A Girl Undone (36 page)

“All right.” My feet carried me forward like they were acting on their own. Hawkins walked toward me, a smile on his face.

Deeps kept talking in my ear. “I don’t want you more than eight feet away from me at any time.”

“Okay.” Hawkins had no idea what I was about to do. If we were lucky, Jouvert would fall, but if not—

“And don’t eat any food unless I give it to you,” Deeps said.

“Okay.”

“And that goes for drinks, as well.”

I felt like I might stop breathing.

“What did I just say?”

I gave a dramatic eye roll. “Blah blah blah. Don’t have any fun.”

He let my joke evaporate into the air. “I have your back, Avie,” he said quietly. “I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

We’d stopped just out of sight of the photographers below. “Thank you, Deeps.”

Hawkins came up to us, and Deeps stepped away as Hawkins reached for my hand. “You’re shivering.”

I nodded. “Nerves.”

“Well, you look fantastic. That dress is quite flattering. Shall we?”

We stepped out from behind the wall and stood at the top of the curved acrylic staircase. Hawkins waved and cameras flashed like a fireworks display. The suspended stairs quivered under our feet as we walked to the step halfway down where Sig had prepped us to stop.

The photographers jostled each other to get their shots.

“Look here, Avie!”

“Over here, Avie!”

“Give us a smile!”

I struggled to remember my instructions. Turn and face Hawkins, then arrange the train so it’s in clear view. Place my left hand on his chest, look over my left shoulder, and smile.

I took a centering breath, gave the train a tug to fan it out for the cameras, and beamed.

Cameras flashed in my face, blinding me, but I didn’t care. Women around the country would read the hidden message, and when the news story about what Maggie’d uncovered about the Paternalists broke, they’d know the reporters had told the truth.

And these women would tell their husbands and sons there was more. They’d start the country talking about Jouvert and the deal he’d made with the Saudis for weapons, about Sparrow and the coverup surrounding her death, and the Paternalist supporters smuggling girls and drugs through the White Gold Pipeline.

So many faces went through my mind. Maggie. Sparrow. Samantha Rowley. And Mom. She’d be so proud of me.

I straightened my shoulders and stood taller.

No matter what happened to me after this, I’d spoken.

Hawkins nodded for me to pivot and we continued down. The cameras and shouted questions faded into a hum.

Sig and Adam Ho flanked us as Hawkins and I stepped off the stairs. I posed and smiled as I was told to, but I barely heard the reporters’ questions or Hawkins’ answers.

It wasn’t until Sig and Deeps had put me in the elevator that it hit me.
What did I just do?

“
VPOTUS
will arrive in ten,” Deeps told Sig.

“So Vice President Jouvert is right on time.”

I felt the blood leave my head. Deeps threw an arm around me as I started to wobble. “No,” Sig said. “No passing out in the elevator.”

They rushed me into the bedroom. “Keep breathing, Avie,” Deeps said.

“It’s too tight. The dress is too tight. Please unzip me.”

They stripped the dress off, and Sig threw my robe over me as Deeps sat me down on the bed. I dropped my head between my knees.

“You’re doing great,” Deeps said. “Take a minute. Collect yourself.”

I felt hot and then cold, remembering the night I’d seen Jouvert in Vegas. How he’d walked in with Sparrow in her skintight purple dress, her eyes made up like bird wings, and her hands all over him.

Jouvert destroyed her reputation, but I wasn’t Sparrow.

Jouvert would not destroy me. I would not let him.

Sig picked the dress up off the floor. “I’m going to hang this up.”

I kept my head down until I felt it begin to clear. Deeps handed me a bottle of water. “Drink up. It’ll help.” I took a long drink.

“How are you doing out there?” Sig called.

I got up. “Better. I’m ready to put on the Signing dress.” I walked into the dressing room, where Sig had hung up the pink dress. He’d taken off his jacket and was doing something with the lining. Then I realized that even though the train was still attached to the back of the dress, he’d stripped the embroidered panel off it.

I fingered the tiny strips of Velcro that had held it in place.
What the hell?

He touched a finger to his lips and I realized what he was zipping into the lining of his jacket.

I nodded.
Do it.

