Page 134 of Hide and Keep

Fitting my hand to the small of her back, I guide Ever forward.

As we’re approaching the futuristic house, Bradford in the lead, an artificial female voice says, “Welcome, Bradford Hoffman,” then proceeds to greet each of Ever’s friends by first and last name. The blinking doorbell cam comes into view, greeting, “Welcome, Ever Munreaux,” and finally, “Welcome, guest,” to me.

“Facial recognition,” Topher says flatly. “We got that two years ago.”

I guess I wasn’t important enough to add to the list.

The front door floats open by itself.

That’s not possible…and yet nobody appears on the other side of it.

What in the horror movie shitshow is this? Swear to fuck if fog rolls in right now…

I tug on Ever’s elbow, getting in front of her and halting her advance to let the clones go in first. If they start dropping like flies, we’re out.

“What is it?”

“Safety protocol,” is all I say, watching as each clone crosses the threshold unharmed.

“It’s a smart house, Major. No human assistance required.” She sidesteps me with an equally unimpressed sigh like this is allsocommon. Maybe to her, but not to me. I’ve never seen a smart house. I didn’t even know that was a thing.

Following Ever inside, we pause in a grand foyer, under a shimmering chandelier that’s gotta be at least seven feet long. Interspersed between all the tuxes and gowns are several robotic servers with different selections of food and drinks on their trays. People grab from them without concern, like it’s also normal.

And now I’m feeling like I’m in a different kind of horror movie, one where robots take over the world and humans let them because if we’re too goddamn lazy to get the door, then we’re definitely not fit to battle machines.

“My dearest daughter,” Arthur croons, his eyes as sparkly as the light above us when he takes in his daughter’s appearance from head to toe and back. Arms out wide, he gives her a half hug that doesn’t even reach her back and a pair of cheek-to-cheek kisses that don’t make contact either.

It’s the happiest I’ve seen him around his successor and I have to wonder if it’s the fakest, too.

Holding Ever by the shoulders, Arthur tells her, “You look just like your mother,” with what might possibly be real emotion tinging his voice.

But all Ever does is give a tight smile, keeping her usual bitchiness to a minimum.

My boss doesn’t even acknowledge me, only Ever’s friends. After some small talk, the clones scatter into the sea of glamorous attire.

“Now.” Arthur straightens his jacket lapels before holding one elbow out for Ever, and so quietly I’d miss it if I weren’t standing so close, he whispers, “Showtime.”

He leads her around, making introduction after introduction. Meanwhile, I remain three to four feet behind them, my head down, eyes on the floor but out to the side, surreptitiously on Ever so I can gauge her comfort level. As soon as I see her hands go behind her back, I shuffle closer, bumping into her with a mumbled apology as if the crowd caused our collision.

She instantly grabs hold of my wrist and I have to pretend to contemplate the plate of hors d’oeuvres rolling by. Luckily, they look good—mini lobster rolls on single pieces of bibb lettuce and half-dollar-sized crab cakes—because I don’t know how I’d pull off being interested in caviar or steak tartar. Fucking yuck.

Since the robot waiter doesn’t stop and Ever hasn’t let go, I just pivot so we’re back to back, my arm between us. I look fucking stupid but Ever’s needs supersede my own and right now she needs her rocks.

The Munreauxs are talking to some gray-haired man named Penn Larson who hasn’t shut up since he approached.

“Ah, Mallory, come meet Ever,” I hear him say.

I’m just about to tune out when a male voice says, “My pleasure.”

Suddenly, Ever’s hand not only releases me, but pushes me away.

I turn to see a different guy kissing that same hand. Who the fuck is this? So far, all these wealthy fucks have kept it to just shaking Ever’s hand or doing the fake double-cheek-kiss thing, but this motherfucker’s really kissing her hand, his lips on her actual fucking skin.

“Mallory. Nice to finally meet,” Ever greets with a dip to her head. “I’ve heard so much about you.”

He’s Mallory? I assumed Mallory was a chick.

“And I you.” This is punctuated withanotherkiss to Ever’s hand before he returns to his full height. “Although…gossip didn’t do you nearly the justice it should’ve. You’re positively resplendent.” He follows that up with a head-to-toe scan, much like Arthur’s, but with a hollowing of his cheeks as well.

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