Page 37 of The Ruling Class
The image of a tiny Henry Marquette making a big-brother to-do list was all too easy to picture.
“He’s been my best friend for almost as long as I can remember, Tess. When his dad died …” Asher shook his head and didn’t finish that thought. “Henry and his grandfather were close. Theo was the closest thing to a father Henry had left.”
My stomach twisted sharply. It was too easy to put myself in Henry Marquette’s shoes, to imagine how I would feel if I woke up tomorrow and Gramps was gone. It was a short jump to imagining what it would be like to know that my grandfather’s death hadn’t been an accident.
I would have been out for blood.
“You can’t tell Henry what you just heard,” I told Asher.
Asher gave me a look. “I knew you were a little crazy, Tess. It’s there, in the eyes.” He gestured in the general vicinity of my face. “But I, too, have been in possession of the Crazy Eyes on occasion. I get it. If you want to go head-to-head with John Thomas Wilcox, or take up permanent residence in the guys’ bathroom, or skip out in the middle of the school day, I will happily go along for the ride.”
But you won’t keep this from your best friend, I filled in.
“How do you think Henry will respond to this news?” I asked. Asher’s expression darkened. “My guess would be not well,” I continued. “And right now, even if he knew, there wouldn’t be anything he could do about it. He could try going to the police. But if Vivvie gets spooked, if sherecants…”
All we had was Vivvie’s word.
“We’re talking about the president’s physician, Asher.” I wasn’t sure what kind of background checks working at the White House involved, but if the Powers That Be were willing to put the president’s life in Vivvie’s father’s hands, he obviously wasn’t considered a security risk. Or a threat.
“Darn you and your infernal logic.” Asher ran both hands through his hair, mussing it to ridiculous heights. “Fine,” he capitulated. “But I want in. Whatever you’re planning to do about this, whatever Vivvie’s doing, I want in.”
It went against every instinct I had to agree. But based on the mutinous set of Asher’s jaw, I didn’t see that I had much of a choice.
“Fine,” I said sharply. I scuffed my shoe into the ground. “Any chance you know someone who can get information off a disposable phone?”
Asher drove me back to Ivy’s. I texted Bodie to let him know that he didn’t need to pick me up from school. A moment later, I got a text back:Call from school.Skipping classes? HRH not pleased.
So Ivy wasn’t happy with me. Right now, that was the least of my problems. Belatedly, I translated Bodie’s code for Ivy.HRH:Her Royal Highness.I snorted.
Asher glanced over at me from the driver’s seat. “Care to share with the class?”
“Ivy’s driver,” I replied, like that was explanation enough. For Asher, it turned out that it was.
“And bydriver, I’m assuming you meanbodyguard.”
“That’s a thing?” I asked.
Asher turned onto Ivy’s street. “At Hardwicke,” he replied, “that’s definitely a thing.”
Of course it was. I’d been in DC a week, and I’d already met the First Lady, crossed horns with the minority whip’s son, and gone to the funeral for a Supreme Court justice. Ivy had said it herself: HardwickewasWashington. For every student like Asher, whose parents were dentists, there was someone like Henry or Vivvie.
Or me. As Asher pulled into Ivy’s driveway, I was reminded of the fact that I wasn’t as removed from the power players in this town as I felt. There was a limo parked in the drive.
Asher eyed it. “Just another afternoon at Ivy Kendrick’s house?”
The car had shaded windows, with glass that I deeply suspected was bulletproof.One of Ivy’s clients, I thought. With any luck, maybe she would be busy enough that she wouldn’t have time to cross-examine me about why I’d skipped school—or where I’d spent the afternoon. I unbuckled my seat belt and opened the car door.
“Thanks for the ride,” I told Asher. What I was really thinking was,Don’t tell anyone what happened. What Vivvie overheard. Whatyouheard.
Asher inclined his head slightly and gave me a smoldering look. “Until tomorrow.”
I slammed the car door before Asher could say anything else. I’d nearly made it to Ivy’s front door before I realized the entrance was blocked. A man in a dark-colored suit stepped forward, gesturing for me to stop. It took me less than a second to get a read on him: suit, sunglasses, gun holstered at his side.Secret Service.
“My sister lives here,” I told him. “Light brown hair, about yea tall? Is probably in there talking to the First Lady right now?”
The agent raked his eyes over me.
“Seriously,” I said. “I live here.”
