Chapter 14: Dinner Party
The absolute last thing I wanted to do was go to a dinner party. The way I saw it, the less I talked to these people the better. This was supposed to be a day of downloading the contents of Todd Eldridge's laptop and searching his office. Instead of being able to investigate the principal, we're stuck making small talk with a bunch of co-workers. I have zero interest in getting to know these people; they're simply extras in Alex and I's mission. What I want is to just get this shit over with so I can get away from MI6 and get back to my real life...whatever that is. Come to think of it, I haven't heard a single thing from Oxford, so who even knows if I'm still enrolled there. Oxford has many prerequisites, but murdering someone on its campus probably isn't one of them.
Alex pulls up next to a house, which already has about a dozen cars out front. "Ready?" he asks. I nod. We're too close to the party to say anything confidential. I take a deep breath while I run my fingers through my hair. It doesn't even feel like my own. Before I left Washington, I had gotten it dyed honey blonde and chopped it just above my shoulders. I am also wearing bland brown contacts to conceal my green eyes and have a clear orthodontic retainer to ever-so-slightly alter my speech. My dad has always been strict about changing my appearance before missions. When I was younger it used to be fun, almost like a game of dress-up. However, instead of ball gowns and my mom's costume jewelry, I had my hair ruined by the dye and the constant haircuts and extensions, and worst of all, it's not like I could just end the game, take off my sparkly dress, and see myself staring back at me in the mirror.
Alex puts his arm around my shoulders as we walk into the house. Even though it's a warm, dry August night in Texas, I still shiver a little.
We get inside and there is a flurry of introductions and offerings on food and drink. Once we're finally able to break away from the group, Alex pours himself a shot of vodka. "Lucky bastard," I mutter. Next to us, a stereo plays some country song I'd never heard before.
"No way in hell I'm getting through this sober. Good luck though," Alex teases, tossing back his shot. I laugh, scanning the room with my eyes. I stop laughing the second I see him-Todd Eldridge. I motion for Alex to lean down. His 6'2 is not exactly compatible with my 5'5.5 (that I of course always round up) but me whispering in his ear probably looks couple-y anyways.
I motion towards Eldridge with my eyebrows. He's sitting on a couch about 15 feet away, with his back turned to us. There are a couple other teachers around him-I recognize them from mission prepping-and between them all is a laptop. "I want that laptop," I smile into Alex's ear, making sure my voice is lower than the music, "This party may be worthwhile after all."
"I will be getting them very, very drunk," Alex assures me, "Follow my lead." However, before we can offer the group a round of shots, Theresa comes out of absolutely nowhere and pulls us both into a hug.
"I am SO happy y'all made it," she exclaims, squeezing the life out of me, "Now come on, Eloise, be a dear and come chat with the girls and me!" She motions at the 'girls' who consist of six women sitting cross-legged on the floor, all with wine glasses in front of them. Chatting with the girls feels like my idea of hell, but I allow myself to get whisked away by Theresa.
"Allen, honey, feel free to drink as much as you like tonight, I'm driving," I giggle, attempting to tell him to continue with the plan we had just made. Alex simply smiles and makes the universal scuba diving symbol for 'okay,' by putting his thumb and index finger in a circle. Now all I need to do is trust him to handle this.
I should probably admit something-as confident as I may have come off, I have certainly never pretended to be pregnant for a mission before so I still kind of have absolutely no idea how this works. I had talked to my mom before we left DC, as she is definitely the expert here, but there is only so much theory you can learn about something like faking a pregnancy.
I keep stealing glances over at Alex. I'm sure he'll be fine. I mean-he's made it this far, right? He can't still be alive based on luck alone. He's gotten the whole group of teachers, including Todd, to partake in a raucous drinking game. On one glance backward, he catches my eye and winks while tossing another shot back.
"Eloise," Theresa calls out, bringing me back to reality, "When are you due?"
"Well, I'm about 16 weeks along, so I'm due around…" I do some quick math realizing I COMPLETELY forgot to consider this beforehand, "Early February."
"That's a great time to have a baby," the woman across from me smiles, "My second was born February 5th." I nod, looking back at Alex once again. The woman clearly wanted me to ask further questions so she could brag about her children, but that's not why I'm here.
"What are you looking at?" another woman questions.
"She's looking at her husband-the new math teacher, Mr. Greenwald," Theresa outs me, "Why, isn't he just gorgeous?" The other women murmur in agreement. My face goes red instantly.
"Uhhh, yeah, he's pretty great." I choke out, reaching for my bottle of water severely wishing that it was alcoholic. Alex isn't gorgeous, he's...well he's just Alex! We're fake married for the next few weeks and then we're nothing. "'Scuse me, but where is the restroom? I swear this little one is making me pee already." The group laughs, probably more than they should, and Theresa points to her right. I stand up and bolt.
