Slow Burn

by Roxie Noir

  Last year he got arrested for visiting a prostitute. It was a huge scandal, and it also came out that he had a pornography addiction, not to mention a problem with texting students at Calvary College inappropriate pictures.

  His father nearly disowned him, but Kyle went on an apology tour, going on Christian talk shows and to Christian churches, giving interviews in the Christian press, talking about his recovery from his problems and how his faith helped him heal. He pleaded guilty to the charges and got probation plus community service.

  Conveniently, he got to count the lectures at churches and schools about the insidious danger of pornography as his service.

  I, of course, am divorced. Basically the same thing as frequenting prostitutes, sending out pictures of my genitals to people who don’t want them, and masturbating to pictures of cartoon characters having sex, right?

  “I’m only telling you this because you’re my sister and I love you,” Grace says softly. “Someone has to talk reason into you.”

  The worst part is that it’s true. She is telling me because she thinks she’s helping, and that might be the thing that makes me feel most trapped of all.

  “I know,” I say, and lean my head back, closing my eyes. We don’t talk for the next two hours.

  When we get to Greentown Community College, there’s a small crowd of protesters already gathered. They’re waving rainbow signs that say things like IT’S OKAY TO BE GAY, wearing flowers in their hair, the girls in tank tops and the guys in shorts.

  I think they’re having a lot more fun than I am.

  On the bus, I stand in the aisle and wait for everyone in front of me to disembark. Grace hands me Emma, who’s half-asleep, so I hold her while my sister gathers all her things together in one place.

  She definitely has more baby stuff than she does baby.

  “Hey there, cutie,” says Gabriel’s voice.

  Emma stares, and I turn my head.

  “What are you looking at?” he asks, keeping his voice soft. “What do you think you’re looking at?”

  Then he reaches out and taps Emma on the nose very lightly.

  After a second, she gives him a giant toothless grin, and I laugh.

  “She likes you,” I say.

  “Kids usually do,” says Gabriel. “I have no idea why.”

  He holds a manila folder up in front of his face. Emma’s smile drops, but after a moment, Gabriel lowers the folder and she grins again, even bigger this time.

  “Boo!” Gabriel says, and does it again.

  I try to act normal, but I think my ovaries might actually explode, because it’s just about the cutest thing I’ve ever seen. They play peek-a-boo until Grace takes Emma back, I grab her diaper bag, and we finally start moving for the front of the bus.

  “You remember everything we talked about, right?” he says. “Lines of sight, exit routes?”

  “I think so,” I say, even though I’m scrambling to remember, and then we’re getting off the bus.

  Gabriel stands between me and the protesters, though he only gives them a cursory glance before glancing around at the trees, the tops of the buildings, the other knots of people milling around.

  “Then you remember that the most important thing is to stay alert,” he goes on. “Don’t let yourself get distracted. If someone tries something, it’s likely that there will be some sort of distraction first, just to make sure as little attention as possible is on you.”

  I still haven’t told him that I’m nearly positive my father wrote those letters. I don’t think he’d believe me — why would he? — and he’d still have to do his job anyway.

  “Right,” I say.

  Two of the protesting women, both in shorts and tight-fitting tank tops, have stopped waving signs and shouting. They’re just staring at Gabriel, whispering to each other.

  He glances at them for a second, then looks away, but they keep gawking until we walk through the auditorium doors. Gabriel acts like nothing happened, even though I know he saw them.

  “You remember the exits?” he asks.

  I look around, trying to picture the floor plans in my head.

  “Right there, obviously,” I say, pointing behind me. “Same place, on the other side of the stage, halfway down the auditorium, back of the auditorium.”

  “And?”

  I narrow my eyes, looking at him. He smiles.

  “One more.”

  “…underneath the stage at the back?”

  “I had a feeling you were a quick study,” he says. “Nice work.”

  He holds out one fist, and I bump it with my own, smiling back at him.

