Layla took over, pulling me around to give me the right view. “That guy right there,” she said with a tilt of her head. “See him? The one with the dark hair? Kind of good looking? He’s been staring at us in a really creepy way. I swear I can feel his eyeballs boring into me right now.”
I grinned. The creepy guy whose eyeballs were boring right into Layla was David Hofstetter. “Trust me, he’s okay.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. I know him. He’s a friend of my sister’s, that’s why he’s staring.”
She exhaled audibly. “Okay, if you’re vouching for him, that’s good enough for me. Okay, now I want you to check out two other men.”
“Where?”
“Don’t look around like that. It’s too obvious,” she said through gritted teeth. “It’s those two near the bar. When they went through the line they were announced as being father and son, but they don’t look at all alike. The father is small and puny, and the son is massive like he’s a wrestler or body builder. They don’t fit.”
I craned my neck to see. Sure enough, a gray-haired older gentleman with a mustache and goatee and glasses stood a head shorter than the guy who was supposed to be the son. The son, who didn’t look much older than me, had broad shoulders and a military haircut. It wasn’t that unusual for a father and son to look different. But the younger guy had a familiar look. Where had I seen him before? “Who are they?” I asked.
She shrugged. “The line moved so quickly I didn’t catch their names.”
“I’ve seen the son before, I think. I don’t know the father.”
“Maybe they’ve been in the news? Most of the people here are well known in their field. I just thought there was something not quite right about them.”
“No, not from the news…” I strained my mind trying to figure out where I’d seen this young guy. Another place, another time, a different context. And I had the feeling that something about him was different. Like watching a movie and trying to figure out where you’ve seen an actor before. The idea that I’d met him nagged at me, but I couldn’t pull up the specifics. I shook my head. “I can’t place him.”
When we got off the dance floor, Layla went to point the two out to one of the Secret Service agents, who nodded and said they’d keep watch. I stood back to give them space to talk. Jameson and Mallory, who’d followed us, watched curiously as Layla gave the agents the update. “What’s up?” Jameson asked.
“Layla’s just checking in with them.”
“Anything we should know about?” Jameson said.
He sounded so sincere that I almost told them, but no, Nadia had said not to trust them. I shrugged and said, “Nothing so far.”
Jameson took a step in that direction, trying to hear what Layla was saying. Mallory took this opportunity to sidle up to me. “Can you do me a favor, Russ?” Without waiting for me to answer, she grabbed my hand, pressed something into my palm and closed my fingers over it. She stood on her tiptoes and whispered into my ears. “Keep this for me and don’t give it back to me even if I ask for it. Can you do that for me?” I opened my hand to see an ivory rose on a chain—the necklace she’d gotten from Mrs. Whitehouse.
“Sure I can do that, but why—”
Mallory put a finger over my lips and shook her head. “No matter what I say, don’t give it to me. Promise?”
“Well, sure but—” I said, stopping when I saw the terrified look on her face.
“You have to promise me, Russ.” She stared up at me with big eyes.
“I promise.” I slipped the necklace into the inside pocket of my suit coat.
A second later, Layla returned, with Jameson right behind her, and said, “Okay, that’s set.” The four of us came together in a four leaf clover configuration. Anyone watching would think we were planning something.
“What was that all about?” Jameson asked, tipping his head in the direction of the agents.
“Just talking about my birthday,” she said nonchalantly. “People have been bringing gifts. I never keep them and now I have to write thank you notes.”
The air in the room seemed different to me now—more charged with electricity, more menacing. I saw the president and Mr. Bernstein making small talk with guests, every one of them a potential Associate. How quickly the room changed before my eyes. Was I getting paranoid, and if so, was that a bad thing? I opened and closed my hands, assuring myself that I had energy on hand and that at a moment’s notice I could shoot a bolt of electricity across the room, an idea that reassured me and terrified me at the same time.
