “Wow.” She laughs. “If those judges are going for gore, then you’re definitely gonna win, Mr. Conrad.”

  We all smile at each other. He does look pretty fucking dead when he closes his eyes. The make-up artist even made his lips slightly blue and his skin an ashen gray.

  “I wish you didn’t have to leave,” Sparrow says. “I could use another actor for the house tonight. It’s crazy. We have a line two blocks down the street and my chainsaw guy called in sick with the flu.”

  “Sorry,” I say to Sparrow, going to the door to let her know we need some privacy. “But maybe tomorrow, if West feels like getting made up again. Hey,” I say, thinking of something we forgot to plan. “West wants a picture. Do you think we can borrow some blood and gore to take a realistic picture?”

  “Sure,” Sparrow says enthusiastically. “You know what?” she continues, looking at West, who is fixing his black tie. “I can get one of my set designers to help you with that if you want. Is this part of the contest?”

  “Yup,” Pax says, joining in. “There’s two contests. One live and one picture.”

  “I’d be happy to help you, Weston. Just come downstairs when you’re done and I’ll get it set up.” She leaves and I close the door behind her.

  We all grin at each other. Then start laughing.

  “This is gonna work,” Pax says.

  “It better,” West says, cringing at himself in the mirror. “That fucker had better come clean with everything he knows.”

  “Don’t count on it,” Nolan says. “I mean, we should not get cocky here. We’re totally bullshitting him. And he’s not stupid. He’s gonna have lots of questions.”

  “Hey,” Mac says. “As long as we get it on TV before Pax calls him, I think we’ll be fine.”

  “I think so too,” I say. “OK, you guys finish up the photo. Get lots of them, and make sure you splatter the wall with blood and bone to make it real. Pax and I will go get on the dark market and find ourselves a corrupt reporter.”

  “Shouldn’t be hard.” Pax laughs. “You know people are still dying to see us fall. They want us in jail. All we gotta do is implicate ourselves in some dirty shit. Everyone will happy to believe it.”

  But neither of us have ever done this before. So I’m not convinced. “Make sure you stay inside when you’re done, West. You can’t go home tonight.”

  “What?” he asks.

  “Come on,” I say. “You don’t really think that Liam isn’t in town? He is. He’s keeping an eye on us.”

  “Then he saw us come in here.”

  “Then he needs to see us all leave,” I say. “Give your clothes to some actor downstairs, West. They can leave with Nolan and Mac wearing your clothes, you stay behind. Just down the hall from here is a stairwell that leads to the basement. Stay there until we come get you.”

  “I’ll send Cindy over later with food and stuff, OK?” Pax says.

  “What are you gonna tell Victoria?” West asks.

  “Don’t worry,” I say, feeling his apprehension. He was probably picturing her seeing him dead on the TV tonight. “We’ll take care of everything else. You just play dead and stay out of sight until we get a meeting with Liam. I’ll come back and walk you guys over in a couple hours.”

  Pax and I leave, jogging down the same set of stairs I told West to use, but we exit on the ground floor. Sparrow was right. When we get outside there are hundreds of people lining up for the haunted house.

  We push our way through and head across to the street to my building. The door is locked when we get there, so I disarm the security system and let us in, then arm it again. We go up to my office and then go through the SCIF room ritual. Once we’re safely inside and everything is locked up tight behind us, I turn the server and computer on.

  “OK,” I say, cracking my knuckles. “One dark web reporter coming up.” I look over at Pax and we both wince.

  We really have no clue if this will work.

  One hour later we have an ad up in six marketplaces and three people have already replied.

  “I bet they’re all liars,” Pax says, rubbing his face like he’s stressed.

  “Well, we can’t know until we try, right?”

  I look at my watch. “I bet they have the picture. I’m gonna go get them and I’ll be back in like fifteen minutes.”

  I get up from my stool and Pax takes my place, grunting out his affirmative reply.

  When I get to the basement, Nolan, West, and Mac are eating Big City Burritos. West has cleaned all the makeup off his face and the TV is on, tuned to a cable news channel.

  “We might have some bites,” I say, entering so they can see me. “Did you get the picture?”

  Mac gets up holding his phone out and pulls them up for me to see.

  “Holy shit,” I say.

  “It’s pretty convincing, huh?” West asks.

  It is. It really is. His head looks like a hole has been blown through his brain. There’s even bits of fake skin and bone hanging over one eye and plastered on the wall behind him.

  “OK,” I say, looking at West. “Just sit tight. Where did you guys get the food?”

  “I went out,” Nolan says, his mouth full of burrito. “I got him water too.”

  “OK, well, let’s go. I think this shit is gonna happen pretty quick. You got an actor to play West?”

  “He’s upstairs. Some college kid playing usher tonight. We paid him two hundred bucks to change into West’s clothes and walk across the street with us.”