  “Ruby,” my mother’s voice says, and I jump about a foot, wiping the smile off my face.

  She gives me a sharp look, then settles her glance on Gabriel, features melting into her usual sweet smile.

  “Your brother needs help sorting out name tags,” she says. “Could you be a dear?”

  “Of course,” I say, returning her empty, sweet smile, even though my stomach is in a knot.

  I didn’t do anything, I remind myself, over and over again.

  The next hour goes by in an exhausting blur. There are children everywhere, one of the speakers cancelled last minute so we have to redo the schedule, not to mention set up the table in the foyer of books, CDs, pamphlets, and homeschooling materials that my mother sells.

  The women do all this. The men stand around talking, except Gabriel, who does whatever I’m doing.

  Finally, ten minutes before the event is scheduled to begin, my father calls a prayer circle. I hold hands with Grace and Daniel while my father calls on Jesus to bless this endeavor, open the hearts of his supporters, turn the wickedness away from the hearts of his detractors, continue to defend against Satan, et cetera.

  To be honest, I kind of tune out after a minute. When it’s over I get pulled away again to re-tape a red, white, and blue ribbon to the back of a chair, Gabriel hovering in the background.

  As I’m taping, my mother swishes around a stage curtain, practically dragging Joy behind her.

  “Ow,” Joy mutters, because she knows better than to shout.

  “You will not disrespect me like that,” my mother snaps, pulling on Joy’s arm a little harder. Joy’s only an inch or two shorter than my mom — she’s fourteen — but there’s still fear in her eyes.

  “Sorry, ma’am,” Joy whispers.

  My mother grabs Joy by the chin, squeezing my sister’s face tightly. I wince in sympathy, even though I don’t do anything. I know how much that hurts. I’ve had my chin grabbed a lot.

  “Now go out there with a pleasant, pleasing countenance,” she says.

  Joy nods.

  “Keep sweet,” my mother says, lets Joy go, then walks away without even looking at us again.

  Joy glances our way, eyes shining, then scurries off. Gabriel looks at me, and I make my face as neutral as possible, like nothing just happened.

  But inside, I’m furious. I’m mortified. I think I might throw up, and it’s half because I hate that he just saw that and half because I hate that I didn’t do a single thing.

  I remember the vodka in my purse. If I can’t do anything, maybe at least I can care less.

  “Excuse me,” I tell him. “I need to go to the ladies’ room.”

  I grab my purse and walk off.

  Chapter Eight

  Gabriel

  I’m standing in the hallway, waiting for Ruby, when a portly middle-aged man hustles my way.

  “We need Ruby,” he informs me.

  “She’s using the facilities,” I tell him, gesturing at the door to the hallway where the bathrooms are. I didn’t follow her in there because it seemed rude, and I doubt there’s much danger there.

  “She’s been gone quite a while,” the man says, glancing at an expensive watch. He’s the Senator’s Chief of Staff, and I’m fairly sure his name is Beau. “Could you go check?”

  I open my mouth to protest, but he holds up one hand.

&nbs
p; “Son, just do it,” he says, with the air of someone who thinks he always knows what’s best, and quick anger flares inside me.

  I remind myself that I’m at work. This is my job.

  I go do it.

  She’s not in the hallway, so I steel myself and push open the door to the ladies’ room just a crack, eyes shut.

  “Ruby?” I call.

  My voice echoes off empty tile. No one answers. There’s not even a sound.

  I open my eyes.

  “Ruby?” I call again, pushing the door wider. The bathroom’s completely empty, just four metal stalls, a few sinks, and a hand dryer that looks older than me.

  I go into alert mode, whip out my phone, and call the Senator’s chief of security. In the Secret Service we had earbuds and radios, always in communication, but things down here are a little more basic.

  “Ray,” he answers as I push open each stall door, just to make sure.

  “Ruby’s out of pocket,” I say. “She went to the ladies’ room and now she’s gone. I’m following up. Have someone circle the building and check the exits.”