As we walked away I felt a hand grip my shoulder. Startled, I wheeled around to get loose and reflexively I let out a zap of electricity. Just a small one, a flash of silver between my hand and the guy’s chest, but even that little bit was too much, because a nanosecond later I realized it was David Hofstetter and I’d nailed him a good one. The impact caused him to stagger and drop to his knees. “Dammit, Russ,” he said, clutching his chest.
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Nadia
I walked through the double doors into the Bash and was transported into another world. Somehow I’d thought the event would be like a wedding reception or a prom (both of which I’d only seen in movies and on TV), but this room, these people, surpassed anything I could have imagined. Ornate pillars, like Roman columns lined the long sides of the hall. Overhead, semi-sheer fabric draped in between crystal chandeliers supplying soft lighting, making the place look dreamy. Floor-to-ceiling curtains were held back by gold cords which were looped around the fabric multiple times ending in tassels as big as my fist. The men in tuxes and the women in their elegant gowns floated across the dance floor. I’d been sent back to one of Gatsby’s parties. It would be so easy to get lost in this piece of heaven and forget why I was here.
My first objective though was to find Russ. I’d thought it would be easy, that all I’d have to do was look across the room and I’d spot him, but I was short and couldn’t see past those standing in front of me. I looked for an empty chair, thinking I could get up on one, but every single one in sight was occupied. I weaved my way through the crowd, searching as I went. A waiter stopped to ask if I wanted a glass of champagne. I started to say no, then reconsidered and took a glass. “Thanks.” I hadn’t realized how thirsty I was until I took that first sip. The golden liquid went down smoothly. As I walked around, glass in hand, I recognized almost everybody. Actors, politicians, scientists, they all had a familiar look, which added to the feeling that I’d dreamed this whole thing. When I was done with the champagne, I set the empty glass on the edge of a deserted table and kept walking.
“Hey sweetheart, don’t you look beautiful.” I looked up to see a guy blocking my path and crazily enough it was Kyle Sternhagen, an actor I’d loved in a TV series years ago. When I was eleven and he played the teenage son on the show, I’d dreamed that someday we would meet and fall in love and get married. Seriously, Kyle and that show were the only things that got me through being eleven and that was before my face was damaged. I hadn’t seen him in any shows or movies since, and believe me, I watched for him, wanting another dose of my screen crush. I’d heard he was producing environmental documentaries, and I even watched one on Netflix, but there was no sign of him on the screen except in the credits at the end. As a young girl, I’d longed for him, and like a miracle, here he was saying I looked beautiful. My eleven-year-old self would have jumped with glee. His timing sucked. “Lady in red,” he said, “won’t you dance with me?”
“Oh I’d love to, but I can’t. Maybe another time.”
“Another time?” He threw his hands up in mock horror. “Am I being rejected?”
“No, it’s not that, it’s just I’m looking for a friend.” I gazed past him, searching for Russ. I’d settle for Mallory, Jameson, or Layla, since they were all supposed to be together.
“I could be your friend.” Kyle grinned and he leaned so close I could smell the liquor on his breath.
&
nbsp; I should have turned my back to him and kept going, but I tried one more time to be nice. “I’m really sorry. Normally, I’d love to—”
He grabbed my wrist and grinned flirtatiously. “Just one dance. Then, if you still want to look for your friend, we’ll do it together.” He grabbed my hand, and I was caught in the current, moving behind him through the crowd and onto the dance floor. Before I knew it, I was pressed up against him, and we were swaying in time to the music. On TV he’d looked so tall, but in real life not so much. Russ was at least three or four inches taller than him. Russ! I twisted to see if I could spot him, and Kyle whispered in my ear. “One dance, that’s all I ask. And who knows, maybe your friend will spot you.”
My tendency to be nice kicked in and I thought, oh the hell with it. I hadn’t had much luck searching through the crowd. Maybe Kyle was right and one of my friends might just see me on the dance floor. In my red gown I did stand out.
