Hopefully this chapter is a bit better. I have the last chapter finished but I'm not uploading it yet. R&R.
Disclaimer: I do not own Pokemon and am affiliated with any parties that do.
"Name?"
"July St. John."
The long, rectangular desk of the Hugh Towerton Country Club took up the middle of the main room, which was framed by thin panelled windows that surrounded the walls, letting in the fluorescent light. Outdoors, golf players gossiped about their wealthy friends while their caddies rushed about frantically.
Ethan Gold wrapped an arm around Lyra's hips, pulling her to the side. They smiled at the woman at the desk, who tapped away at her chrome desktop, eyes narrowed at the screen. Ethan cleared his throat, causing the woman to look up.
"It's under my name. Harris St. John Junior." Ethan winked surreptitiously at 'July' as the lady tapped away furiously.
Lyra loved her multiple identities. A few days ago, at the Cambridge Hall Benefit Ball, she was Isobel Wilkins, foreigner with special connections. She loved acting like a naïve yet lovely foreigner. Every time she thought about Isobel Wilkins, though, she thought about the boy at the party. She repressed a sly smirk, certain that she'd left some imprint on his mind.
"Oh, my. There it is. Harris St. John Junior, and his wife July St. John." The woman exhaled tiredly. "Terribly sorry, Mr. and Mrs. St. John." Her face had a look that said, My, you look much too young to be married!
"Harris," 'July' whispered loudly, placing her palm on his chest. "Our yoga class…"
"Oh, great." 'Harris' snapped his fingers, taking the aviators perched on his head and settling it in the opening of his shirt. "We're late."
The lady gasped, her eyes wide. "Oh, my! I'm so sorry-"
'July' sighed sadly, lowering her oversized glasses. Lyra hoped the woman had a good glimpse of her downcast light brown eyes. The lady turned red, shifting away and typing away on her computer. Lyra swerved Ethan towards the right hallway, arm in arm. They burst out in laughter, hands clasped on their mouths.
"Nice one, Lyra!" Ethan blurted out loudly. A caddy passed by, eyes wide at the supposed 'young couple'
"Sshh," she scolded, still giggling. "It's July, Harris St. John the Third!" She tucked her sunglasses down the opening of her geometric patterned halter sundress. Ethan winked at her flirtatiously, in a manner as if they both shared a secret, which they did.
"Oh sorry. Yesterday, you were Isobel Wilkins."
"Excusez-moi, you were Heath Barkley, grandson of the inventor sketchbooks. Of course, that's a clever identity, Harris."
"Well today, we are July and Harris St. John." Ethan said, momentarily squeezing Lyra's hands. She smiled, looking at his amber eyes playfully.
She adored Ethan. He was like a hotter male equivalent of Lyra. He was sweet, indulgent and hilariously fun to be with. In fact, they were clicked and looked so good with each other, all of their team suggested they go as the couple to Hugh Towerton, just because.
Yet, she couldn't help but grin on the inside about the redheaded boy at Cambridge. He was a inquisitive-but passing-dare to herself while she waited for her call at the benefit formal. Nothing else.
They walked down the halls with purpose, flashing a brilliant smile to whoever glimpsed at them. And a lot of people did, because they did look lovely together.
Ethan came to a abrupt stop when something in her pocket buzzed faintly.
"Text from Alanna." He explained, taking our his cell phone and opening the message. Lyra looked over his shoulder, eyebrows raised.
"Since when does Little A have a cell phone?" she quipped.
"A couple of months ago, I think." Ethan grinned, shrugging. They gave a quick chuckle before Ethan read out the message; "The guy's there. Look around, he may be with a girl named Yuki Somers. Paris says that there's a possibility he's either at the gym, restaurant or golf course. Good luck-A"
Ethan and Lyra looked at each other, exchanging knowing gazes.
"You take the gym and restaurant. I'll take the golf course."
"Why take the golf course?" Ethan asked, eyes wide with alarm. "If Mikael bolts, you won't catch up to him. No offense, of course."
"There's no way he'll bolt, my dear." Lyra unfolded her sunglasses, perching them on her perfectly messed updo hair. "Because they won't expect a striking girl."
Ethan smiled, starting to walk away. "Clever."
Lyra shrugged, as if it just came to her. Which it did. "I have my ways."
They parted, Ethan continuing farther down the halls, while Lyra strode with purpose towards the golf course. Her one-inch heels made it a little difficult to traipse down the perfectly manicured lawns, but she survived. All thieves were trained to survive the most difficult tasks with the most difficult attire.
