Chapter 1
"Hmmm…Layer it a little more, I think, and then put in the highlights."
The scissors snipped quietly around my ears, and then the voice of the hairdresser answered my companion: "I was thinking, ma'am, that perhaps two-tone highlights would be better? Bring out the eyes, add a little color…"
Flat gray eyes looked me over studiously. "…Fine, two-tone. What exactly were you thinking?"
This was torture. I hadn't sat in a salon chair this long since…well, since Feliks had decided that my hair was "too bland" and had forcibly dragged me out to get it "fixed". I couldn't believe women did this. Frequently.
Right, I guess you have no clue what's going on…Well…
~A few hours ago~
I had just finished dressing and was starting on my first cup of coffee when the doorbell rang. Waiting outside were two members of the president's personal guard, who ushered me quickly into a car. They spoke reassuringly ("Madame President simply wishes to have a word with you, there is no danger"), but moved with a sense of urgency that spoke volumes about just what sort of news my boss wished to discuss. The tension set me on my toes, and I could feel my stomach starting to turn nervously.
The car ride was short and silent. I was led through a back entrance and straight to my boss' office. The darkly-paneled doors slammed shut behind my attendants, leaving me alone with my president and a few members of her guard. She didn't rise from her desk but motioned for me to sit, and I complied, waiting respectfully for her to begin our discussion.
"I apologize for waking you so early." Her face was relaxed, but when she smiled I could see that she was just as tense as me.
"I was already awake, it was no trouble."
"Have some coffee, please." A mug was already sitting on her desk, filled and steaming. She poured another and handed it to me. The warmth was reassuring and relaxed me a little, but as good as it smelled, my stomach was churning painfully and I couldn't stand to drink any of it.
I grew more and more anxious in the silence that followed, as she sipped her coffee and sifted through several forms lying on her desk. Finally, she broke the silence. "Now, Mr. Laurinaitis. I'm afraid our intelligence agents have detected a…threat to your personal safety. We do not wish you to be unduly concerned about this matter, but this threat is distinct, and there are some measures that we require you to follow until it has been resolved. Do you agree to follow all guidelines that we lay down for you in the coming weeks?"
I was gripping the coffee mug so tightly by now that I think it may've actually cracked. Pain was stabbing through my abdomen and I could feel a migraine coming on. A threat to my personal safety…? Who would be trying to harm a country? They must be pretty powerful if they think they can get away with it… "O-of course! Whatever I need to do, I'll do it, no exceptions!"
"Good!" The answer didn't come from the president, but rather from a young woman who had just stepped into the conversation. She wore a no-nonsense expression as she brushed a few stubborn-looking strands of dirty-blonde hair from her face and rested a heavy freckled hand on my tense shoulder. "Because we're going to be best friends until this all blows over." Her voice was low and mature-sounding, and, despite her diminutive stature (she only stood about 20 centimeters taller than me when I was sitting), it carried the steady self-assurance of someone who's used to ordering others around. She was obviously from higher in the ranks of the guard, and yet I'd never met her before.
My boss cleared her throat and spoke again. "Mr. Laurinaitis, this is Rasa Stankevičiūtė. She's going to be your personal attendant, advisor, and bodyguard until this threat passes. She has orders to provide you with anything you need and take whatever measures necessary to safeguard you. Please remember that your safety is her first priority and everything she does is to protect you, therefore you are to follow her advice without question."
"I'd like you to know a few things up front." The guard in question removed her hand and made sure I was looking up into her hard gray eyes. "First: we're changing location. You'll be staying with me in a flat on the outskirts of Vilnius. Everything's already been arranged, and we're moving in this evening."
Well, that wasn't so bad. If all I had to do was live in a little suburban flat for a month or two, I was sure I could get through this. I'd survived much, much worse before, after all.
"Second: we're going to need to change your appearance a good bit. We'll be getting you new clothes, a new hairstyle, and colored contacts to disguise your eye color." Alright, that was a little bit more burdensome, but not terrible by any stretch of the imagination. Once I got used to it I might even like it.
