Shine: Season One (Shine Season Book 1)

by William Bernhardt

  I wandered to the back of the store when I finally saw it.

  My breath caught in my throat.

  I don’t usually get so emotional about a dress—it is just clothing, after all. But somehow this dress spoke to me.

  Black sheer lace covered the bodice. The satin fabric underneath managed to cover the important parts. The knee-length skirt would ensure that I had enough room to move in. No beads, no frills. This gown was unlike my prom dresses, but somehow, it suited me.

  When I looked at this dress, I thought of Memphis, and how I would look with him at my side. Memphis was subtle, yet more alluring than any guy I’d ever met. He was dangerous, and that made him more attractive.

  My heart pounded as I grabbed the hanger and lifted the gown off the rack. I found an empty dressing room and tried it on. It fit like a glove, and hugged all the right places. I almost didn’t recognize myself.

  I heard a tap on the door. “Found something?” Naomi asked.

  “I hope so.”

  “Will you let me have a look?”

  I opened the door.

  Her eyebrows rose. She didn’t speak.

  “Do you like it?”

  “A bit different than your usual tastes, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, I guess so.”

  She crossed her arms. “You’ll stand out. There isn’t a man on this planet who wouldn’t notice you in that.”

  She had a point. “You think I should find something else?”

  I smoothed out the lace, feeling the supple fabric beneath my fingertips as I waited for her answer.

  “I think you look beautiful,” Naomi said. “I think this is the one.”

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really. I’m a bit jealous, to be honest.”

  “Very funny.” She had to be kidding. My plain looks were nothing compared with Naomi’s. I had pale skin that looked mottled and pink whenever I got cold. Her skin was flawless. My chin had always been too round, my eyes too small. Her face was perfectly proportioned. Her hair had always looked exotic. My nondescript brown strands made me look ordinary. “You’re joking, right?”

  “It’s no joke, doll. Some girls would kill to have legs like yours.”

  “Ha! Then it’s a good thing I’m wearing my boots.”

  Her mouth gaped. “You’re not.”

  “I am. I made the mistake last time of wearing my stilettos to prom. It won’t happen again.”

  “You know you’re breaking every rule of fashion in the book.”

  “I know. At this point, I don’t care.”

  “You may as well wear that pink tutu Memphis bought you.”

  I pulled on my boots and inspected my reflection. I turned to get a view of my back. “Well? What do you think?”

  She tapped her chin. “It’s not too bad. It’s sort of pretty, in a kick ass, girl power sort of way.”

  I smiled. “Good.” Secretly, I hoped she wasn’t the only person who noticed.

  *****

  I stood outside the governor’s mansion with Memphis at my side. Soft honey-colored lights illuminated the historic building. At least, I assumed it to be historic. The architecture looked old-fashioned, with its wide front porch and elegant white columns. The sweeping lawn dotted with well-placed cacti and rock gardens accentuated the desert’s beauty.

  But I didn’t understand why there were so many piles of fresh dirt littering the lawn, or the buckets of paint stacked alongside the place, or the scaffolding.

  “Are they renovating?” I asked as Memphis led me up the winding gravel path.

  “Actually, they just built this place. This is the open house. Arizona’s never had a real governor’s mansion until now.”

  “Interesting. It’s beautiful.”

  “Yes,” he answered.

  I cleared my throat. I smoothed a hand over my dress. A gentle breeze blew past, tossing my hair. I’d worn my hair down. Usually I kept it in a ponytail, but tonight seemed like a good time to leave it alone. It fell to my waist in a long brunette wave.

  He stared straight ahead, not noticing me. I debated on fishing for a compliment, but decided against it. My throat tightened.

  Up until now, I’d never really worried if Memphis liked me or not. I’d been more concerned with escaping the Revens, and now with rescuing his sister. But I’d never stopped to contemplate whether he had the same kinds of feelings I had for him. Did he? The thought gave me pause. He’d shown me kindness, but nothing out of the ordinary. He’d brought me to a governor’s ball as his date, but really I was just his ticket in. He hadn’t said a word about my dress. Hadn’t even noticed me. I could’ve been stark naked and he would’ve looked right past me.

