by Robin King
William came back after just a minute. “It’s an old copy. My mom gave it to me when I left home. This is the same one she read to me when I was younger.” He held out a leather-bound book. I accepted it and began to carefully turn the pages, not wanted to ruin the family heirloom.
William sat on a love seat adjacent to my chair, stretching his legs out in front of him on the cushion. The faint scent of old musk aftershave floated from his direction like he had just put it on.
“So, big plans tonight?” His voice was unsteady. He stared at my dress again before looking away.
I tried to use the Shakespeare book as a shield to cover my exposed body. “Oh, uh, no. I just got back from an art show at the museum with my roommate, Casey.”
His eyes brightened. “How was it?”
“There were a few interesting moments, but I actually went to support Casey’s love of the abstract. I’m more of a realist.”
“Sometimes it’s hard to get inside the artist’s head and find the meaning.” He played with a small hole at the hem of his shirt.
“Speaking of meaning, how good are you at interpreting Shakespeare? I also need to figure out this stanza from Much Ado about Nothing for a . . . an assignment.”
“If I hadn’t majored in Spanish, English literature would’ve been my fallback. What are you trying to figure out?”
I quoted the phrase from Much Ado from memory. William got up and moved to the side of the sofa closest to my chair and held out his hand for the book.
“Here, my book has that play too. Let’s see the context for that one. Do you know what scene it’s in?”
“Act II, scene I.”
William leafed through the pages to find the play, then started reading. I almost told him the exact location of the stanza, but I enjoyed watching him smile as he perused the text.
“Well, first off, you have to understand where this is coming from. Claudio’s in love with Hero, but he’s been duped by his friends into believing she is going to run away with another man.” William closed the book and let his fingers trace the gold lettering embossed in the leather cover. He looked up. “Basically what he is saying is that you have to be careful whom you trust in the matters of business and love. Those you trust will not be faithful if their hearts are bewitched with love.”
“Sounds to me like Claudio’s weak and needs new friends.”
“That isn’t too far from the truth, though I’d give the poor guy the benefit of the doubt. It’s hard to be strong when a pretty face comes along.”
For a brief moment our eyes met. I turned away and cleared my throat.
“And Troilus and Cressida is in there too?” I motioned toward the book still in William’s hand.
“Yeah, it’s one of the last ones . . .” He turned several pages and pointed. “Right here.” He handed me the book.
I scanned the pages until I came to the passage Elijah had mentioned. I read aloud:
A goodly medicine for my aching bones! O world!
world! world! thus is the poor agent despised!
O traitors and bawds, how earnestly are you set a-work, and how ill requited! Why should our
endeavour be so loved and the performance so loathed?
“Pandarus was definitely a drama queen,” William said.
“Okay, I admit it. I have absolutely no idea what he’s saying. Can I get a little help here?” I opened my eyes wide and pouted, sticking out my bottom lip, a flirtatious move I’d picked up on from Casey. William scooted closer and pointed to the words of the book. His shoulder brushed up against mine and he didn’t move away. Casey is a genius!
“Well, Pandarus is frustrated because he thought he was making Troilus happy by getting him together with Cressida. But later Cressida decides to be with another man. That breaks Troilus’s heart and he tells Pandarus off. That passage is Pandarus complaining about his good intentions as matchmaker.”
“Shakespeare sure does love his tragedies. I’m still a little confused at how these two excerpts are related. I guess both talk of love and betrayal?”
“True. It’s kind of a reoccurring theme of Shakespeare, though. Besides those concepts, I’m not sure what else your teacher wanted you to pick out from those stanzas.”
William read the passage from Much Ado while holding his place in Troilus and Cressida. I watched him flip back and forth from one set of verses to the other. He looked across the room thoughtfully. When he turned back to me, his mouth opened like he was going to say something, but then he closed it again.
“So?” I prodded him.