When the music stopped, I stepped back and Kyle and I clapped politely. “I have to go now,” I said, gesturing randomly to the crowd. “Thank you for the dance.”
“Wait,” he said.
But I didn’t wait. I’d already given him too much time. I rushed away, Kyle on my heels. I pushed through the crowd saying, “Excuse me, excuse me!” as I went.
Behind me Kyle called out, “But I didn’t get your number!”
In all my eleven-year-old dreaming I’d never once had a scenario where I tried to ditch Kyle Sternhagen. I went around clusters of people drinking champagne and talking. Behind one pillar, a distinguished-looking older man kissed a younger blond woman who looked young enough to be his daughter. But I couldn’t let myself get distracted. I pushed forward, zig-zagging my way to the other end of the room.
“Lady in red!”
I made the mistake of glancing back and wound up plowing right into a guy holding a champagne glass. I looked back in time to see the liquid come flying out of his glass drenching his neck and the front of his tux. “Oh no!” I said, stopping. “I’m so sorry.”
He didn’t look much older than me, but he was big. Like steroid big. Like he could bench press a cow. He grunted and said, “Don’t worry about it,” but his annoyed look contradicted his words. A large wet stain marked the front of his shirt and tie. Champagne dripped off his chin and ran down his neck. He brushed at the front of the tux with his hand as if that would help.
“Here,” I grabbed a napkin off a nearby table and started to wipe the champagne dripping down his neck but he stepped back before I’d barely started.
“Stop it!” he yelled, clapping a hand over his neck and letting go of the champagne glass, which shattered as it hit the floor. As he walked angrily away, a shorter man with a gray beard and glasses came up from behind and asked, “What happened?” The guy with the champagne-stained shirt grumbled a response, but I couldn’t hear what it was because I was overwhelmed by the hateful feelings I’d picked up when my hand had connected with his skin seconds earlier. The sensation had been brief but powerful. This guy was pure evil. The kind of person who accelerated when he saw a puppy in the middle of the road. Or thought nothing of killing a president and helping to take over a government if it meant he came out on top. He was, I could tell, one of the Associates, which meant that the older man with him was in league with them too. I looked down at the napkin in my hand. Besides being wet, it had a smudge of something that looked like a dark beige cream. Something on his skin had been covered up with thick make-up.
I got a sudden image, remembering when Russ told me about a test the Associates had put him through. He’d passed through a series of rooms, each one with its own challenge. In one room, he went up against two young guys who shared his talent for shooting electricity, and one of them, he’d told me, had a snake tattooed on his neck. On the very same side of the neck that this guy had covered with makeup. If it was the same person, that would explain his reaction.
I was jarred out of my thoughts by a pair of arms wrapped around me in a tight bear hug. “Lady in red, I have found you!” Kyle said, breathing hard.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Russ
After seeing David Hofstetter drop to his knees, I thought I’d triggered a heart attack in the man. When he said, “Dammit Russ,” I was actually relieved that he swore at me, because if he could speak that forcefully, he was probably going to be okay.
“David! Are you okay?” I asked. Around us people stopped talking to see what the deal was with the guy kneeling on the floor.
He shook his head like a dog after a bath. “Oh man, you’ve got some zap there, son.”
I extended my hand and helped him up.
David rose and brushed off his knees, then spoke to the curious onlookers. “I’m fine, really. Nothing to see here. As you were.” They took him at his word and turned away, resuming their drinking and conversation. Given how much champagne was being served it was understandable that the crowd was so mellow.
Jameson and Mallory said their hellos to David, and I introduced Layla to him. After the usual pleasantries, he said, “If you folks don’t mind, I’d like to talk to Russ alone for a minute.”
Mallory and Jameson took a few steps back, but Layla pulled me so close that her body melded against mine. “I’m sorry, but Russ was instructed to be with me at all times.”