  A hard knot formed in my stomach as the truth sank in. He had no romantic feelings for me.

  I pushed the thought from my mind.

  Right now, I had more pressing issues to focus on. Like getting inside that mansion.

  A small crowd gathered near the door.

  The men and women all looked decades older than us.

  Most of the women wore bright, vibrant greens and oranges. My gown stood out more than I thought. I ignored the stares, instead focusing on a podium near the front entrance.

  Memphis pulled two tickets from his pocket as we stopped by the stand. I eyed the tickets. “Where’d you get those?”

  “Off the internet.” He cleared his throat.

  “Really?”

  He didn’t answer.

  “Where’d you get them?”

  “I might have hacked your dad’s email. The governor’s committee sent him tickets for his family plus one guest.”

  “So you’re the guest?”

  “Exactly.”

  “You hacked my dad’s email?”

  “It’s not as hard to do as you might think.”

  I crossed my arms. “Sometimes you scare me.”

  He ignored me, instead focusing on the security situation. Three guards, equipped with earpieces, google glasses, and .45 calibers, were stationed at the front entrance.

  I inspected the glasses more carefully.

  One of the guards tapped the rim. Touch screen. These glasses must have been the latest version, with silencers, and psychic encryption apps that brought up virtual control panels and enabled long distance visual communication.

  Perhaps finding those documents wouldn’t be the happy meal that I thought it would be.

  “The glasses,” I whispered to Memphis.

  “I see them.”

  I quieted as we neared the man behind the booth. He smiled, a brilliant toothy grin that looked too white to be natural.

  “Welcome to the governor’s mansion.”

  “Thank you,” Memphis said and handed him the tickets.

  The man scanned the tickets with a laser reader. “Miss Brighton, I see you’ve come all the way from New York.”

  “Yes.”

  “And your father wasn’t able to attend?”

  “No, it’s just me.”

  “A shame. But we’re thrilled you could make it.” He pushed a thumb scanner toward us. “If you’ll just press here.”

  I eyed the scanner.

  “Don’t worry. It doesn’t hurt. We just need to verify your identity.”

  I complied and pressed my thumb to the scanner. I heard three high-pitched chimes. The light blinked green. I removed my thumb.

  “And yours as well, Mr.,” he glanced at our tickets, “Mr. Flintstone.”

  I glanced at Memphis. Flintstone?

  Memphis hesitated. The attendant raised an eyebrow.

  “It’s just Stone,” Memphis corrected. “Flint Stone.” He said it with steel in his voice.

  “My mistake.” The man eyed the tickets. “Mr. Stone. Your thumbprint, if you will.” He scooted the scanner closer.

  Would they be able to look up Memphis’s record from his thumbprint? If so, we were screwed.

  Memphis must have thought the same thing.

  The crowd pressed in behind us.
>
  The man cleared his throat, then pushed the scanner closer.

  I felt Memphis’s heart rate quicken, matching the cadence of my own.

  Please don’t let us get caught.

  Memphis pressed the screen.

  I held my breath.

  The light blinked. Red. “Sorry,” the attendant said. “It does that sometimes. Let me just key it out and we’ll try again.” He took the scanner away and pressed a few buttons. My nerves twisted my insides. What would we do if we got caught? How would we escape?

  The attendant scooted the scanner toward Memphis. “Shall we try again?”

  Memphis eyed the scanner, then replaced his thumb on the glass square. I held my breath. Three beeps followed. The light turned green.

  I exhaled.

  Thank you.

  The man smiled and pulled the scanner away. “Enjoy your evening.”

  The guards parted as we filed through the tall glass doors and entered a lavish ballroom.