“I was just going to make something up that sounded very intellectual.” He smiled. “But I have to be honest with you. I’m not sure if I can help you find more connections with these. I never really liked Troilus and Cressida anyway.”
“It’s okay. You’ve already helped me understand more than I would have on my own.”
The front door burst open, and Devin walked in with two Chinese takeout boxes in each hand.
“Hey, Alex. Staying for dinner?” He set the boxes on the coffee table and looked at me and then my dress. I took that as a cue to go home and change as soon as possible.
“Uh, thanks. But I should probably get back.” I stood up and started to walk to the door. “Again, sorry for bugging you, William. You’ve really been helpful.”
He jumped up. “Can . . . can I walk you home?” His formality made me giggle inside. I really did want him to “walk me home,” but I didn’t need Casey’s Dating for Dummies book to know those three words were code for something more. William was my professor, and I’d already crossed the line enough for one day.
“No, no, I’m fine. You’ve got dinner, and I parked my car just around the corner anyway.” His smile faded, so I added, “But I’ll see you on Monday. Spanish study session at lunchtime? At the Rat?”
“Yeah, that’d be great.”
I headed down the concrete steps and onto the pebble stone walkway.
“Wait, Alex,” William said, coming down the steps. “Don’t you need this?” He held out the Shakespeare book.
“I totally forgot. Thanks.” Not that I need it anymore.
I reached out to take the book from him, and our fingertips touched briefly. I looked down, just in case the light from the street lamp revealed the red hue of my cheeks. As I walked to my car, I felt William’s gaze follow me, reminding me that I was still in a short little dress. I resisted the urge to dash around the corner in my high heels. Where were my pink running shoes when I needed them? Casey will pay for getting me to wear this thing!
On the drive to my dorm, I thought about what we had read and what William had said. What was Elijah trying to tell me, and why didn’t he just come out and say it?
I couldn’t find a parking spot on the street nearest the dorm, so I had to walk a few blocks to the building. Casey still wasn’t home. I slipped out of the dress and left it crumpled on her bed with a sticky note that read, “All future dresses will be at least five inches longer than this one and much looser.” I knew she would laugh at my request, but I had to draw the line somewhere in her little Dress Up Alex game.
William’s words and Shakespeare’s floated around in my mind while I lay on my bed staring up at the ceiling. Love. Betrayal. Trust no agent . . . agent . . .
“Can’t you just use one of these?” I asked Tanner, shaking a brownie mix in front of his face. The rows of baking ingredients on Top Foods’ aisle 7 were already giving me a headache.
“Do you want my famous brownies or not? Perfectly gooey brownies MUST be made with the right ingredients.” The expression on my brother’s face was so serious that I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.
“Are you sure you want to take that WSU scholarship to play football next year? Sounds like your passion lies more in the culinary arts.” I put the mix back on the shelf and pretended to tie on an apron and stir a bowl of imaginary batter.
He rolled his eyes and continued to scan the baking ais
le for the bittersweet chocolate.
“Aha! Here we go.” He grabbed a box of chocolate baking squares off the shelf, rebelliously opened it right there, and held it up to my nose. “Do you smell that? That’s the smell of real chocolate—the real chocolate I need to make real brownies. Now let’s go find Mom and get out of here before our late-night brownies become breakfast.”
“I like brownies for breakfast.” I skipped like a schoolgirl down the aisle to keep up with Tanner’s long-legged stride.
“So that’s why you run so much. That way you can eat dessert for breakfast and still keep those skinny legs.” He bumped my hip with his own, making me lose my balance and knock a few cereal boxes from the end cap to the ground before regaining my step. He helped me pick them up.
We found Mom in the dairy aisle with a gallon of whole milk in one arm and a quart of ice cream in the other.
“I thought we were doing brownies for dessert,” I said.
“What are brownies without ice cream?” She smiled wide and I returned the smile, our dimples a mirror of each other. “And you know how your dad likes to wash his down with real milk, not the skim I usually buy.”
