Protecting Abigail

by R. R. Banks

  "I've never actually seen someone make jam," I say. "I'm a huge fan of strawberry jam, but I've never really thought about the reality of someone making it in the kitchen."

  "You think jam grows naturally in the grocery store?" she asks, then giggles.

  Teasing me about my money and my privileged lifestyle is something she often does, and I find it adorable. There's something vaguely defensive about it, but she never seems uncomfortable about our differences, or ashamed of her own upbringing. Despite that, there's an idea I've been playing with in my mind for several days, and I feel like it's the perfect time to bring it up.

  "Anna has her first sleepover tomorrow night," I say.

  Abigail nods as she lifts her spoon out of the boiling berries to test the consistency of the jam.

  "I heard," she says. "She is really excited about it."

  "I hope she's going to be okay. Being away from home for the first time can be kind of scary, and she's still really young."

  "I know," she says. "But Susie's family lives in this building. She will only be a few floors from home, so I'm sure if she gets upset, you can get to her pretty fast. I can imagine you'll be sitting up waiting for her call all night."

  "Actually, I was wondering if you might want to do something with me."

  She glances over her shoulder at me.

  "What did you have in mind?" she asks.

  "Why don't you just trust me."

  I offer her a smile, and she blushes.

  "Alright," she says.

  "Good. I'm sure Anna will want you to help her get ready for her sleepover, so we'll leave after that."

  "What should I wear?"

  "Just wear normal clothes," I say.

  Abigail looks curious but doesn't ask any more questions after that. I have a feeling she hasn't had many good surprises in her life. I'm determined to change that for her.

  Chapter Eleven

  Abigail

  I'm not sure what to expect when I walk into Xavier’s apartment the next evening. As I close the door behind me, nothing seems different about the apartment. He told me nothing about what he’s planned for tonight, which has my mind spinning. I know he's nervous about Anna’s first night away from home, but I was just teasing about him being so worried he was going to sit up all night just in case she called. He is far too strong for that. I highly doubt he's asked me to come over so we can sit up and watch movies all night, just waiting for Anna to need an escort.

  A few seconds after I walk inside, Anna comes rushing down the hallway toward me. A huge duffle bag hangs over her shoulder, and her face is bright with excitement.

  "Can you help me pack?" she asks. "I've never been on a sleepover before. I don't know what to bring."

  She sounds almost frantic, and I laugh as she grabs my hand and pulls me back toward her bedroom. It's difficult to imagine that this is the same child who was completely standoffish when I first met her. As soon as we get to her bedroom, she drops the massive empty bag onto her bed and spreads it wide open to accept everything she starts tossing inside. Hannah and several other dolls go in, along with her doll diaper bag, doll clothes, bottles, and a stack of books. By the time she's finished with these, there isn't much space left in her bag. I walk up to the bed and peer in.

  "Do you really think you’ll need all of that?" I ask.

  "What if she wants to play?" Anna asks. "Isn't that what people do at sleepovers? What if she doesn't have any dolls of her own?"

  I almost laugh, but I know she is extremely serious about this very important issue, so I hold back.

  "I'm sure she has a doll of her own," I say. "Maybe you can just bring Hannah and some of her things. And why don't you just pick a couple of books." I reach into the bag and pull out a pair of doll panties. "It looks like these might be a little bit difficult for you to sleep in."

  Anna giggles.

  "Those are for my doll, Abigail," she says, rolling her eyes.

  "Oh," I say as if I hadn't even considered that possibility. "Then maybe you should make sure you pack some of your own, too."

  "Maybe," she says.

  "Why don’t we think of all the things you might need, and we'll put them together."

  Anna and I spend the next fifteen minutes going over every possible event we think might happen at her slumber party, including the chance she might spill her dinner on herself, or Susie might tip her drink over while they watch movies. Finally, we put her third and final pair of pajamas into the bag atop her two outfits for the next day, her extra pair of socks, her sweater in case they have the air conditioner on too high, and her teddy bear because he can't possibly be left alone all night. I can only imagine that when Susie's mom, Heather, sees Anna lugging that bag down the hallway, she’ll think Anna has decided to move in for the summer.