I'm sitting on the immaculate granite bathroom counter taking some deep breaths. I really hate having mission partners I really hate having mission partners I really hate-
I'm interrupted by a knock at the door. "Occupied," I mumble. This party is too much for me. I just want to get Eldridge's laptop and get the hell out of here.
"Eloise, it's me," Alex. I sigh and hop off the counter to let him in.
"You all good?"
"I'm fine, just wanted to make sure you were okay. I saw you run in here so I figured I'd follow."
"Thanks," I smile, "And I'm alright, just not a huge fan of parties."
"Well, that makes two of us. Or, actually, three of us," Alex gestures towards my protruding stomach, and we both laugh. "Anyways, I checked this place for cameras and microphones with the app Smithers put on our Apple Watches. There's nothing here. Eldridge is already wasted. Fucking lightweight. Once everyone picks up to leave, I'm going to say that he's probably too drunk to drive himself home and I'll see if someone can give him a ride. You make sure that he leaves all of his stuff here-his bag, his suit jacket, even his phone-and then grab the laptop as we're walking out the door. That way he'll look like a bumbling drunk who misplaced it somewhere along with the rest of his stuff."
"Alex, that's genius," I blurt out automatically.
"See? I'm not just pretty, I've got brains too," I roll my eyes.
I spend the rest of the party apart from Alex. He's getting Eldridge wasted to the point of blacking out and I'm making random pregnancy-related small talk to most of the women at this party. If I have to hear another goddamn birth story I'm going to lose my absolute mind. What is it with mothers and taking every opportunity to talk about their children-and only their children! If I have to hear the words "placenta" or "birth canal" or "contractions" again I damn well may just shoot the place up. I'm a feminist goddamnit; it's great if you have children, but you're still a person outside of them. Have a personality, please! I truly don't care that you were on bed rest for a month with your second son-give me interests, hobbies, passions, weird fetishes. Something, anything I can work with!
Throughout the night, I have been skillfully misplacing Eldridge's items. His coat on the grand piano a couple rooms away; his cellphone between the couch cushions; his briefcase underneath the table full of food; his laptop in my oversized purse. Hell, I had even managed to put his shoes upstairs in Theresa's husband's closet after Eldridge took them off to dance on one of their coffee tables holding a bottle of tequila. It was actually pretty hilarious and I made sure to snap a video-you never know when you might need blackmail material on the person you're investigating.
Finally, the teachers begin to leave. I am honestly kind of horrified at the amount of alcohol they have consumed considering they need to go and teach America's Youth tomorrow, but I never went to public school officially, so maybe that is just how they cope. Alex puts an arm around my shoulder. "You all good, Eloise?" While it sounds like he's simply asking if I'm ready to leave, his message is crystal clear. I nod. "Alright, well, I lost the coin toss so it looks as though I get to carry Eldridge out to Rob Newman's car. I'll come back for you so we can walk out together. How's that sound, Honey Pot?"
I can smell the alcohol on his breath. "Sounds great, Dream Boat."
Alex jogs over to Eldridge and hoists him over his shoulders in a fireman's carry. From a distance they just appear to be old pals, buddying around. Alex and a man I assume to be Rob Newman walk out to a car parked three away from ours. Theresa puts an arm around me as I gaze at the boys outside. "Everything okay, Eloise?"
"Yeah, just a little tired," I give her a small smile. Gesturing towards my stomach, I say "I didn't expect this little one to wear me out so quickly." Theresa throws her head back and laughs like I've said the most groundbreakingly hilarious thing in the world.
"I remember when I was pregnant with my first daughter, I would basically rush home from work and take a three-hour nap until Josh came home. Just wait 'til little he-or-she is born and you'll miss the days of swollen stomachs and sore feet because you'll be up at four in the morning with a crying infant." There is, objectively, a lot to unpack here, starting with my hate for the gender binary, but that wouldn't exactly be in character, would it? However, I feel slightly refueled that someone has finally said one bad thing about motherhood, even if it's just stating the obvious. "So anyway," Theresa is still talking, "Are you and Allen going to figure out its gender? Oooh, do you think you'll have a gender reveal party?" And it's just like that where the one tolerable thing she said is instantly canceled out.
"Oh," I begin, attempting to tread extremely lightly, "Well we do want to know the sex of our child, but I think we'll wait a few weeks till they are a bit more developed. And honestly, I hadn't even considered a party, but if we have one, you'll surely be invited," I mentally cringe. Not one single person here has asked me anything except about my fake husband and child, and frankly, I'm frustrated about it. I get that I won't be here for more than a few weeks, but I would at the very least like to be treated like a person for that period of time.
