A Girl Called Fearless (17 page)

“I got back like an hour ago, but I had to see you,” she said.

“I can't believe you're here.”

“Ohmygodohmygod,” she squealed, and I bounced on my feet just like her, trying to act like I was totally elated she was back.

Day pulled me into the car. “Let's get out of here before anyone sees me,” she said. “I look like crap.”

Roik started up Big Black and Dayla shoved back my sleeve. “Is this
the
bracelet?”

“Ugh. Yes.”

“At least it's classy. I saw the
People
cover. At first, I couldn't tell it was you with that nasty headband and the cardi over your shoulder.”

My brain was screaming, but I forced myself to focus. If I seemed distracted for even a second, Day'd know I was up to something.

Her hair was pulled back, and she wasn't even wearing lip gloss. Her shirt was tight, but her baby tummy was still small.

“You don't look that bad. You look healthy,” I said.

“I'm disgustingly healthy. They made us walk every day. Drink milk. Take vitamins.” She curled her arm over her stomach.

“Well, that's good for the baby, right?”

She bit her lip like she was refusing to cry. “Fetal Fed is all about what's good for the baby. Look. We even sew our own diaper bags.” She held up a bag embroidered with three bears strolling toward a cottage. “Like it?”

Coded into the stitches was “Fetal Fed Sucks.”

“Ms. A would be proud,” I said.

She grabbed my purse and started fishing around. “Where's your lip gloss?”

I tried to snatch my purse away, but Day held it out of reach. “Give it back,” I said. “I'll find it for you.”

While she dug around inside, I prayed she wouldn't feel the phone hidden in the lining. “Found it,” she said, and waved the pink tube at me.

Roik pulled onto the freeway, heading for West Hollywood and Sweet Fantasies. I had to stop him. “Roik, let's forget about going shopping today.”

“No way!” Day said. “I've been locked up for weeks. I'm dying to go shopping with my best friend.”

“You sure?” I should have known. Nobody loved shopping more than Day.

Roik butted in. “I have to call Ho if we cancel.”

“No, don't call Ho.” I needed to alert Yates that our plan was falling apart, but I couldn't, not if Day was watching my every move. I had to throw her off, so I leaned over and whispered, “Have you heard from Seth?”

Day shrank back like she knew the car was monitored. “No.” Her face filled up with unsaids. “I'm so over him. I was an idiot, letting him take advantage of me.”

And the look she gave me: she was pregnant and trapped and even though she hated that Ho had asked her to spy on me, she was still going to do it.

It hurt, knowing my best friend would sell me out, but it wasn't her idea to betray me.

We turned off the freeway onto Sunset Boulevard. In a few minutes we'd reach Melrose. Drops of sweat trickled down my side.

“Come on,” Day said. “Show me the dress.”

I took out my Princess phone and pulled my Signing dress up on the screen.

“Are you kidding me?” Day said. It was nothing like the strapless pink dress with shimmery daisies she wore last spring to hers.

“It's totally virgin sacrifice.” Whisper-thin white silk falling in drapes from my shoulders. “Lance, the designer, said if I wear a bra and panties it'll ruin the lines.”

“Ewww. So, what about your hair?”

“Headband, of course.”

“What?”

I dug the words in. “Hawkins
loves
headbands. His mother was a big fan. Lance is designing me one to go with my updo. Swarovski crystals. White satin.”

“
Mom
was a headband fan?”

I blinked twice for
Yes, it's exactly what you're thinking.

Day scrunched up her nose. Yuck.

I nodded, sad that these were the only completely honest words we'd said to one another. “But what about
your
Signing?”

“It's going to be small. Just family. Buck's sons. Dad. My brothers.”

“His name's Buck?”

“Bucknell Buchanan. You can call me Mrs. Buck.” From the look she shot me, I knew she'd gut me with a hunting knife if I ever tried it.

“Does he hunt deer?”

“He lives in Montana. What do you think?”

Buck Buchanan from Montana. “He doesn't sound … Jewish.”

Dayla touched the little star hanging around her neck. “Yeah, like my dad said, ‘Beggars can't be choosers.'”