"Third: we'll be changing your name. From this day forth, your name will be…" She looked me over briefly, her ashen gaze taking in everything in a split second. "Viltė. There are a million Viltė's."
Wait…what? Sure it was a nice name, Hope, and traditional too. But… "Um…"
She answered sharply. "What is it?"
Her tone made me cringe, and I hesitated just a moment about asking the question. I knew I was supposed to be accepting her orders and advice, hands down, but this was just…odd. Surely she…made a mistake or something… "…I-isn't that a…girl's name…?"
"Bingo."
"Wait…you mean-"
A crooked smirk stretched across her features. "Exactly. As long as you're in hiding with me, you're going to be living as a woman."
0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0
I had been…a little shocked to say the least, but we had set out on our grand shopping adventure before I could even think to protest. But after thinking about it for a few minutes behind the tinted windows of the government car, I remembered my boss asking me to cooperate because in the end it was for my protection…And that's the reason that I was sitting so docilely in the salon chair, surrounded by the reek of hair chemicals, waiting for the highlights to set in my newly shorter-than-chin-length hair. This was…blasphemy. It had been the same length almost as long as I could remember, and I liked it that way. But I had to create my cover and keep it, as long as I needed to. I'd promised, after all, and I didn't want to be even more of a burden by getting myself hurt…
After an hour or so my throat was burning from the chemical dyes, and finally the salon worker reappeared to remove the foil and rinse my hair. The more soothing smell of shampoo surrounded me as she went to work with her hair dryer. Finally, the transformation completed, she wheeled me in front of a mirror.
A stranger with warm hazel eyes stared back at me. Her short, light auburn hair fell in feathery layers around her face. Awe filled her face as her pale hand rose to touch the soft strands. "Wow…" I had worn my hair shoulder length since…well, as long as I could remember. And that was a long time. This was just…strange. Nice, but definitely very strange. My head felt too light.
"Viltė, come on, we don't have all day!" Having taken care of the bill, Rasa grabbed my exploring hand and pulled me out of the chair. "We still have a lot of shopping to do." She waved to the hairdresser before pulling me forcefully out of the salon and into a waiting car.
Shopping? A lot of shopping? This was feeling more and more like one of Poland's days of torture…Oh well. I had to get it over with eventually, and while she was very…assertive…Rasa wasn't nearly the self-centered attention whore that Feliks tended to be. Besides, it couldn't be that bad…
0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0
"Arms out, please." Rasa slipped the measuring tape around the middle of my ribcage before giving me a sharp, critical look. "And stop holding your breath like that. God, you're like a stubborn horse." I let out the breath completely. She took almost a minute to do her measurements, and even though no emotion showed in her gray eyes, after 30 seconds I was firmly convinced that she was enjoying watching my face turn blue.
"Alright, looking like a 75…C? Let's do C. Need you to look feminine, but we don't need to turn too many heads…" The last sentence was mumbled as if she realized I might need to hear it but was hesitant to voice her thoughts. She turned, whipping out a cell phone and dialing a number quickly, greeting whoever was on the other side in Dutch. The only sounds for the next few minutes were those of her murmuring and the cheery muzak filtering through the department store speakers.
I shifted my weight awkwardly, inspecting the chipped paint on the door to the dressing room. There was graffiti penciled on the door, over smudges that were probably earlier works of art. That didn't hold my interest for long, so instead I watched my protector as she spoke. She was shorter than me by a good four or five inches, but I felt certain she weighed the same or more. She wasn't fat at all, in fact she was probably in better shape than I was…it was more that she was sturdy-looking. She was big-boned, with wide shoulders and hips for her height. I felt certain that she must have a figure, but was dead set on keeping it hidden; the shirt she was wearing was at least 2 sizes too big. She turned abruptly and glared at me, and I just as quickly cast my eyes to the floor, feeling my cheeks burning slightly. Woops…I guess I stared a little too long…
Sigh…With each breath I could still feel the pressure of the measuring tape around my chest. I wasn't looking forward to this. At all. It was mortifying enough, as a man standing in a women's dressing room in the section of the store reserved for women's underwear, listening to my bodyguard-slash-advisor-slash-master of disguise (what should I call her anyways?) trying to push through some shady deal in Amsterdam-
I jumped as she snapped her phone shut with obvious satisfaction. "Alright, I've got something better on the way, but for now, you're just going to have to stuff them."
