Page 61 of Massacre Monday
Her eyes flick between mine, as if she doesn’t believe me. “Of course! Sure. I’ll be your dirty little secret. Besides, how do I know you won’t just toss me aside like your last fiancé?”
Flames of irritation light up my back. “Because of what I’m about to do for you. Forus.” Reaching across the divide, I pick her up as she slashes at my arms with her black-painted fingernails. When I set her on my lap and latch my lips to her neck, she reluctantly melts against me. “I told you. I’m loyal to my girl. And you’re mine.”
As we approach the civic center alight with glowing orbs dancing slowly in the chilly October breeze, I grip her tighter and plead with her while pressing my forehead to her back. “Please, Pen. I need you. Be my partner-in-crime tonight.”
“What do you mean?”
I slip out of the car and, without the hesitation I was expecting, she takes my offered hand, then I tuck hers against my bicep as we walk across the red carpet toward the entrance,lined with local photographers. Leaning down, I whisper, “For this event, you’re only sixteen years old.”
“What? Why?” Her eyes grow large as she gazes up at me.
“And you’re my sister.”
We enter an ornate hall filled with extravagantly decorated tables in golds and creams. Vases of white roses shoot up to the gilded ceiling from the center of each round table. A six-piece orchestra and parquet dance floor stand in the middle of the room. Rotund politicians and their wives loiter, shaking hands and lying through fake smiles as I escort my dazzling date toward the man of the hour.
His gleaming bald head shines like a homing beacon, even after he wipes it carefully with an embroidered handkerchief. Hell must be catching up to him early. Polished and bored, his stately wife stands next to him, scanning the crowd. She’s probably a good twenty years younger than he is, but still twenty older than me. With the most predatory eyes I’ve seen in a good while, it doesn’t take her two seconds to spot me coming.
“Who do we have here? Mr. Ryan Cardell? Is that you?” Kier Frances says as we skirt past the folks circled around him, attempting to make nefarious political favors. His soft palm extends, and I take it, give it a rough shake, then tuck Pippi back into my side protectively.
“Yes, sir. I was sent with my father’s apologies. He and my mother had a prior engagement, a family matter they couldn’t escape. They were terribly sorry they couldn’t be here tonight for you, but I brought my sister instead.”
With a slight shove, I push Pippi forward into the ring of ogling old men. Kier’s dark eyes slowly sweep down her frame.
“This isn’tOlivia. I know her…”
“No, sir. This is myyoungestsister, Alice. She’s sixteen. Still in high school.”
Not even looking at me, he takes Pippi’s hand and lifts it to kiss. “Charming.”
My heartbeat erupts against my rib cage, wondering if Penelope Freidenberg will do what I asked. Without hesitation, she giggles like a kid, and says, “Thank you! I just started Calculus, and it’s hard.”
Part of me holds back a laugh, hoping she doesn’t oversell it, but I refrain when Nicole Frances’s blue eyes trail down to my crotch, trying to see what I’ve got beneath my trousers. “I’m sorry, darling. I’m quite thirsty. Mr. Cardell, would you mind taking me for a drink?”
With a sly grin, I nod. “Absolutely. Alice? I’ll be back in a moment.”
“That’s fine. I’m having a good time with Mr. Frances!” Even her voice sounds ridiculously high pitched, and I love it. Making fun of the old man right in front of him without him even knowing. Fuck, she’s my kind of girl.
A few of his colleagues collapse the circle around her as she seems to entertain them with a made-up story, but Nicole’s fingernails dig into my arm and lead me toward the bar. “You’re old enough to drink. Right, Mr. Cardell?”
Giving her a seductive eyebrow raise, I lean into her silvery bob and whisper, “Do you want me to be?”
“Are you flirting with me?”
“Definitely.”
“Then why are we wasting time with drinks?”
Her cheeks falter with their grin, as if she’s worried she overstepped, but I move us deeper into the crowd and pass her off to the chief of police. Chief Thornton smiles like he’s just been given a gift, and she looks at me with confusion. I lean in, brush my lips against her forehead, and whisper, “Meet me in the coat closet in five.”
Several local police officers stand around us in a circle, laughing at my interruption, but I announce, “Chief Thornton, please watch Senator Frances’s wife for a moment while I grab her a drink.”
Before I walk away, I give her a slight wink.
Pippi seems to have moved onto the dance floor with Senator Frances and is talking a mile a minute. He chuckles in return, but his eyes are captured by her full rack of tits.
In a few minutes, I’ve got two drinks and set them on the counter near the coatroom in the back. Just as I worry I’m about to be stood up, the lady walks in, swaying her hips. This woman isn’tinnocent, but she’s not my target either. She’s the problem the board wants erased, so the senator can marry my sister. I’ll pretend. I’ll play along. I’ll fake obedience.
Because, this body? It’s sacrificial proof. A bloodstained offering to earn the right to hold my P.I.C.’s hand.
