This chapter will be one of three in series. If it seems like I'm jumping around a little, well I am. Don't worry, I'll try to make it clear. Look on the bright side I'm keeping the perspective shifts to every other chapter so far. Still waiting for guess on chapter one's movie reference. Since I haven't gotten any guesses, I'll give you a second clue, it involves no shoes. Peace my friends.
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She didn't ask me how I'd gotten the beautiful old Bentley for the occasion. Even though she's transgenic like me, somehow her wonderful ex had instilled some silly code of ethics in her, a very untransgenic-like idea of right and wrong. Honestly, its not like I'd "borrowed" the car from a poor person, and it isn't as if I don't plan on returning it.
For some reason she's decided that we aren't going to argue with each other anymore. I don't know why she's acting this way; reticent like if she yells at me she'll break me. I don't miss the getting punched in the nose but god I miss the fire in her when she gets all riled up. Half the reason for taking the car was getting a reaction out of her, but she'd only raised an eyebrow and given me a half there, half gone smile.
I glance at her out the corner of my eye and
can't help smiling in pride at how gorgeous she looks all dolled up like
that. In the running and screaming press to get out of the party, the
hairspray had finally given it up and her hair now lay in gorgeous tendrils
across her pale face. She'll be okay; I have enough medical training not
to be worried about her. All she needs is a few pints of blood and it'll
be easy enough for me to provide it for her once we get home. Keeping one
hand on the wheel I reach out and take one of her small hands in my own.
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I take her small hand in my own, squeezing it once for reassurance as I help
her out of the car and toss the keys to the young pimply faced valet. The
valet gives both my girl and my car a once over and sighs before my glare sends
him sliding into the drivers seat and speeding away. She shivers lightly
beside me, though I can't say whether it's from the damp chill of a Seattle evening or overwrought nerves. Me, I'm nervous
as hell, but I've been trained for scenarios like this. Max may be every
bit as good at the knock down, drag out fighting, but this is my domain. I squelch the feelings of pride, definitely
shouldn't be taking pleasure in knowing how to stalk my prey, how to make the
kill before they even feel the danger.
"Are you there handsome?" The whisper of her fingertips against my cheek shakes me out of my reverie. My cheeks flush in shame at the direction my thoughts had been taking, but now isn't really the time to think about it. I flash my charm smile smoothly.
I am wealthy, I have money and confidence, old money perhaps, and so I have to play it subtle. I've chosen to wear no jewelry, save for a class ring from Stamford which I'd "borrowed" from a mark out in the still posh business district, and a pair of plain gold cuff links. My voice should be lower and less brash. Manticore had taught us to speak in the unaccented English of the middle states, but on escaping I'd chosen to adopt the rougher tones of the street. Alexander Harper would sound more refined, as would his lovely girlfriend Carmella Maritas. Max had whined endlessly at the senator for not putting her chosen name on the invitations, but she'd insisted that something so ethnic would lend an exotic air.
Balding and thick around the middle, the proper looking man at the door seems more concerned with making sure that we're appropriately dressed, than with looking carefully at the papers I presented to him. After a close inspection he waves us lazily through the grand entryway to the hotel, and I enter a world which I has been closed to me since my assassin years.
Visually, the lobby is simply stunning. On this special occasion the lights are dimmed and taper candles in finely wrought candelabrum sparkle brightly, reflecting in gilt mirrors. Strains of one of Vivaldi's concertos filter through from the ballroom, and the music draws me like a moth to the flame. I'm about to step through the entryway, when Max's deceptively strong hand, tugging not so softly on my sleeve, draws me up short.
"That's him over there." She tilts her head to one side, as if laughing at something I'm saying, and she tilts her chin sharply at the other side of the room. I silently curse myself out for not noticing him immediately, because he's not an easy man to miss. I'm not short by any means and this guy easily tops me by six inches. His frame is well fleshed out, once athletic and now becoming slightly flabby with the good living of his fifties. A shock of pale graying blond hair reflects the light like a signal beacon. He's surrounded by a half dozen young men, all hanging with disgusting intentness on every word he says. I note with interest that when approached by a curvaceous young blond, looking remarkably like the ones I used to date pre-Max, he turns coolly away and continues talking to his fan club. Not gay I think, but rather of the Sherlock Holmes method of thought, that women were merely consorts for weaker men.
"Doesn't look like the seduction routine works on Bradley. If we're going to separate it looks like we'll be better off with me trying to infiltrate his little circle of hanger's on." She continues scanning the room wearily, but nods her head at me. She lets out with a sudden, sparkling peal of laughter which startles me, before lowering her voice and speaking.
"In the meantime, I'll see what I can work out of the other senator's. Burnhart gave me a list of his cronies and political enemies, and I doubt that all of them will abstain from the fairer sex." I glare at her insinuation, but mostly I want to tell her to be careful. To speak it might be to jinx us though, so I bite my tongue. This might be the first mission we've gone on together which shouldn't even have the possibility of involving firearms. She laughs at my obvious discomfort and gives me a little kiss on the cheek.
"I know, don't say it. I promise to be careful. Besides, what's the worst that could happen?" I let her leave with that particularly damning statement. When oh when would she learn not to tempt fate.