Stuff them? Wait…"Something better…?"
"You'll see. Now get that charming blush under control and look around with me." Like I could! It only got worse as she led me back into the forest of cotton and lace. "Christ," she muttered. "What are you, 14?"
Dieve, what did I do to deserve this…?
0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0
That was it. If I ever found out who exactly was threatening my safety, I was going to take their punishment into my own hands. Heads would roll.
And if he was male, he would most definitely be forced to go through something like this before his death. Maybe I'd send him out shopping with Feliks. That would be enough to shatter the sanity of any normal human.
"Do I really have to try on all of these…?"
"All of them. And I want to see every single outfit."
First: a fitted t-shirt and loose, dark jeans. The whole concept of me…with breasts…was just wrong on some basic level. It was just tissue paper, I knew that, but looking in the fingerprint-smudged mirror and seeing my own face on someone else's body was…very disorienting.
Rasa applauded (sarcastically, I assume) as I shuffled out of the dressing room. "Hey, that looks pretty good Viltė. You almost look like you have a figure." She used the new name often, trying to get me used to it, I guess. "I knew it. Warm colors really bring out those new highlights."
"But…" I looked a little plaintively down at the shirt and was faintly surprised when my view was blocked; this would take a lot of getting used to. "I've never even been to the Costa del Sol…"
"Doesn't matter. It's cute and flattering. You're buying it." Her voice rang with a stern sort of finality. I'd been protesting all day and had learned quickly that when she sounded like that, there really wasn't any point arguing. "Next outfit!"
6 pairs of jeans, 3 t-shirts, 4 blouses, and a dress later I was absolutely exhausted. Too exhausted even to worry about the impending threat to my safety or staying undercover. I really just wanted a nap…I had woken up way too early, and I'd been feeling too sick to drink any coffee. Just a few minutes…the sofas in the store were far from comfortable, but they'd do…just a power nap and then back to…whatever it was I was even doing here…
"Hey, no sleeping!" I cracked my eyes open and was met by a storm-gray gaze showering me with disapproval. She was fresh from the checkout line: bags hung from her hands and arms, filled with the day's spoils.
Might as well give it a try…I let my eyes slip shut again. "Just a few minutes…"
She grabbed my shoulder; her grip was almost painful. I was definitely awake now, and she was close. I could smell cigarettes and coffee on her breath. "Women don't sleep in a place like this." Her eyes glinted sharply. "You know what they do?"
I was a little afraid to hear the answer. "…What do they do?"
"They get an energy shot, and they keep going. On your feet, soldier!"
And we moved on.
0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0
I instantly felt a little better once I was surrounded by casual café décor and the warm scent of coffee. Unfortunately, none of this had any effect on my companion. She sat on the stool across from me, tense and silent, her eyes skimming over every person who walked by. When our number was called she jumped down quickly from the stool and was already halfway to the counter by the time I thought to move. I could tell she was far from comfortable in the crowded café…maybe if I could draw her into a conversation she might loosen up some.
She presented me with my sandwich and dark roast and took her place back on the stool, protein shake in hand.
The coffee was wonderfully strong, and the caffeine made me feel a little less like a zombie. The sandwich was definitely subpar for 13 litų, but I had been running for 10 hours on a McDonald's chicken biscuit, and I desperately needed the calories. While I practically fell on my food, she sipped her shake daintily and watched the crowds walk by outside, remaining uncomfortably silent. Finally, after the infusion of carbs and caffeine, I decided I felt up to the challenge of breaking the ice…
"…Stankevičius, right?" She looked up questioningly and I continued. "Dovydas?"
She seemed to think carefully about whether or not to answer. "…Yeah, he was my uncle."