So much passed between us in just one look. The hug we didn’t dare because Deeps was right outside. The satisfaction we shared from completing Maggie’s work and clearing Sparrow’s name. The sorrow we carried from losing them and others.

“Five minutes,” Deeps called.

Sig went out, leaving me to slip into the white dress. In the full-length mirror, I saw my face emerge from the silver brambles. I was a warrior, powerful, invincible, and yet undeniably feminine.

I picked up my heels, and padded out to the room, where I saw them in the short hall by the door.

I’d been so quiet, they almost didn’t hear me. Now I caught the last moments of something in the sad and tender look Deeps and Sig gave each other, the way their hands fell away, and their bodies drew apart.

I almost couldn’t speak. “You’re right, Sig,” I said, quietly. “This dress is perfect.”

Seeing me, Deeps shook his head, and jerked back from Sig, who tried to stop him. “Trust her. She won’t say anything.”

Deeps waited, his eyes begging me to say that was true.

“You don’t have to worry,” I said.

Deeps nodded and his shoulders relaxed. Then he said, “I’ll be right outside,” and escaped into the hall.

“This is not what you think,” Sig whispered, and I held up my hand.

“It’s okay.” Sig hadn’t crossed to the dark side, and if there was anything I’d learned on this journey, it was how love can take you by surprise. “It’s really none of my business.”

“Very well, then,” Sig said. “Very well.” Sig took the pale blue heels from my hand, and knelt down, so I could step into them. Sig fastened the slender straps at my ankles, and then stood up. “Are you ready?”

Sig’s eyes brimmed with compassion. I pulled in a deep breath and found my center. “Yes, yes, I’m ready.”

49

The terrace was packed with men. Dad and I waited in the hall just off it for the processional music to begin. He was trying to keep things light by telling me a story about Dusty chasing a Frisbee right into the pool, when he reached for his jacket pocket. “Almost forgot. I think this might be for you,” he said, and handed me a postcard addressed to August Reveare.

“But it’s got your name on it.”

“Look a little closer.”

The message was for “A,” which could have meant either Dad or me, but I didn’t recognize the handwriting even though one glance told me it was a guy’s.

“Locals tell me this is the best fishing in the state. I’ll let you know if they’re exaggerating, L.”

Luke!

The photo credit said it was a shot of Montana’s Blackfoot River. I flipped over the card, and saw a river so clean and clear that the light shone through it to the bouldery bottom. Tall pines climbed a steep rocky slope below a cloudless blue sky.

“You’re smiling,” Dad said. “Someone you know?”

I handed Dad back the postcard, still smiling, because Sig had gotten it right; Luke was in a good place. “Nope, nobody I recognize.”

Dad pocketed the card, and then took my arm as the strings played the first notes of Bach. I felt the blood rush from my cheeks, and I told myself to breathe, grateful Dad was there to hold me up. Then the song reached the part where we were supposed to enter, and his grip got tight.

“Dad, I’m starting to lose feeling.”

He gave me a tense smile. “Sorry about that.”

Deeps stepped in front of us and opened the door. “You can relax,” he said. “I’ll be right behind you.”

Outside, the guests cleared an aisle for me to the podium, where Hawkins stood beside Adam Ho. Hawkins’ guests began to clap as I walked into the sunlight. I scanned the crowd for Sig, who seemed to have disappeared, and spied Jouvert to my right.

Jessop was tall, but Jouvert had at least six inches on him. His green eyes looked me up and down, and I felt my muscles tighten, ready to turn and run.

I swallowed and glanced up at the sharpshooter standing guard. “Doing great, honey,” Dad said in a desperate, teeth-clenched whisper.

I turned my gaze to Hawkins, the unstoppable enormity of the moment now scaring the hell out of me. He gave me a tiny nod like a promise that I could trust him, and I let his eyes pull me forward.

Up on the podium, the Contracts flapped in the breeze. Dad would be my legal witness and Adam Ho would be Hawkins’.

Two matching Montblanc fountain pens lay in their presentation box, waiting for us. Jessop and I were to sign two Contracts, turning each page and writing our initials, and then our full legal names at the end. We were supposed to initial each page, then pass it to the other to sign in perfectly choreographed harmony.

At the podium, Dad let go of my arm. His smile faltered and I wanted to throw my arms around him, and cry, “Let’s get out of here.”