  Adrenaline is leaking through my veins, sharpening everything into crystal-clear focus as plans and orders spin through my head. We need to secure the exits, make sure someone’s on the parking lot. The Senator’s biggest fear was kidnapping, and my stomach tightens.

  She probably stepped outside for some air, I remind myself. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, if the target disappears, they’ve just forgotten that they had security watching them in the first place and wandered off.

  That doesn’t change my job, though. Ray sighs into the phone.

  “All right,” he says, not sounding all that concerned. “We’ll do that.”

  I hang up and jog down the hallway, in the opposite direction I came from. It turns, and there’s a door to the outside, probably where she went.

  I open it and look around. Bright sunshine, incredible heat, and the smell of fresh-cut grass, but no Ruby. I shut it and keep jogging down the hallway, which turns again, toward the back of the stage. Now I’m looking at the tall black curtain, light seeping underneath it, surrounded by a forest of other curtains.

  She’s not here. If she were back with the group, Ray would have just told me. There aren’t many other places she can be, so she must have gone outside, maybe walked around the building when she couldn’t get back in that door.

  Or worse, someone’s —

  A curtain moves, at the very edge of my vision, but in two steps I’m there and I push it open, sending ripples through the whole setup backstage.

  Ruby stares back at me, a flask halfway to her barely-parted lips, frozen.

  Thank God.

  I swallow. The spikes of adrenaline recede, the cool buzz of relief taking over. She’s here, she’s fine, she isn’t being kidnapped and held for ransom or worse.

  “You can’t do that,” I tell her, my voice low, my hand still holding the curtain up.

  She gives me that sweet, sunny smile, locking eyes with me as she lifts the flask to her lips and takes a swig.

  “Trust me, it’s for the best,” she says, an edge to her voice.

  “I meant you can’t walk off without telling me,” I say.

  I step forward and let the curtain go, blocking our view of the backstage area. Suddenly it’s almost pitch-black, just the two of us, the pale oval of her face and the gleam of the flask all that’s really visible.

  “Apparently I can,” she says, like it’s a challenge.

  I open my mouth to answer, but my phone buzzes. It’s Ray.

  “I just found her,” I tell him before he can say anything.

  “Phew,” he says. “We’ve been looking all over the place for that girl.”

  Ruby’s staring at me, eyes wide, silently screwing the cap back onto her flask, and I think of my last meeting with the Senator.

  This is exactly what he meant, I think. I could score so many points with him right now.

  I pause. Ruby blinks, her green eyes nervous and brave and challenging all at once, even in the dark.

  “She just stepped out for a moment and forgot to tell me,” I say. “I found her backstage.”

  Her jaw flexes, and her eyes feel like they might bore a hole straight through my skull. I stare right back into those green depths, serious and beautiful.

  Her father asked me to spy on her, and he’s my boss, one of the most powerful men in Washington.

  Her gaze doesn’t waver for a second, and really, there’s no fucking choice here.

  “She said she wanted a quiet moment alone to… pray,” I tell Ray. “For… strength.”

  That gets an honest-to-God smile out of Ruby, her green eyes lighting up in the darkness. I grin back at her.

  “Oh, well, of course. She’s just got to tell someone first instead of runnin’ off like that,” Ray admonishes me. He’s perfectly audible to Ruby, too, and she rolls her eyes for a split second.

  “We’re heading back now. Sorry for the scare.”

  “That girl’s always been a handful,” he says, and hangs up.

  I slide my phone back into my pocket. Ruby holds up the flask, offering it to me.

  “Got anything to pray for?” she asks softly, her eyes teasing in the dark.

  “I don’t pray on the job,” I say.

  We’re keeping our voices low, telling secrets in the dark.

  “You only pray before the job?”

  “I thought we agreed that never happened,” I say, smiling slowly.

  “Is it as bad as you thought, or is it worse?”

  “Parts are better, actually.”