"We worked pretty closely together, back in the 80's." I smiled slightly. "He was a good man. Great sense of humor, although his timing could have been a little better…"
A question rose in her eyes, and I thought I knew what it was; however, she remained silent, tactfully choosing to search her memory for any mentions of me, and it seemed that she found one. With the connection established, she offered me a small, tight, crooked smile. "Yes, I seem to remember that he had a bad habit of telling jokes precisely when no one wanted to hear them."
Well, she answered me. It was progress. "The worst was when Glasnost and Perestroika were just beginning to be implemented…" I let my smile widen as I recalled the memory. "Everyone in the government was stressed out and exhausted, and Dovydas came in every day, somehow well-rested and in good spirits, telling these horrible jokes to everyone he came across. And when they snapped, he just laughed it off and told them to loosen up."
She grinned, her shoulders relaxing slightly. "That sounds just like him."
"Of course, when things got serious, he worked just as hard as anyone else, maybe harder…" I shook my head; it amazed me to this day. "I really don't understand how he did it."
"Bureaucracy runs in the family." She was quiet for a moment or two, sizing me up, before looking at me and smiling that crooked smile again. "You know what, Viltė? I think we're going to get along just fine."
Mission break the ice: successful.
"Now finish up. It's getting late, and we still need to run by your house and my apartment."
0*0*0*0*0*0*0*0
I was a little surprised to see that the flat was already furnished (quite nicely, it might be added), waiting for us with the lights on and the beds made. Rasa glanced over the place once, looking a little uneasy in the new setting, but she quickly pushed it down and walked through the doorway as if she'd lived there all her life.
The living room was painted in warm colors, and the dark hardwood floor reflected the light softly, comfortingly. A flat screen TV hung on the wall, quietly displaying the evening news. The plush sofa looked divinely comfortable to my tired eyes, and I was ready to collapse on it and fall asleep then and there. But because we had stopped briefly at my house, I had actually gathered a box or two of personal effects that were sitting in the car, waiting to be carried in and unpacked. I was sure Rasa had some things as well…and I'd really rather not leave them out there all night…
Rasa's freckled hand on my shoulder kept me from going back outside. "Don't worry about it. I had to run you ragged today, you deserve all the sleep you can get." She nodded towards the adjoining master bedroom. "Go ahead and go to bed. I'll take care of all this."
"Labai ačiū…"
"Prašom."
The bedroom was cooler, more neutral colors than the living room…light blue walls, off-white carpet. Moonlight shone through the silvery curtains. Pushing them aside, I could see Rasa standing on the front step, looking for that brief moment as tired as I felt; a cigarette hung between her fingers, glowing rosily. I let the curtains fall back. I felt like I was intruding. Besides, I was so tired…
I got ready for bed in an exhausted haze. Shirt: off. After a few seconds of fumbling with the clip, the bra (so strange…) joined it on the floor. Tissue paper fell everywhere…oh well. It could wait until tomorrow. The jeans were new and uncomfortable, so I took them off as well.
It had been a warm summer, good boxer weather. The sheets were cool and comfortable and smooth; the thread count must've been sinfully high. They smelled new, like whatever department store they'd come from, but it didn't bother me too much. I couldn't care less. I welcomed anything more comfortable than a wet stone floor.
My tired mind registered the sounds of Rasa moving around in the living room, unpacking box after box. It was a comforting sort of white noise, and I quickly slipped into oblivion.
Notes:
Dieve - God
Labai ačiū - Thank you
Prašom - You're welcome/my pleasure
13 litų - About $5
My only help with Lithuanian pronunciation is that the weird s is "sh", the weird c is "ch" and the weird e is like the "eh" sound in "play". I'm sorry, that's really all I know! *shot*
I really have no clue what sort of protection agency the Lithuanian government employs, but they must have something right? I mean, no country lets their politicians go around unguarded. I'm just...not sure what they call theirs. ^^"
Stankevičius and Stankevičiūtė are the same last name, just in male and (unmarried) female forms.
Anyways, I hope you enjoyed it! Constructive criticism is always welcome, and every review makes me do the happy dance. :3
~Erisu Koumei