“So when is the Signing?” I asked.

“Sometime after New Year's.” Day squirmed. “Things aren't quite
settled
.”

I got the feeling her Contract was tied to mine. “So you can be my bridesmaid?”

“I made everybody promise.”

Right. Day makes sure I go through with my Signing, and then she's shipped off to Montana to start her new life. And as much as I hated her for doing it, I felt sorry for her, too. She'd lost everything. Except Seth's baby.

“We're here. Sweet Fantasies,” Roik said.

Roik drove into the gated parking lot with my perimeter guard right behind.

My blouse was glued to my back. What the hell was I going to do now?

41

Sweet Fantasies was done up like a faux boudoir: velvet couches, rosy pink fabric walls, and a domed ceiling the color of vanilla frosting.

“Don't you love this?” Day said. “It's like a giant cupcake.”

“Yeah, adorable.”

Sergio invited us to relax on little gold chairs while he brought out the merchandise Hawkins had reserved. I angled my chair so I could see the front door. My contact was going to freak when she saw me here with Day.

Day bumped my shoulder. “Sergio doesn't have panty lines.”

In that moment, I remembered everything I loved about her, and it broke my heart. “No, stop! Do not make me imagine that.”

The minutes to disaster were counting down, but if Day would only go to the bathroom, I might be able to get away.

Sergio returned with an armful of satin and lace, and tenderly arranged each tiny bra and panty set on the table in front of us. “Mr. Jes,” he said. “He love the Naughty Angel collection.”

Acid burned the back of my throat while Day stifled a laugh. She picked up a bra that was two lacy straps and a baby blue bow between barely there cups. The matching thong was basically a ribbon. “Does this come in pink?”

“But of course.” Sergio hustled off to the panty vault, and Day waved the price tag in my face. “Mr. Jes totally
loves
the Naughty Angel collection.”

The doorbell chimed, and a splash of red appeared through the sheers covering the glass. Sergio answered the door, bras hooked over his fingers.

“Why don't you try these on?” I said to Day. “Jes is so generous, I know he'd want you to have some, too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Go for it. I'll be there in a sec.”

“Yay.” She pranced away, her arms full of silk.

Sergio brought the woman with the red handbag to the table where I still sat. “I will return in one moment,” he told her.

She was Mom's age, toothpick skinny, with a great big yellow diamond on her finger. One of those women who'd survived the Scarpanol disaster, because she was anorexic or a vegetarian.

She fingered a bra on the table. “The detailing is exquisite, don't you agree?”

“Yes, it's really pretty.”

She dropped her voice to a whisper. “The car's waiting out back. Go to the dressing room. I'll pass you your clothing. You have three minutes.”

“Avie, you have to see this!”

The woman started. “You brought a
girlfriend
?”

“It's not my fault. My bodyguard surprised me.”

Her eyes darted to the front door. “This won't work.”

It could. All we needed was for Dayla to go to the bathroom. “But—”

“I'm sorry.”

“Can't we wait ten—”

“No, it's too dangerous. Do you understand?”

“Chantelle Eternelle, madame!” Sergio reappeared, waving a dove-grey confection, and I watched my contact stride away. Our conversation was over.

No, I didn't understand how things could have gone so horribly wrong when I needed them to go right. My ride to freedom was just outside the door, and Hawkins had fixed things so I couldn't take it.

My head throbbed, and I nicked a wall as I walked to the bathroom. I wasn't getting out of here. No one was going to risk extracting me today.

I locked the bathroom and typed a 911 message for Yates, but stopped before I pressed send. If I did, he'd come flying right in here and I couldn't let that happen. I cleared the message and walked to the dressing rooms.

Sergio pulled back one of the peach velvet curtains. “Put these on,” he said, handing me a pair of satin mules with puffs of marabou feathers. “They will
transform
you.”

I jerked the curtain closed, and tossed the mules onto the platform in front of the mirrors. Yeah, they'd transform me into Hawkins' plaything, a gift-wrapped virgin in lacy straps and ribbons. That's what I'd be a week from now.