  I make my way across the hallway to Anna’s bathroom to get her toothbrush. On my way back, I hear movement in the living room and wonder what Xavier is doing. I tuck the toothbrush into the side pocket of Anna's bag, snap the handles together, and pick it up to offer it to Anna. She takes it from my hands, and it immediately hits the floor. Struggling to pick it up, her expression determined, she trudges toward her door. Muffling my laugh, I follow her to make sure she maintains the proper balance and the excessive weight of the bag doesn’t knock her over.

  "Well," I say as we approach the living room. "I think she's ready. She has absolutely everything I could possibly think she might need, and then some."

  We step into the living room, and I have to hide my startled gasp. Xavier stands in front of me in an exquisitely tailored black suit. It looks expensive and luxurious, and it accentuates Xavier's broad shoulders, powerful chest, and tight hips perfectly.

  "Good," Xavier says. "Let’s get going. You don't want to leave Susie waiting for your first sleepover, do you?"

  Anna turns to me.

  "I'll tell you all about it," she says.

  I lean down slightly and nod.

  "I want to know everything," I say.

  Anna gives me a quick hug before dragging her bag over to the door. Xavier scoops it up and effortlessly throws it over his shoulder.

  "I'll be right back," he says. "Why don't you go take a look in the spare bedroom?"

  It's an odd suggestion, and I'm not sure how I should respond. Without waiting for a reply, Xavier and Anna leave the apartment and close the door behind them. I stand in place for a few seconds, not sure what to do, then decide I might as well take a look in the spare room. Making my way down the hallway, I pause at the door I found on my first day in the apartment. This is not the first time since then I've stopped here. Every few days, I find myself standing in this spot in the hallway, looking at the locked door. Sometimes, I try to jiggle the doorknob just in case it might be unlocked. It never is. Anna has caught me looking at it a few more times, but never says anything about it. I know I could ask her what's beyond the door, but then it would be admitting I've been snooping, and that's probably not something I should reveal about myself to the six-year-old I've been tasked to care for. Instead, I let myself come up with different ideas of what might be in that room. None have seemed terribly plausible, and a few times I've subtly tried to ask Xavier what is in the room without giving away that I’ve been sneaking around.

  He's never told me, either. As always, the doorknob is locked, and I move on. I head down to the extra bedroom and find the door shut closed. Usually it is left open at least a few inches. I know this because of the strict policy Mary Ellen, the housekeeper, has about cleaning all of the rooms in the apartment on a regular basis, even if they aren't used. As far as I can tell, this apartment hasn't had a guest in a long time, yet every week Mary Ellen strips the bed of each of the guest rooms, replaces them with fresh linens, and goes about her usual routine of vacuuming, dusting, polishing, and fluffing like there's a constant stream of people using the rooms. The closed door strikes me as odd, but when I touch the doorknob it turns easily and the door swings open. I step in, an
d my eyes fall on a blue dress hanging on the front of a massive polished wood wardrobe across the room. A pair of shoes sits beneath it.

  To the side, I see an antique vanity table covered with bottles, tubes, and compacts. Various hair styling implements sit beside the impressive collection of high-end cosmetics. For a few seconds, I feel unsure of what's happening here. Was it possible Xavier's plan for tonight was to have me help another woman get ready to go on a date with him? The thought makes my heart sink in my chest, but I think back over what he said. He asked if I wanted to do something with him, not if I was busy, or if I had time to help him with something.

  No. This isn't for someone else. This is for me.

