by Julia Gray
"What type of approach?" he asks, intrigued.
"A personal approach?" I guess.
"Good." He nods. "You're finally starting to learn something from working for me. Think, my boy. If the chip is not among her things then where is it?"
"Um." I clear my throat. Matt has never looked at me this way. His eyes aren't as harsh, and we're conversing like actual people right now. I feel like I can speak freely without calling him, Sir. "Your wife must have it. I guess if it is as valuable as you say it is, she won't want to let it out of her sight right?"
"Good," he approves. He looks back at his computer screen. My mind jumps back to what Matt said before we flew to England. He said that Paige and his wife think exactly alike. While I don't completely agree with that statement, I try to imagine what Paige might do if she was given such a dangerous and valuable object.
Paige would probably do the same as her mother. She wouldn't hide it anywhere too far away, but she would also be too afraid to keep it on her. If she was captured and the item was easily taken, she would have no bargaining chip. She would be finished.
Paige would hide it out of sight, but still in her plain sight.
"Is it possible that your wife hid it in something?" I suggest. "Something ordinary that she can keep her eye on?"
"That's exactly what she did." He smirks. "The question is what?" He scans each screen again and watches a new van arrive. A man gets out and opens the car door revealing a backseat full of flowers.
The party is close to starting. We watch each camera silently for a few seconds. A car pulls up, and a couple gets out wearing formal attire. The guests are beginning to arrive. Matt leans back a little like we are in for a long night. We can't look away for a minute until the party is over. And even then one of us will have to monitor the house throughout the night.
In the morning, I will contact Paige again. The sooner I figure out where the chip is, the sooner Paige and I can go home. I think about how much different things will be when we get back to Seaside. She might even muster up the courage to tell some of her friends about me. My smile quickly turns when I remember that Matt hasn't given me his speech yet. I know what he'll say. Some garbage about how we aren't right for each other.
"No." Matt leans in closely. He studies a couple walking through the front door alongside a few more guests. "No. No." He stands up and grabs his jacket.
"What?" I hate it that he doesn't tell me what's going on right away. I have to wait for him to study a few more cameras and then rush to grab a handgun from his bag. "Matt, what is it?"
"I hoped it wouldn't happen this soon," he comments. "They must be desperate or out of time."
"What!"
"Burns is moving in on Heather," he replies. "He has infiltrated the party."
PAIGE
Chapter Thirty Six
"I think I would rather flush this thing down the toilet."
I wait until the very last second to put my party dress on. I hear a soft knock on my door, and I know immediately that it is Mikki. She quietly enters the room wearing the same dress she borrowed from Victor last night. She looks good in it.
"Mom didn't get you a dress huh," I mumble.
"Oh."
"I was joking around," I respond. "Don't mind my mom. She's rude to just about everyone."
"She hasn't said a word to me since she got here." Mikki glances around the room making sure that we are definitely alone. She clasps her hands in front of her. "It's like I don't even exist."
"Yeah." I sigh, thinking back to all the times I've heard Mom trash talk Mikki's Aunt Scarlett. "Well, she's not a huge fan of your aunt."
"That's not exactly a secret." Mikki smiles and glances down at her feet for a second. The gesture makes me feel like I'm back home in Seaside. I smile back.
"So what do you think?" I twirl around and let her get a good look at my outfit. Guests have started arriving so I finally forced myself to squeeze into the dress. I've been taking slow and tiny breaths ever since.
"I love it." Her eyes light up.
"I feel huge in it," I respond.
Mikki softly giggles.
"You might feel that way, but you don't look that way."
I pause for a second waiting for a but. I guess I'm used to hanging around Alana. If she were here right now, she would probably agree that I look bloated and that I should do a better job of trying to hide my baby bump. I can barely see it when I look in the mirror, but it is still there.
"Thanks." Our conversation feels natural. "And really, don't mind my mom. She ignores me too."
"I came to tell you that Sheila wants us downstairs for pictures," Mikki says. "Dane is already down there."
"Scoping the place out, I bet." I laugh. "Checking the house for bad guys."
"You know how he is."
"Look Mikki," I begin. "About all the mean things I've said to you-"
"It's in the past," she replies. "I'm cool with forgetting about it if you are?"
"You're just nice to me because I'm preggy," I joke. Mikki playfully shrugs. I feel like one day in the future we might actually hug like old friends. It's funny how things can change like that.
I follow her downstairs, and I hear loud voices when we walk through the foyer past a coat check station and into the living area. Every piece of wooden furniture has been superbly polished, and the French doors leading to the garden out back are open. The dining room table is set up with hors d'oeuvres, and the family room area has been cleared out and filled with tables.
I carefully examine each place setting and the vases of flowers in the center of the table. I ignore the food. The smell is starting to get to me. I see my mom in her gold dress greeting guests. The house already feels crowded. I wonder how many more people will be showing up. There can't be enough room for everyone at the table.
Aunt Sheila is standing next to my mom in a similar dress except it is silver. They are wearing matching heels, and their blonde updos even look similar. They almost look like twins. It makes me laugh to look at them so excited to welcome guests to their party as Victor sips his scotch in the dining room.