  I don’t say this is the part that’s better.

  We lock eyes for a moment, and then she looks away, toward the curtain separating us from the rest of backstage.

  “Thanks for lying,” she says. “I’ll try to behave on your watch.”

  I nearly tell her that she doesn’t have to, that she can misbehave all she wants with me, but I bite my tongue. This isn’t what I’m here for.

  “That’s a tall order,” I tell her. “Everything you do is my watch.”

  “Then I guess I’ll try to behave all the time.”

  I take half a step closer to her, lower my voice even further. I’ve only been around the Burgesses two and a half days, but I already feel like I’m constantly being monitored.

  “I don’t care if you need some liquid courage before you go on stage,” I tell her. “I was worried because I thought you’d been kidnapped.”

  Her mouths twitches into a half-smile, and she flicks me a quick glance like she knows something I don’t.

  “Right,” she murmurs, then clears her throat.

  “Someone’s stalking you, Ruby. I’ve seen the letters.”

  She tilts her head slightly, though she doesn’t move away from me.

  “I haven’t,” she says.

  I swallow. I hate saying this out loud, but I want her to take my protection seriously.

  “He said he would take you,” I start, trying to soft pedal this as much as I can. “Tie you up in the trunk of his car, drive you to the woods, strap you to a tree, and cut your clothes off with a knife.”

  I stop and close my eyes. Reading it was hard, saying it out loud, to her, is close to impossible.

  “He said he’d cut you, and then… do things.”

  Ruby’s green eyes nearly glow in the dark, and for the first time, she looks shocked, appalled, and uncertain. For a moment she looks away from me, her face even paler in the dark.

  “What things?” she whispers.

  I take a deep breath and straighten my jacket, unconsciously feeling for my gun in its holster.

  “He said he would…”

  And then I have to imagine it, Ruby tied to a tree and bleeding, this pervert with his dick out. I shake my head.

  “I can’t. I’m sorry. I can’t.”

  She just nods.

  “I think I get it,” she murmurs, then looks back at me. “Thanks fo
r telling me.”

  “I’m sorry I couldn’t.”

  “I understand,” she says, and then we’re both quiet for a moment. I know people are waiting for us, and I know that with every second we don’t leave this pocket of backstage curtains we risk someone finding us here, but I like it being here, caught in the glow of Ruby’s eyes, the only sound the thump of my own heartbeat.

  “We should go before we get caught,” she finally says.

  “Caught doing what?” I ask, even though I know what she means.

  “We’re alone together.”

  Still, neither of us moves. I feel rooted to the spot, unwilling to give up this sixty seconds of intimacy, this glimpse of the real Ruby. There’s a totally different girl behind the innocent smiles and the obedience and the faux-meekness, and I like talking to her.

  “Are you saying I can’t be trusted?” I tease.

  “I’m saying this could look improper,” she murmurs, looking up at me. “And appearances are everything around here.”

  “You like that word, improper.”

  “I don’t like it. I’ve just heard it a lot.”

  “Have you?”

  “Endlessly, and I’d like to avoid hearing it again.”

  I feel like I’m walking along a cliff, right on the edge of dangerous, because I’m alone with the Senator’s daughter and there’s something about the shape of her mouth, the curve of her waist, the gleam in her eye that makes me want to crush my mouth against hers and push her against this wall.

  Which is just about the worst possible thing I could do.

  Somewhere, a door opens. Ruby takes a quick step back from me, her face tightening, and I push aside the curtain, letting the light in. As we step out, she turns to me, footsteps approaching.

  “Can I give you a piece of advice?” she asks.

  “Anything.”

  Ruby smiles her sweet, innocent, fake smile, and it’s like the girl who was with me behind the curtain is erased.

  “Keep sweet,” she says, and walks for the door.

  Chapter Nine

  Ruby

  “Where were you?” my mother hisses as I re-appear, flanked by Gabriel on one side and Ray on the other.