Then she spotted him. Messed and naturally high-lighted dark blond hair, laughing with his golf cohorts. Not to far away, a woman with gorgeous dark hair that flowed down her back like a waterfall watched him attentively, with a boastful smirk on her lips. Lyra touched her hair involuntarily, remembering that she had temporarily dyed it a beautiful shade of maroon brown. When jobs got risky, you had to pull out your disguises. That was the fun part, Lyra thought.
Fixing her glasses to shade her eyes, she sauntered slowly towards the man, who was talking to his caddy lightly, chuckling. Lyra nodded towards the man's cohorts, who blinked in surprise and unpredictably stepped back a few steps. She giggled under her breath, amazed at what a slim sundress and designer glasses can do for a girl.
"Hello," Lyra cooed, her voice low and warm.
The dark blond man swung his golf club over her shoulder and grinned broadly. "My, look at this, Jim. To what do I owe the presence of a lovely young woman like you?"
Lyra smiled her crooked smile. "I was just watching your game, and you're quite the player."
"Can't say I disagree." The man burst into loud, booming laughter. At the corner of her eye, she sneaked a peek for Yuki Somers, who thrust her chin up in defiance.
"Your name…is Mikael?" Lyra questioned, her voice as if struggling to remember the name.
"Yes, pretty lady." Mikael's voice was still welcoming, but it was softly laced with suspicion.
"Lyra's the name," She said slowly, drawing out her words. "And I was just a bit curious."
"Curious 'bout what?" His buddies were now gone, off to the bar indoors for alcohol. Yuki Somers was now slowly approaching.
"A few things about a collection…"
Sweat formed on Mikael's brow. He was bouncing on his heels in an jumpy manner. His booming and cheery aura disappeared.
And then, he bolted.
Lyra just knew this would happen. Charms worked, but didn't prevail. Mikael's running figure was still large and visible. She kicked off her heels and ran after him, Yuki Somers fleetingly trailing her screaming Mikael's name.
The course was dewy and cooling underneath her feet, like menthol lacing around her toes. Mikael was far, but not far enough that Lyra could just boost her speed. Her heart pounded. She could call for backup. But she could barely breathe.
Three Cs, Ly. She reminded herself, Calm, cool, collected. You can handle this.
Mikael was heading towards trees. Lyra couldn't stop. One short breathing halt, and he'd be gone. She was getting close, but not close enough. Swallowing her complaints, she ran faster.
Just by luck, the sprinklers went off. She panicked, her heart racing. Her dye! It could not fade. There were tons of people at the Towerton golf course, and one reveal of her plain hair and she'd be busted by Mikael's unknowing cronies.
She was too busy fumbling with her hands to shield her hair when she noticed her involuntary boost in bolting caused her to be a mere ten inches way. Lyra tackled Mikael, pressing her heel on his head as she grabbed the contents of his pocket. Mikael grumbled, cussing as he pushed her off. She rolled off, Mikael's running foot accidently nudging her hard in the hard, making her land on the hard woodchips on the mini forest, filled with sickly thin trees.
She coughed, out of breath. Everything was sore, and she was sure something was bleeding. Spare woodchips stuck to her bright sundress. She groaned despairingly, trying to haul herself up. As her feet struggled against the uncomfortable woodchips, a golf ball flew over, smacking a tree and landing on her leg. Lyra flinched, hoping no one would come over.
When she finally stood up, leaning against the tree and brushing off the woodchips, someone was already padding over to the forest. It was too late for her to duck behind a tree.
She gasped to see who it was.
Blaze red hair neatly combed and in preppy clothes, the Cambridge boy was there. Lyra, who barely collected herself in time, smirked. Fate while she fell down? Possibly.
"You." He murmured, straightening his shirt as he picked up the ball.
"Yes, me. Drawn to me, much?" Lyra teased flirtatiously. He rolled his eyes, lingering there. He examined Lyra, taking in her wrinkled sundress and sprinkler-touched body.
"I saw you chasing that cocky guy."
"Curious?"
"No." He answered back. Lyra twirled the PDA of Mikael between her fingers, her eyes steady on the body.
"You got what you needed from him, or something?"
"I did, definitely. But you know what I need?" Lyra asked him. "Your name."
"Silver." He answered almost immediately. His face afterwards looked like he caught himself in a mistaken act. Lyra laughed a wind chime-like laugh as she released the clip from her hair, letting the maroon-brown waves tumble down. She shook her hair, the drops of water escaping.
"Divine name." Lyra winked before strolling out of the forest. "It's Lyra."
Lyra didn't have to turn around to see Silver's blank face, watching her go before walking away himself.