We walked briskly to the checkout and made it to Tanner’s Buick just as the sun disappeared behind the pine-covered Cascade Mountains. Mom sat in the front with Tanner, and I buckled myself in the middle of the back seat, mostly so I could lean forward and change the station if Tanner started belting out country songs again.
“How’s the latest exhibit at the museum coming along, Mom?” I asked. “Get all the pieces you’re looking for?”
“I just acquired that Rembrandt painting I’ve been trying to find. I think this religious icon exhibit is going to be one of our best yet.” She looked back at me, pride in her eyes. She was so passionate about her job as curator at the museum. Sometimes it took her away from us on nights or weekends, but her work brought her so much joy.
“ You’ll have to let us know when the show begins. Lexie and I will come take a look,” Tanner said before he turned up the volume on the stereo. His pimped-up sound system vibrated with each bass note.
“Hey, gangster! Turn it down. I don’t want hearing aids before I get my own driver’s license.” I had to yell over the noise coming from the speakers. “Besides, we’ve listened to this song eight times this week. Don’t the lyrics ever get old to you?”
Tanner turned the volume down. Mom unplugged her ears.
“I hear something different every time it’s played,” he said. “We can’t all have perfect memories, Polaroid.” He looked over his shoulder at me and winked before returning his focus to the road. I rolled my eyes but inwardly smiled. He was the only one I tolerated teasing me. It was the right of an older brother, and I had long ago accepted it as part of life.
Halfway home, Tanner switched from his wanna-be-rapper facade to his slightly more believable Broadway star persona. I couldn’t resist singing when Phantom of the Opera came on— one of my favorite musicals. Our duet of “Music of the Night” became a trio when Mom joined in. Surprisingly, we blended well until Tanner began to sing an octave higher than the original. Our laughter at his falsetto drowned out the music as we came to a four-way stop.
The moon was barely visible above the towering evergreen trees—just a sliver in the navy sky. One streetlight shone through the car windows, casting shadows across our skin. Mom turned slightly so I could see her profile and the happy crinkles at the corner of her eye.
I didn’t see it coming.
The sound came first. Crunching metal. Breaking glass. The first blow sent my body to the right, nearly yanking me from my seat belt. The side of my head slammed against the door.
Then spinning, spinning. The world blurred from my view. When it stopped, my eyes had just enough time to focus when two headlights shone into the windshield. They got closer and closer. Oh, please, stop. STOP!
I couldn’t skip what happened next or fast-forward through it. I knew what was coming and wanted to rewrite it and film a new scene, but I wasn’t the director of my memories.
There was nothing I could do but scream.
“Alex, Alex.” Casey stood at the edge of my bed, her hand gently pressing my shoulder. “It’s okay. You’re awake now.”
I sat up and brushed my damp, tangled hair off my face with trembling hands. My heart still pounded loudly in my ears, and my body ached. My old T-shirt was drenched, clinging to my chest and stomach. I pulled it away from my skin and shivered.
“Sorry about that,” Casey said. “I had to splash some water on you to get you to wake up. Must have been some nightmare!”
Diffused light came through the blinds and hit her face. Her dark eyes were wide with concern. I stared down at the empty water bottle on the carpet. Get a hold of yourself, Alex. Think about something else. Anything else.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, yeah.” My barely audible voice didn’t sound convincing, even to myself.
“Want to talk about it?” She placed her hand on mine. I wanted to hug her and cry. I wanted to confide in her about my memory, but I couldn’t. Saying it out loud would make it more real. I didn’t want it to be real.
I cleared my throat. “No, I’m fine. Just a nightmare, like you said.” I got up from the bed and crossed the room to get some dry clothes. I stared blankly into the closet for at least a minute while my breathing slowed.
“So . . . any fun plans for fall break?” she asked.