  Quiet conversations filled the chamber, accompanied by the sounds of a guitar. I spied a band sitting in the corner. A huge chandelier spanned overhead. Paintings of desert scenes covered the walls. Tables filled with saltwater crackers and hummus and shrimp cocktails sat along the edges of the room. If I weren’t so nervous, this might have been an evening worth enjoying.

  People stood around, talking quietly. A woman glanced at us, stared me up and down as if I were some kind of dog biscuit, and then turned back to her partner.

  Memphis glanced at his watch. “We’ve got thirty minutes until Naomi disables the surveillance.”

  “What should we do till then?”

  “Try to blend in?”

  “How? Most of these people are thirty years older than us. And I think they’ve noticed.”

  He pressed his hand to my back and steered me toward the floor. He took my hand in a firm grip. Warm, gentle fingers tightened around my frigid hand. Knots twisted in my stomach. My heart beat loud in my ears. I found it hard to breathe as he pulled me close. “We’ll blend in like this,” he said, his mouth close to my ear.

  “Okay, Mr. Flintstone,” I whispered back.

  He raised his eyebrows. “It would have been a bad idea to use my real name.”

  “True, but don’t you think Flint Stone would make them suspicious?”

  “Honestly, no. Unless they have an actual name in their data bases that matches mine, they have no reason to check it out.”

  “I see. For the record, I think Flintstone was a great choice. It suits you perfectly.”

  He gave me a half-smile. “Are you trying to be facetious?”

  “No, this is my attempt at humor.”

  He laughed. I wasn’t sure, but that could have been the first time I’d ever heard him laugh. His eyes met mine. He hadn’t paid any attention to my attire, but I couldn’t stop looking at him. He wore an actual suit, with a black shirt and tie. He looked more like a gentlemen than a criminal. The suit accentuated his lean, muscle-corded frame. My heart gave another flutter.

  His eyes darted from mine before his gaze could last any longer. He scanned behind me, always on the alert, like a soldier. His heart rate increased a tiny bit. I glanced around, noticing the older couples around us, the exits, the balcony, but couldn’t decide what had him on edge.

  “Do you see something?” I asked.

  “No, it’s nothing,” he answered too quickly.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.”

  I craned my neck to get a better look behind me. Two guards stood by a doorway. They both focused on us. “Do you think they know who you are?”

  “Doesn’t matter. There’s no way they could know of my record,” he paused. “My military record, anyway.”

  I raised an eyebrow. “Should I know what’s in your military record?”

  He gave me a sad smile that spoke volumes. Sorrow, regret, pain. I saw it all in his face. “I’d rather keep you in the dark on this one.”

  “That’s nothing new.”

  His hand pressed harder into my back. He pulled me closer in a possessive sort of way. “They’re moving,” he said, his voice low and controlled. Why did he have to be so close? My pulse throbbed with his nearness. My stomach was in triple knots. The knots were tied into knots. I’d had crushes in the past, but nothing had ever felt like this.

  I inhaled a deep breath. Turning into a lovesick schoolgirl wouldn’t do me any good. Memphis thought it was okay to keep things from me. I needed him to know how I felt about that.

  “You’ll have to tell me about your past someday,” I said.

  “Why is that?”

  “Because I’m helping you. That entitles me to know the truth.”

  “Says who?”

  “Says the person who left her life behind so she could help you.”

  He eyed me, eyes dark, as if debating what to tell me. “What exactly do you want to know?”

  “Tell me about the military.”

  “I can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s classified.”

  His heart rate shot up. “You’re lying.”

  He let out an exasperated breath. “Will you lay off me if I tell you?”

  “It depends on what you tell me.”

  He pulled me closer, which did nothing to my pounding heart, I swear. “I’ll tell you what I know, but after that, no more questions. Agreed?”

  His breath brushed my cheek. He stood so close I could turn my head and kiss him. “Agreed.”