This couldn't be my last chance to get away. It just couldn't.

“Buck is going to love these!” Day squealed.

Jes would, too. He'd unwrap me like a greedy little boy on Christmas morning. “Day, I think you should take one in every color.”

“Okay!”

I heard the woman who was not going to save me tell Sergio she would take the Chantelle set, and then glide past the peach curtains back to her own life. Then Sergio cooed over her and packed her lingerie, while I fought the image of the white Prius speeding down Melrose without me.

When she was gone, I poked my head into Day's dressing room. “My head's killing me. Can we get out of here?”

“Sure.” Day was smiling like a kid trying to be brave, but her eyes were filled with tears.

“What's the matter?”

She held out her arms. “I don't want to go to Montana,” she whispered. “I don't want to live fifty miles from a grocery store, trapped with some old man I've never met.”

“Isn't there anything else you—”

“No, Dad had to pay back the six million. Buck's was the only offer that came anywhere close to what Dad needed. I'm so screwed.”

“I'm sorry.”

“At least you get to stay in California.”

Imprisoned in Hawkins' compound. “Yeah, at least I get to stay in California.”

I had to contact Father G. There had to be another way out.

Day gave me a last squeeze. “Sorry. All these hormones. I get so emotional.”

Sergio spoke through the curtains in a singsong voice. “Have you decided which fantasies you desire, Mademoiselle Day?”

Day and I looked at each other and burst out laughing. It was too, too horrible. Day picked up the bra and panty sets and handed them to Sergio to wrap.

“You really feel sick?” Day said.

“Yeah, I just want to crawl into bed and go to sleep.”

She stuck her arm through mine. “Let's get out of here.”

On the way home, Day snuggled up next to me in the car. She made me promise we'd have a sleepover the next night, and then she told me she was meeting with the Headmaster on Monday, and I realized Day was staying glued to me until my Signing.

Hawkins wasn't going to let me out of his grasp.

Thank God I'd told her I was sick. If I hadn't, she'd have made some excuse to come home with me.

Day didn't shut up all the way back to her house, but I couldn't tell you what she said. My mind was spinning, imagining the extraction team debriefing Yates and Father G. Maybe they had a backup plan to save me, but in one week, it wouldn't matter.

42

Roik dropped me at my house, then took off. I walked in, thrown to find Gerard had left early and Dad was home for dinner, until I saw the turkey on the kitchen counter. It was Thanksgiving or the day that used to be Thanksgiving before Scarpanol killed it and Congress buried it so people wouldn't have to suffer four days of mourning families that didn't exist anymore.

Gerard had set the table with flowers and a tablecloth. Dad and I helped ourselves to the meat, and cranberry sauce, and sweet potato casserole. Dad tried to make conversation, but I could barely talk and I definitely couldn't eat. Finally, he gave up.

Later, Dusty shadowed me around my room with her stuffed monkey, Cheech, hanging out of her mouth. I scooped her into my arms. “What am I going to do now, Dusty? What am I going to do?”

The secret phone hummed in my purse and I grabbed for it. “Come out on the balcony,” read the message. I hurried to the back balcony and eased the door open. Dusty ran though my feet, almost tripping me.

I stared into the darkness beyond our pool. The yard dropped off so the back fence ran along the street below our house.

A light blinked at me through the hedge. I pressed Yates' number and he immediately picked up.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” I said. Was he insane? “How did you get past the gatehouse?”

“I rode in in a friend's car. Check out my disguise.” A big, wet, black nose and slobbery tongue filled the cracked screen.

It felt good to smile. “Great disguise. So you're a mixed breed?”

“I'm a neighbor walking his dog.”

“Oh, now I get it.”

“Come down and say hello.”

I shouldn't.
Ferris was on patrol tonight, but it looked like he was probably up front. “Give me a minute.”

I tucked the phone in my jeans. “Ball, Dusty, ball. You want to play ball.”

Dusty dropped Cheech and bolted for the stairs. She plowed into the kitchen and did doggy pirouettes at the back door as I picked her ball off the shelf.