  My hands tremble slightly as I run my fingers down the fine, silky fabric of the dress. I try to peek at the label inside but notice there isn't one, which means this gown was handcrafted, not bought off the rack. I walk over to the vanity to more closely examine the items there. Perching at the edge of the cushioned seat in front of the vanity, I let my hands run across each of the brand-new containers. There are more makeup items and perfumes stockpiled here than I have cumulatively owned in my life, and a girlish thrill shoots through me. I feel like a princess, and quickly lose myself in applying makeup and styling my hair. I can’t remember the last time I put this much effort into my appearance – and it feels good.

  A few minutes later, I hear the front door open and close, and I dash across the room to close and lock the door. I don't want Xavier peeking in and seeing me getting ready. When I finally finish with my makeup and styling my hair, I carefully slip into the dress. It fits me perfectly, and the realization that Xavier knows and understands the shape of my body to this detail sends a shiver throughout my body that settles between my thighs. Pushing my feet into the heels he paired with the dress, I’m finally ready for whatever else he has planned. Feeling nervous, I step out of the guest room toward the living room. When I step in, Xavier is standing with his back to me, but he turns in response to the clicking of my shoes on the floor. His eyes widen, and I see them gaze up and down my body. Finally, they meet mine, and he smiles.

  "You look stunning.”

  "Thank you," I say. "For all of this. The dress is incredible."

  He shakes his head as he walks toward me, reaching for my hand.

  "The dress was nothing until you put it on," he says.

  He lifts my hand and kisses the back of it.

  "What are we doing tonight?" I ask, feeling slightly breathless but trying to regain control of my rapidly beating heart.

  "Just relax," he says. "I have everything planned. Are you ready to go?"

  I want to ask where we’re going, but I know he won't tell me. Instead, I nod, and Xavier guides me toward the door. He links his arm through mine to escort me into the elevator. We ride in silence, and when we reach the lobby, he takes my arm again, leading me across the open space toward the front door of the apartment building. I see several people turn to look at us as we pass, and I get a strange bit of excitement from the thought that only I know who Xavier really is.

  The doorman nods at Xavier as we step out into the cool early summer evening. A long, sleek black limo sits at the curb, a chauffeur waiting at the ready. I glance at Xavier.

  "Really?" I ask.

  His eyes twinkle mischievously as he gives a slight shrug.

  "You don't always go on dates in limos?" he asks.

  I know he’s teasing me like always, but it still causes me to blush. After sliding inside the luxury limo, I notice two crystal glasses and a chilled bottle of champagne sitting inside the built-in bar. Xavier takes his place on the seat beside me, and the chauffeur closes the door behind us. As soon as the front door closes and we feel the car moving beneath us, Xavier reaches for the glasses and the bottle. Popping it open, he pours some of the shimmering liquid into each of the glasses before offering me one. I take it and we clink the rims against each other.

  “You're really not going to tell me what else we’re doing tonight?" I ask after taking a sip of delicious champagne.

  "That would ruin the surprise," Xavier says.

  "I've never been great with surprises," I say. "I prefer to know what's coming."

  He takes a sip of his own drink and shakes his head.

  "Not tonight," he says. “Tonight, you relax and let me show you the city. Anna has gotten her chance to do it, now it's my turn."

  I sit back against the seat, thoroughly enjoying the vintage champagne. Somehow, I don't think Xavier's plans for tonight include going to the Central Park Zoo or boating across the lake while pretending to be pirates.

  We drive for almost half an hour before the car comes to a stop in a parking garage. The chauffeur opens the door and helps me out of the car. When Xavier steps out, he nods at the chauffeur and thanks him.

  "I'll give you a call when we're ready to head back," he instructs.

  "Of course, sir."

  Xavier takes my arm again and leads me toward the elevator at the far side of the parking deck. We step inside, and he enters a code into the keypad.

  "I had some strawberry jam on my toast this morning," Xavier says. "It was delicious. Definitely much better than what grows wild in the grocery store."

  I smile, but the conversation is a strange juxtaposition to our clothes and already elaborate evening. Finally, the elevator stops, and the doors slide open. I feel a rush of air and realize Xavier has brought us to the roof. As we step out, I see a helicopter sitting on a painted symbol in the middle of the roof. I can't help but laugh.