"Brilliant dress," Myra comments. She walks up to me glaring at the purple fabric around my torso. I feel self-conscious, but I force myself not to touch my stomach. You don't look bloated or pregnant. You look fine. Myra is wearing a similar looking outfit, but it is baby blue. Her auburn hair is curled, and she's wearing shiny red lipstick. She is also wearing a necklace with a small Union Jack charm.
"You too."
"Oh, Paige, honey!" My mom speed walks towards me. Her heels click on the marble floor. "Come on. Let's take a few pictures." She walks right past Mikki and grabs my arm. I see Dane take Mikki's hand out of the corner of my eye and persuade her to join in the family pictures too.
My mom looks at my outfit. Her eyes dart to my bare chest. I look down at my cleavage. A product of squeezing into this tiny thing. Mom lets go and nudges me back towards the staircase.
"What?" I ask her.
"The necklace," she says. "Why aren't you wearing it? March back upstairs and grab it for pictures." She hits my backside and watches as I slowly move past a crowd of guests in the foyer. She finally looks away when I'm half way up the stairs.
I take off my heels when I enter my room and let my toes relax on the soft carpet. All I want to do is collapse under the covers and watch some British soaps. My legs take me to the bathroom, and I open my medicine cabinet. The star necklace is right where I left it. I hold it up to the light so that it twinkles. It does sort of go with my outfit.
I frown as I put it on because wearing it will only show my mother that I accept her apology present even though I never get actual apologies. I think I would rather flush this thing down the toilet. Maybe then she would see that something about me is different. Maybe then she would sit down and ask me what is wrong or even tell me what's wrong with her.
I can wish, can't I?
I take a deep breath as I leave my room and s
tand at the top of the staircase with my heels in my hand. I put the shoes back on my feet and strut slowly back to the party. I see Dane tug at his tie as he quietly watches guests checking their coats. He's wearing a silky looking tie that almost matches the color of my dress. Victor's tie matches Myra's dress. Mom and Sheila must have coordinated the whole thing. I approach my brother, hoping for a juicy piece of gossip to take my mind off of hardly being able to breathe.
"What on earth are you staring at?" I mutter to Dane. He glances at me and then continues studying a woman with a red leather handbag.
"I'm not sure," he admits. "I just feel uneasy."
Chapter Thirty Seven
"What if she vomits on everyone's stuff?"
I smile for pictures, but it is a fake smile. As soon as the photographer turns away, I frown again. Mom keeps insisting that he take a few more but he has already taken hundreds. Mom looks over his shoulder at the digital photos. She nods and lets us leave to mingle before dinner. I take off my necklace and clench it in my fist.
"Your mum is absolutely lovely," a woman comments.
"Thanks," I mutter.
"Fabulous party," another guest says.
"Yep." I push my way past the spread of tartines and champagne.
"Paige," a voice calls out. I see Mikki frantically waving at me from across the room. She is near the closet in the foyer where Mom set up a coat check station. The attendant is nowhere to be seen. I casually smile at a few guests as walks towards the foyer to join her.
"What's going-" I stop when I see Mikki trying to hide someone who is almost passed out among the coats and purses. The attendant is a teenage girl. She looks up at me and giggles. Mikki looks confused, but I've seen that dazed look before on Alana. "Can she walk?"
"I'm going to say no," Mikki responds.
"She must have taken something," I respond. "Pain killers. Anti-anxiety meds. Something. My mom will go psychotic if one little thing like this goes wrong." I glance around the foyer and quickly take a few steps down the hall to make sure Mom is occupied with other things at the moment. I scan the dining room and the living area where guests are starting to take their assigned seats. I don't see Mom anywhere. She must have stepped away to freshen up. I run back and help Mikki try and lift the girl.
"What do we do?" she whispers. "We can't just leave her here. What if she passes out? What if she needs medical attention?"
"What if she vomits on everyone's stuff?" I point out. "That would be the worst one of all." I wrap the girl's arm around my shoulder and drag her towards the stairs.
"Should we take the stairs in the kitchen?" Mikki suggests.
"No. Everyone is taking their seats. Someone will definitely spot us."
"Are you sure you're okay lifting her?" Mikki narrows her eyes and watches to see if I struggle even a tiny bit with the weight on my shoulders.
"I'm not made of glass," I reply. "Now come on. Help me get her upstairs before anyone comes this way."
Mikki grabs the girl's other arm, and the two of us force her to walk up the staircase. I take a deep breath when we reach the top of the stairs. I turn towards my room but stop. My mom would freak out if she found the coat check girl passed out on her bed. She would make Dessie go out and buy her all new sheets.
"Um," I say. "How big is Myra's room?"
"Big enough," Mikki responds. The two of them started sharing a room after Mom showed up. Mikki felt weird staying in the guest room with Dane with my mother constantly hovering.
"Let's put her in there."
Mikki smiles and helps me take the girl into Myra's bedroom. The coat check girl is going in and out of sleep. She closes her eyes and lets her head hang, and then she jerks awake with a droopy smile. She barely has control of her legs. When we let go of her, she stumbles onto Myra's bed like she can't even feel her limbs. I help her lie flat on her back. She closes her eyes and starts breathing heavily.