Thankfully, I see Alex jogging back up to the porch to get me to walk to our car. I'm so relieved to see him, I almost forget about the fact that I'm relieved a man is here to save me not five seconds after an internal rant about feminism. "Okay if I steal her from you?" he asks Theresa, a smirk on his face.
She throws her head back again and laughs obnoxiously, "Why, she's all yours." Alex and I thanked her for the party and walked off to our car hand in hand before the party guests were any the wiser about what had just happened.
Once we're in the car and away from the party, I can finally breathe again. "I can't believe we pulled that off," I laugh breathlessly.
"Again, Ella, did you think MI6 just recruited me for my good looks and charming wit? You gotta have some faith in me. Seriously," his voice shifts, "I don't understand what I have to do to just get you to fucking trust me."
I stop the car in the middle of the road and turn to face Alex. "Jesus, I'm sorry. Yeah, okay, let me just completely put my life in the hands of a reckless teenage spy from a rival intelligence agency at the drop of a hat. I've been burned before by my own family," my voice is shaking, "You can't just expect me to trust you on the spot even though yes, you're objectively attractive and yes, you make me laugh. Neither of those things change the fact that I know next to nothing about you. I'm not naïve enough to think that just because we were both child spies we're going to hold hands and rise up and fight all the evil in the world together. I have a life to get back to after this. I'm not going to be stuck at MI6 in a dead-end job waiting around until it kills me, and I certainly am not going to die by trusting the wrong person."
"At the bare minimum, you could stop acting so shocked whenever I do something right. You're not the only one here who's had to rely on only herself. You have no right to be in charge of everything just because you've seen some shit. Yeah, it sucks, trust me when I say I know it sucks, but it's no excuse to treat me as someone lesser. I don't deserve that."
My face burns. I hate arguments. "I...I'm really sorry Alex. I didn't realize that's how I made you feel. I promise to be more conscious about it in the future. Please, I really don't want to fight with you anymore...Let's just get through this mission and forget we ever met."
Alex nods. "Apology accepted. I get it-it's really, really weird having someone like you-who's actually qualified and genuinely gets the whole child/spy/blackmail thing-as a mission partner, but we'll get through it," his voice softens, "And I don't want to forget we've ever met. Ella, you're...not the easiest person to get along with, but I respect the hell out of you anyways."
"Thanks," I give him a soft smile, "Hug it out?" he nods and leans over, and all is good again. "Now we should probably get out of the middle of the road." Alex laughs.
"Do you really think I'm attractive?" Alex asks after a few seconds.
"Drop it, Rider, don't fucking try me right now," I stew, though way less upset than before.
Soon, we're sitting down on our couch, furiously searching through Eldridge's laptop. It doesn't take long to find some sensitive-looking information, but unfortunately, most of it is very clearly encoded. We send it all to my mom and Ava, who basically run the CIA's Cryptography Department. I try to decode it, but after about 10 minutes I give up, frustrated.
"Why can't these just be like, in Arabic or something," I groan, "Languages are easy but I can't decode to save my life."
"Well, if they were in Arabic, only you and 400 million other people could translate it in an instant." I roll my eyes.
Alex and I must have fallen asleep, as we are woken up about three hours later by a fleet of cars screeching in front of our house. I rub my tired eyes and peek out the window. There are five black SUVs outside with a team of officers holding riot gear headed for the lobby of our apartment. Even though we know nothing about why these officers are here, we're pretty damn sure that it has something to do with us. We're on the fourth floor so we still have a couple of minutes before they get here. "Alex," I breathe, "Let's split up. Meet me at the CIA Headquarters in 72 hours," Alex nods, racing to put on his sneakers, "Godspeed," I mumble before racing into our second bedroom.
I emerge sixty seconds later to realize that Alex is already gone. I grab an empty purse, different from the one I'd used this morning, and ran around the room on Autopilot, grabbing anything that appeared useful. I had just reached into a drawer and grabbed a $20 bill when someone started banging on the door. "You have ten seconds to get out here and give me my laptop before I break down this door and blow your brains out!" I recognize the voice immediately. Todd Eldridge.
"10," he begins counting, yelling out the numbers.
"9," I pocket the $20 and grab the laptop.
"8," I make the split-second decision to sprint back into the bedroom.
"7," I grab a book of matches from my purse and light it all on fire.
"6," I toss it onto the blanket-filled bed, silently praying it'll catch fire.
"5," I take a breath and then another. This needs to work.
"4," One of the blankets is finally ablaze. I sigh with relief.
"3," The room begins to fill with smoke. I cough.
"2," I open the bedroom window with a shield of fire behind me.
"1," I jump.
Yes, this chapter was named after an episode of the office. No, I don't have any regrets.