  He slowly steered us to the edge of the crowd where we wouldn’t be heard. His eyes didn’t meet mine as he talked, instead they roved the crowd, always searching for a threat. “It started in Somalia. Our orders were to locate a ring of smugglers and take them out. It seemed like a simple job. It wasn’t.”

  “What happened?”

  “We found the smugglers’ compound but it was empty. Someone must’ve leaked the intel. Everyone started pointing fingers, and that’s when we were attacked. Twelve men got taken out. Only five of us got out of there alive.”

  He spoke with a conversational tone, as if we discussed the weather, but I heard the pain in his voice, in his heart. He’d told me once about his family, how they’d been killed in the hurricane. It didn’t seem fair for one person to suffer so much.

  “We were all brought in for questioning,” Memphis continued. “They knew one of us must have leaked the intel. No one confessed. My commanders got desperate. They would find the perp whether he existed or not.”

  “So they blamed you?”

  His eyes met mine. “Yeah. If I’d been convicted, it would’ve been life in military prison.”

  “How did you get out of it?”

  “Some people showed up. I’d never seen them before. They claimed they knew me and could vouch for me. They said they could prove it. They knew things about me, things I didn’t even know.”

  “Like what?”

  “They knew where I was born. They knew who my real parents were. They knew…” He swallowed. His eyes darted from mine. “They knew my real age.”

  He’d almost said something else. I decided to let it slide. He’d never been this open with me and I didn’t want to stop him.

  “They found a loophole and were able to get me free. I went home, dishonorably discharged, and I never saw them again.”

  I processed the information. He kept something from me, but did I dare press the issue? And what did he mean about a loophole? What could have gotten him off the hook so easily?

  “I went back home to New Orleans. After that it was just me and Alexa. Then she got taken from me. I had no one.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I don’t need your pity.” He didn’t speak with harshness, rather with a quiet desperation. He didn’t need my sympathy. He needed my understanding.

  “It’s been just me and Katelyn for a couple weeks now. I don’t know how my mom does it. We have the money, but she never hires maids or nannies. She
says we’re too important to let someone else raise us. I miss Katelyn. I miss my mom. I don’t know what it would be like if they were both gone.”

  “It’s hard,” he said. “It’s hard looking out on all these people. Here, in New York, back home in New Orleans, anywhere in the entire world—and know that not a single person cares for you, that no one out there actually feels for you. If you died, there wouldn’t be anyone out there to miss you.”

  His words broke my heart. Whatever hatred I’d harbored for him disappeared. My hands shook as he held on. Hearing the painful thump of his heart only made it worse. He didn’t want my sympathy, but how could I feel anything else?

  “I’m here,” I said, my voice only a little louder than a whisper.

  His eyes locked onto mine, confused, as if he saw me for the first time. “Are you sure about that?”

  Was I? He’d captured me, shown violence to me and my best friend and who knew how many others. Could I really bear my soul and admit that I—June Brighton—cared for him? I didn’t want to break my heart, but I didn’t want to break his either. Good Gandhi, why is it so hard to say the things you feel?

  “Memphis,” I spoke his name softly. “You don’t have to look very far. I’m here for you. I’ll never leave you. I promise.”

  I felt hope in his gaze, his eyes wide and vibrant, like looking into a fire. Did he think of me as a friend, or maybe even someone closer? But then he looked away, and the moment ended. “You shouldn’t.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The song ended. The dance floor spun around me as we made our way toward the opposite end of the room. I tried to catch my breath. I’d promised I’d be there for him, but he’d denied me. He held my hand in a firm, commanding grip. My heart fluttered. I felt my pulse throbbing with his nearness, with his skin on mine. I had to clear my head. “I’ll be right back,” I told him.

  “Where are you going?”

  “The little girls’ room.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes, now.”

  He tightened his jaw.

  “What’s the matter?” I asked.

  “Don’t let your guard down. I’ll be here when you get back. Please be quick.”

  “Because you’ll miss me?”

  He didn’t smile. My humor was wasted on him.