  “OK, let’s go.”

  We walk back up the stairs, find the actor near the vampire scene, and press two hundred dollars in his hand. “Just follow us,” I say. “When we get to my building across the street, you come in with us and then immediately go out the back and throw that shirt in the dumpster.”

  “I’ve got my uniform shirt on underneath it,” the kid says, pulling up the t-shirt West was wearing earlier.

  “Perfect,” I say. “Let’s go.”

  All that goes off without a hitch and Mac, Nolan, and I end up in the SCIF room a few minutes later, where Pax is laughing up at the TV mounted on the wall as he types.

  “What’s going on?” Mac asks.

  “These assholes are so fucking greedy,” Pax says.

  “How much do they wan
t?” Nolan asks. “What’s a fair price for this kind of thing?”

  “Why are you looking at me?” I ask, slightly offended. “This is not my website.”

  “I’m just fucking asking, dude. Don’t be a bitch.”

  “Thirty grand,” Pax says. “This one wants forty-five.”

  “Which one should we choose?” I ask.

  “Forty-five fucking grand?” Mac says.

  “Who cares about the price,” I say.

  “No, dude. We gotta haggle,” Pax says. “Otherwise we won’t be taken seriously. I’m making them prove they really work for the networks they say they do.”

  “How?” I ask.

  “This guy,” Pax says, pointing to a conversation. “He’s gotta fuck up someone’s mic on live TV. This one is gonna flash the wrong background on the weather report. And this one is gonna have the anchor say some code word I gave him. If he can pull that one off, we’re going with him.”

  He’s silent for a few minutes as he types. “OK,” he finally says. “This guy says in the next thirty seconds the live reporter will use the word mysterious.”

  We all go silent as Pax turns up the volume.

  And yup. Sure enough, that good-looking guy on TV—that upstanding looking citizen who is supposed to report facts and follow a code of ethics that goes back hundreds of years—says our boy’s name.

  Pax puts up his hand for a high-five and Nolan gives it back. “Gimme the photos,” he says, refocusing back to the computer. “I’ve already bought fifty thousand dollars in bitcoin. We’re going in, men. Better hold on tight.”

  Twenty minutes later that reporter and his associate have a news story people didn’t know they wanted, but won’t be able to take their eyes off.

  Mr. Corporate dead from assassination-style killing in Fort Collins, Colorado.

  Pax whoops as he stands. “That’s how it’s done, girls. Now let me the fuck out of here, Match. I’ve got a phone call to make.”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight - KATYA

  “So where is she?” Victoria asks. She and Ariel are not taking the news about Mariel very well. Cindy looks pale at the mention of Paxton’s mother’s name. Ellie and Ivy are taking it better, but they aren’t as invested in her as the rest of them. Ariel is, because she’s Cindy’s sister. And Cindy is, because she’s probably gonna marry that Mysterious man.

  “She’ll be here,” I say. “She said she was at the airport. And that’s kinda far away, right?”

  My phone buzzes in my hand and we all jump.

  “Shit,” Ariel says, I think slightly embarrassed by her reaction.

  “This is her,” I say. “She’s in the parking lot.”

  “Come on,” Ariel says. “I’ll open the door for you.”

  We make our way back through the construction zone of the would-be shooting range, and sure enough, hidden in the shadows of the awning over the door is a woman in a white cloak.

  My throat tightens up and my stomach sinks when I associate Mariel with the white dress my sister was wearing this morning.

  Jesus Christ, what time is it? I look down at my phone and realize I’ve been here all afternoon and it’s dinnertime now.

  Ariel messes with the security system and then unlocks the door.

  “I don’t know what is happening in this town tonight, but it’s insane,” Mariel says, throwing her hood back once she’s inside and Ariel is locking us back in.

  “My cousin has a haunted house at the theater across the street.” And then Ariel looks at Mariel and frowns. “You left us hanging.”

  “I did not. I delivered your sister, safe and sound. Paxton took care of her and everything is fine now.”

  “Fine?” Ariel says. “Are you kidding me? Nothing is fine. We’re locked up in here because we feel we’re under attack.”

  Mariel looks around, making a face at all the dust and the thick plastic construction curtain as Ariel pushes it aside and walks through to the hallway.

  “Well, you are under attack, Miss Shrike. But I’m not understanding why you’re surprised about that.”

  Ariel whirls around and grabs Mariel by her arm. “Are you Silver Society?” Her eyes are blazing with anger. “Did you set us up?”

  “What?” Mariel laughs.

  “The Russian princess seems to think you’re the head of it.”

  Mariel smiles at me. “Hello again, Katya.”

  “Hi, Mariel.”

  “How are you?” she asks, her voice sweet and soothing.

  I shake my head and let out a long breath. “I need you to make good on that promise. I’ve done everything you said. You’re here. They’re here. Now you have to help me with my sister.”