  "Seriously?" I ask. "A helicopter?"

  Xavier takes my hand, intertwining our fingers, and starts toward the helicopter.

  "You always tell me I'm so out of touch because of my money," he says. "Tonight, I'm going to show you just how out of touch I can be."

  I grin as he helps me climb into the cabin, but I'm surprised to see there isn’t a pilot waiting for us. A second later, Xavier gets inside, and I realize he's positioned behind the controls.

  "You're going to fly?"

  "Yes," he says. "It's one of my many talents."

  "Oh, really?" I ask.

  "Actually, it's just a hobby. I started studying for my pilot's license when I was a teenager. Being able to fly gets me around a lot faster when I need to, and I like being able to do it myself. I have an on-call pilot for when I want a more relaxing trip, but I like flying, and I also like knowing I can go somewhere on a whim rather than having to wait for someone else to take me. Have you ever flown in a helicopter before?"

  "I haven't flown in anything before," I say.

  "Then, you're in for a treat."

  Xavier points out a headset, and I settle it over my ears, hoping it doesn't crush my hair. He makes a few maneuvers with the controls, and I hear the blades overhead start to chop through the air. A few moments later, the helicopter shifts, and we rise up off the roof. I can't help but let out a little squeal of delight and grip the seat beside me.

  "Don't worry," Xavier says. "You're safe. I’ve got you."

  I look over at him, meeting his eyes when he glances my way.

  "I know.”

  We fly around over the city for over an hour, Xavier points out landmarks, restaurants, and several buildings he owns before carefully bringing the helicopter down onto the roof of another building. The blades slow and then still, and I realize just how loud the sound was as the quiet settles around us once again.

  "Well, what did you think?" he asks.

  I take off my headset and put it aside.

  "It was gorgeous," I say. "I never could have imagined that's what the city looks like from above. It looks so much calmer and more organized from up in the sky."

  "That's how everything is," Xavier says. "It only looks that way from a distance. It's not until you get closer that you can see all the complication and mess. But you also get to see the most fun."

  Something about his words makes my heart shake, and I look out the window to try to shake the
emotions I’m feeling. I don't recognize where we are, but I know it's not the same building where we first got onto the helicopter.

  "Did the people who own this building expect you to land on top of it tonight?" I ask.

  Xavier climbs out of his side of the cabin, then walks around to open my door and help me down.

  "Yes," he says.

  He gestures to the side, and I follow his hand to see a table sitting near the edge of the roof. Strands of lights surround it, creating a circle of inviting glow. It's incredible, and I’m in disbelief as Xavier guides me over to it and pulls my seat out for me. He settles across from me, and we both lift fresh glasses of champagne to toast again and take sips. As if they were waiting for the exact second we sat down, two waiters appear carrying covered plates. They set them down in front of us and remove the brushed metal cloches with a dramatic flourish. The gold accented plates have only a small amount of food, and I look at Xavier.

  "Don't worry," he says. "This is just the appetizer. There are four more courses ahead of us."

  What he doesn't mention is that those four courses won't be served here, and I'm surprised when we finish the few but delicately delectable bites of the food, and he suddenly stands, escorting me back to the helicopter. For the next two hours, we hop from building to building, flying through the stars to reach the next destination, and the next course. When we arrive at our destination for what Xavier promises is the dessert course, I realize we're right back at the building where we started. When we climb out of the helicopter, another table is awaiting us. I wonder who has been crafting each of these little scenes for us, how many people are hustling around the city under Xavier's command to ensure everything is exactly as he wants it to be. Throughout the entire night, Xavier hasn't shown even a moment of concern or anxiousness. He hasn't seemed flustered or worried something might not work out the way he planned it. Instead, he goes through each stage with a steady, secure and confident attitude that says he knows exactly what's going to happen.

  This is true control, true power, and I'm intoxicated by it.