David gave her a winning smile. “This will only take a second. It’s personal.” He had that pleading puppy dog look that made me think this was about Carly.
She returned his smile. “You can say anything in front of me, isn’t that right, Russ?”
Oh, I did hate being in the middle. This reminded me of the time my parents got into a heated argument. When my mom left the room, my dad had said, “Is it me, or is she being completely irrational?” That’s when I made a really big mistake. I agreed with him and she overheard me. Now whenever things get testy, Mom sniffs and says, “I guess I’m being irrational.” I’d learned my lesson. I didn’t want to be in the middle and I resented him for putting me there. Layla’s safety trumped everything else this evening. I said, “David, is this about my sister? Because if it is, it’ll have to wait.”
He hesitated, “Well, it’s just that…”
“Oh no, it is about Carly.”
“Do you have any idea how she’ll react when she finds out I’m still alive?” He said all the words in a rush.
Layla shot me a puzzled look, but I didn’t want to get into a lengthy explanation. I took her arm and said, “We’ll talk about this later.”
Layla said, “Oh Russ, show some mercy and talk to the man.”
The only way to say it was to just tell him the truth. “David, I couldn’t keep lying to Carly. I already told her that you’re still alive. Oh, and I told her you were Frank’s dad too.”
He had a stricken look on his face. “How did she react?”
I liked David, I really did, but I loved my sister and my nephew a whole lot more. “How do you think she reacted? She was mad and when she got over being mad, she was crushed. All those years.” I shook my head. “You know you broke her heart.” My words made an impact. He looked suitably punished. I asked, “Anything else you want to know?”
When he didn’t respond, I said, “I guess that’s it then.” We started to walk away, but he recovered and followed us, grabbing my arm. “Just one more thing. Please, just listen. This will only take a few seconds.”
I’d gone this far, how could I not listen to just one more thing? Besides, I was starting to feel sorry for him. “Sure thing, David. What is it?”
He had hold of my sleeve and he leaned in to speak near my ear. “If I die before I get to see Carly would you tell her something for me?” I nodded and he continued. “Tell her that I know I made a big mistake. That if I could do it over again, I would have stayed, no matter what. Tell her that I know now that love should always come first. Can you tell her that for me?”
A little dramatic, I thought, but he was heading in the right direction. I said,
“Sure, I could tell her that, but I won’t need to. You’re going to see her soon, David.”
“I hope so.” When he pulled away I thought I saw the glint of tears in his eyes. He exhaled and said, “Now I need to go back to work.”
As he walked away, Layla said, “If you think you won’t have to explain what that was all about, you’re dead wrong.”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
Nadia
I felt Kyle’s arms around my shoulders but I didn’t pull away. “Help me out a minute, will you?” I asked sweetly. “I need to look for my friend, but I can’t see over the crowd.”
“Tell me what she looks like and I’ll find her,” he said eagerly, letting go and putting one hand visor-like over his forehead.
“Nope, I have a better idea. Do this and give me a boost.” I demonstrated what I wanted, interlocking my fingers to make a stirrup.
He was just drunk enough to go for it. I stepped into the curve of his fingers and pulled up on his shoulders until I was suspended above the crowd. From his leering grin I could tell that he liked having me pressed against him. I scanned the room, looking from end to end. The dance floor looked less crowded from this angle, and the band members more lively, especially the bandleader who energetically raised and lowered his arms to set the beat.
“Do you see her?” he asked. Where he got the idea my friend was a girl, I didn’t know but I didn’t correct him.
“Not yet. Still looking.”
And then I saw her—Mallory on the other side of the crowd, with her hand tucked into Jameson's elbow. They were both looking intently at something with very serious expressions on their faces. I didn’t see Russ or Layla, but they could have been one of the several people nearby facing away from me. "Mallory," I yelled, waving my arm from side to side. "Mallory!"
Edgewood Series: Books 1 - 3 Page 83