But instead, I gave him my strongest smile.
It’s okay. It’s going to be okay.

Jessop offered me the presentation box, and I removed my pen. My heart beat like a frightened bird. Hawkins set down the box, opened his Contract, and initialed the first page and passed it to me. I stared down at the paper.

I don’t want to sign this. I didn’t agree to this.

“Avie?”

He already owns me, I told myself.
This is better than the Contract he signed with Dad. He took out the parts about transferring ownership. I can divorce him in ten years.

Jessop set his finger by the place I was supposed to initial.
I acknowledge these changes———.

AFR. That’s all I had to write. My initials didn’t mean anything except that I saw what had changed.

I twiddled the pen between my fingers and it flew out of my hand. Dad bent down and picked it up. He could barely look at me as he handed it back.

I’m being ridiculous, I thought. I scribbled AFR and handed the Contract to Jessop who looked irritated, but relieved.

We passed the papers back and forth. AFR. AFR. AFR. What did it matter if I signed this?

Then we got to the last page. “Aveline
Felicity
Reveare” was printed right below the blank line for me to sign. I stared at Mom’s name in the middle of mine. Mom would have fought this with all her heart. She would never, never have let this happen even if she had to wrestle the Contracts out of Hawkins’ hands.

I glanced at the sliver of horizon beyond the crowd, and drew in a steadying breath.

Hawkins signed his signature with a flourish and handed it to me. I set my pen down on the paper.

No,
I wrote on the signature line on his copy, then I took mine, and scratched
No
again in even bigger letters, and I handed them both to Hawkins.

For a moment he was very still, and then he turned to the crowd. “We have a Contract!” The guests began to clap. Hawkins pulled me in for a quick kiss on the cheek, squeezing my hand so hard, I thought he might break a bone. Hawkins didn’t let go as Adam Ho stuffed the Contracts into the ceremonial leather portfolio.

Servers came out on the terrace, carrying trays of champagne. As they began to hand out the glasses, I saw Deeps’ eyes grow big. He looked at one of the Secret Service men, who nodded at him.

“Mr. Hawkins, you and Aveline need to come with me,” Deeps said. He hurried us across the terrace, glancing left, right, and then up along the roof. “We’ve received word of a credible threat so we’re moving you and Vice President Jouvert to the safe room while we determine if this is real.”

Behind us, Jouvert was asking his men for details. “What kind of threat? Is this a bomb?”

“No, sir, a shooter.”

We hustled down the hall. Deeps opened the safe room, and got us inside. “I’ll remain with the vice president while you address the threat,” he told the Secret Service. I heard Deeps give them a communications channel to use, and a code for the door, but not the same one he taught me.

Deeps suspects them?

The fluorescent lights slowly brightened, their light intensified by the brushed-steel walls. Hawkins and Jouvert looked at each other, and I realized how much Jouvert loathed us. It was almost perverse that we were locked up together in a small steel room when Jouvert would probably celebrate if Hawkins was taken out, and vice versa.

“I apologize for the lack of comfortable seating,” Hawkins told the VP. “We can sit on the supply cases if you like.”

Jouvert waved him off. “We won’t be here for long.”

Deeps worked the control panel by the door and activated the screen in the back corner. Surveillance monitors showed agents directing guests off the terrace, and crowding them into the indoor pool room.

The big, black plastic cases holding emergency supplies that had been stacked under the screen had been moved over to the other corner.

“How about some water?” Hawkins asked Jouvert.

“Sure.” He watched the surveillance screen while Hawkins fiddled with the lock on one of the black cases. “The combination doesn’t work,” Hawkins muttered. I was focused on the screen, too, when I heard Deeps say, “Mr. Vice President, you need to get down on your knees.”

I spun around. Deeps was pointing a gun at Jouvert’s face.

“Fuck off,” Jouvert answered.

I saw him shift his stance. Jouvert was taller than Deeps, and I wondered if he was just crazy enough to rush him.

“Deeps,” Hawkins said, quietly. “What are you doing?”

“On your knees, sir,” Deeps repeated to Jouvert, his eyes never leaving Jouvert’s face.

Jouvert smirked as he lowered himself to the floor.