  “You set us up,” Ariel says again, only this time it’s not a question.

  Mariel’s soft expression for me turns icy cold the instant she redirects her attention to Ariel. “Do you really think I’d set up my own son, Miss Shrike? Please. I’ve been fighting his initiation into the Silver Society his entire life. I’ve had this planned out before he was born. Before I was even pregnant with him. Do you really think I’d let a loser like Charlie Vance get me pregnant if I was the leader of the Silver Society?”

  “Um,” Ariel says, confused at the turn of the conversation. “I guess not?”

  “You guess not?” Mariel laughs. I enjoy Ariel being put in her place for once. She’s kinda overpowering. “I’m here to save you because I want to save my son. So lead me to the others and no more stupid questions until I’ve had my say.”

  I give Ariel a shrug when she looks at me. But she says nothing else. Just continues down the hall and leads us to the other girls.

  “Finally,” Mariel says, letting her long white coat drop down her shoulders. She hands it to Ivy, ever the polite hostess, and then sinks into a chair at the dingy round table covered in dust. “I hope you all have a few hours,” Mariel says, looking at each of us in turn. “Because this story is complicated and long.”

  We look at each other nervously, but eventually every head is nodding the affirmative. We’re ready.

  “The Silver Society,” Mariel starts, “was first conceptualized in 1909. It was a small group of high society people with ambitious aspirations for the world. A United States congressman, a high-profile lawyer, a distinguished scientist, an entrepreneurial millionaire, and the president of the New York Stock Exchange were among the group’s founding members.”

  “I thought the Silver Society were all women? Women did all this back then?” Cindy asks.

  “No,” Mariel says, looking at her with a small smile. “The Society was men at first. But there were…” she pauses for a moment. Like she’s trying to choose her words carefully. “Extenuating circumstances that first year. An accident that killed six people. These six people, to be exact. But the wives were invested in their husbands and they carried on.”

  “Wow,” Ellie says.

  “Then what?” Ariel asks, ever impatient to get to the point.

  “That was the start. These women took on the newly formed Silver Society and made it their own. But it was a man’s world back then. So they could only invite other women in.”

  “So how did they get anything done?” Ivy asks. “I mean, if they didn’t have any real power? How did they get so strong? And last so long?”

  “They got new husbands,” I say in a low voice.

  Mariel smiles at me. Another warm and comforting smile. Everything about that smile makes me feel better. I trust her. I do. The only reason I’m still here fighting is because of Mariel Hawthorne. “Yes. They remarried and restarted. All prominent men, just like their first husbands. You see, that is the whole point, ladies. The Silver Society is made up of women on the inside, but men on the outside.”

  We all sit still thinking about this for a few seconds.

  “The ladies are carefully chosen from Ivy League schools at the start of senior year. And those ladies are initiated based on their choice of future husband.”

  “So the women have
to bring a man in with them. Like partners,” Tori says.

  “Exactly,” Mariel replies.

  “And the men are all well-bred racehorses,” Ivy continues.

  “Very well-bred,” Mariel adds. “Very well-educated. From very wealthy and prominent families.”

  “Like Nolan,” Ivy finishes.

  “And Mac?” Ellie asks. “But how do we fit in, Mariel? Ivy is well-educated, but not wealthy. And I’m not really either of those things. I went to a small liberal arts college.

  “This is where are our problem starts,” Mariel says. She takes a deep breath and exhales. “The Misters were set up by the Silver Society and I’m afraid it’s all my fault.”

  “They wanted Paxton,” Cindy says. “They wanted you,” she corrects herself. “And you got out somehow. You got pregnant with Charlie Vance’s child so they wouldn’t want you. Is that what happened?”

  “That’s how it started. I was tapped in senior year to be one of the lucky ladies. To Pledge Silver, as they call it. But I had been warned by another woman, whom I had known during my formative years at boarding school.” Mariel looks at Ivy. “It was Nolan’s mother. She was on track to marry into the Delaney family but she had gotten word about these Silver people from someone else and we both refused. I got pregnant and she told the Delaney’s all about her invitation. They took care of it from there.”

  “Good God,” Ellie says. “Please tell me that the reason Mac’s parents are dead—“

  “I’m afraid so, my dear,” Mariel says in her mothering way.

  “This is all about you guys not joining? They set up your children?” Ivy asks.

  “Wait,” Ariel says. “Just hold on. Oliver doesn’t come from anything like this, Mariel. Our parents don’t fit this selection process. I mean, they went to college, but it was local. And we have money, but we build bikes, for fuck’s sake. And have a tattoo shop.”

  “They were never after Oliver, Ariel. Think, girl. Who would they want?”

  “Five,” Cindy whispers. “They wanted Five, not Rory.”

  “Yes,” Mariel says. “Your sister was a victim because they wanted the Aston family in the Society. Rory was a way to get that.”