I was grateful for the change of subject. “Um . . . I told my Dad I’d go out for dinner with him one night. Beside, I’ll probably be doing stuff for Golkov.” I had regained my voice, though my heart wasn’t quite into the conversation. I forced myself to think of more pleasant thoughts, like Sensei Itosu taught me. Out of nowhere, I flashed to the scene of Daly on his back, his expression boiling over with angry defeat. That image made me feel better.
“I wonder if William has plans.” Casey joined me at the closet and handed me a pair of brown leggings and a long, button-down cream shirt. “Maybe when I get back, we can go on a double date or something.”
“Stop it, Case. I’m still not sure how I feel about . . . the whole thing. Besides, I don’t think he . . . we’re just good friends.”
“You seriously have no idea about guys, do you?” She grabbed my shoulders and turned me to face her. “How many times have you seen him in the last week? Four? Five?” She raised an eyebrow and looked me straight in the eyes. She would have made a great police interrogator.
“Six?” I squeaked.
“Oh, girl! You’re hopeless. He’s obviously interested.”
“I wish you weren’t going home to Georgia. Who am I going to go on a late-night ice cream run with?”
“I can think of someone.”
“Ugh!” I left our bedroom and slammed the door on the way to the bathroom. Even though I tried to act mad at her teasing, deep down I secretly hoped what she said about William was true.
I let the hot water wash over me in the shower. Casey’s attempt at distraction had worked temporarily, but my hands still shook. I leaned against the aqua tile wall and let out an exhausted breath, wishing water could wash away memories, too.
18
Red Eye
“I had to remove the stone to insert the GPS and microphone, but as you can see—” Millard held a small brooch up to the florescent light “—the ruby’s still intact.”
“I love vintage jewelry,” I exclaimed while pinning the brooch onto my jacket. I still felt a little on edge from my dream, but I tried to cover it up by overcompensating with enthusiasm. I had escaped Casey’s taunting and arrived early at the gym that morning, hoping Sensei Itosu would be there to distract me. Before I could step onto the gym floor, Millard had bounced down the stairs and intercepted me, obviously overjoyed at his newest creation.
“It’s not quite ready,” he said. “I still have to work on your earpiece to go with it. Maybe matching earrings?”
“It looks amazing.
You really know the way to a girl’s heart.” I elbowed him playfully in the ribs.
“I thought you’d be saying that to me today.” Daly stood at the top of the stairs holding a thick manila folder in his hand. He seemed to be in a good mood for someone recently knocked off his feet by his new operative. I waited for him to make some jest about our fight to redeem himself, but instead he only said, “I have your first mission details right here.”
My stomach tied itself in knots. “My . . . my first mission?” I choked on the words. “I thought most operatives didn’t do field work until after the first year. I’ve been here less than a month!”
“Golkov feels you’re ready. In fact, we have a meeting with him in just a few minutes. Will you excuse us, Millard?”
He nodded. I reluctantly handed back the brooch and followed Daly out of the training area and into Golkov’s office near the conference room. Daly and I sat on the leather couch across from the professor, who sat at his desk.
“You know why you are here, Alexandra. But before we get into the details, I have something for you. We don’t have an induction ceremony or welcoming party for our new operatives, but here is something that should make you feel part of the team.” Golkov placed a small, royal-blue satin box on the glass desk between us. I hadn’t received a gift for a long time, and the idea of something just for me caused a smile to break through the last of the morning’s gloominess. I picked up the box and opened it.
The black velvet lining held a silver ring. The emblem on its face had already been etched into my memory, but now it was mine. I slid the glossy new ring onto the middle finger of my left hand. It fit perfectly and glistened in the fluorescent overhead lights. I stared at it like a soon-to-be-bride, admiring it more for its meaning than its appearance. This was it. I was officially part of The Company. Questions still loomed in my mind about my role as an operative and the upcoming mission, but I knew this was where I belonged.
“Thank you,” I breathed out after a few moments, still holding my hand out to the light in a daze. The two men chuckled.