I glance around Myra's room. It is baby blue just like the dress she's wearing, and her furniture is all white except for a pink vanity with a giant mirror in the corner. There are boxes on top of boxes of eye shadows and lipsticks.
"Dang, she has a lot of makeup." I am tempted to snoop through it all, but I remember that Mom might be looking for me downstairs.
"She could open her own store," Mikki adds. I smile.
The two of us shut the door, and I giggle, thinking about the look on Myra's face when she comes up to her room later. I take a deep breath as we approach the top of the stairs. I hesitate to go back down to the party. Mikki takes a few steps and looks up at me.
"I think I'm going to have a little time out," I say, looking down at the star necklace still clenched in my fist. I place a hand on my stomach. "If my mom asks, tell her I'm in the bathroom freshening up or something."
"Are you okay?" she asks. "Do you need me to get you something?"
"I'm just really tired."
Mikki nods and doesn't pry any further. That's something I like about her. She knows when to mind her own business. I love parties, and I love watching the drama unfold. It's inevitable when my mom is around. Tonight is different, though. I don't care as much about the party downstairs as I do about seeing Gavin again or getting on with my life back in Seaside. The longer I wait to tell my parents what's happening to me, the sicker I feel. There is a sour feeling in my gut apart from the nausea. I have more important things to worry about than if Aunt Sheila's chef overcooked the fish.
I reach out to turn the handle to my bedroom door, but I stop when I hear voices on the other side. My heart races when I think of how Gavin climbed to my window just to see me. I listen intently to the voices in my room. It's not Gavin.
There are two men in my bedroom, and I don't recognize them. They are arguing. My torso freezes and I take a few steps back, wondering what to do. Should I get Dane or should I barge in and embarrass them for arguing in an upstairs bedroom during Aunt Sheila's classy engagement party?
"I told you it's not here," a womanly voice says.
My throat feels like it is swelling up.
I know that voice too well.
It's my mom.
Chapter Thirty Eight
"I think of all the reasons why I am not ready to die."
My mom's voice on the other side of the door does not sound friendly. She doesn't sound like she's in distress, but she doesn't sound cooperative. A man asks her again to tell him where the chip is hidden. She clears her throat and chuckles lowly.
"It' not here. Are you hard of hearing?"
"Don't push it, Heather." One of the men shouts. "I was willing to do this the civil way, but you are testing my patience."
"Burns," one of the men calls the other. His voice drifts off. I press my ear against the door, but I can't hear anything more, not even whispers.
My bedroom door bursts open and I lose my balance. I fall forward and have just enough time to block my face before it hits the carpet. My chest tightens when I look up and see two men in suits. My eyes dart to a gun sticking out from underneath one of their suit jackets. Mom shakes her head.
"It pains me to do this Heather, but if you won't talk . . ." The man grabs my arm and forcefully pulls me to my feet. My clenched hands loosen, and my star necklace drops gracefully next to my feet.
None of them seem to notice except my mom. Her eyes immediately catch the silver glint, and she stares at it on the floor. One of the men pulls out a set of handcuffs and cuffs one of my wrists to the bedpost. I stay standing, hardly able to move my arm.
"Stop!" I try to yank my arm away, but it doesn't work. I'm stuck. "What are you doing? Mom! Tell them to let me go!"
"You heard her." The man who cuffed me shrugs. "Tell us where the chip is, and we'll let her go. You might not care what we do to you, but I assume you care what we do to her."
My mom stays silent. I study her expression, confident that she will fix this mistake and give them what they want to spare me. She's my mother. But as each second passes, I start
to wonder. She has barely even blinked.
"Burns," one of the men says as his partner grabs his pocket knife. "What are you doing?"
The man called Burns walks towards me and moves the knife to my throat. Every muscle in my body is tense. I can hardly breathe as I watch the blade get closer to me.
"Heather," Burns says. His partner takes a deep breath. "Come on. Be a dear and just tell me. I don't want to do this, but I will if I have to."
My mom keeps her mouth shut. I gulp and stare at the knife as he moves it closer and closer to my neck. He pauses and gives my mom a couple of minutes to make up her mind. She stays still on the sofa glaring at Burns and his partner.
"Suit yourself." Burns finally shakes his head and takes a step closer. I flinch as his hand moves to my throat. I see the flash of the blade move underneath my chin and all at once my head starts spinning like crazy. I think of all the reasons why I am not ready to die. There are millions, but one is stronger than them all.
My baby.
I flail my other hand at the man named Burns, but he is expecting it. He grabs my hand and squeezes it until it turns purple. His other hand moves past my neck and cuts off a strand of my blonde hair. He holds it up so my mom can see.
"Dickhead," I say, grabbing the severed strand on my head. Now my hair is going to look uneven.
"That was a warning," he says to my mom. "Next time I'll aim better."
"What is he talking about?" I ask. My mom lifts her chin and keeps her mouth closed.
"You haven't told her?" Burns responds. "Your mother-"
"Shut up, Burns." My mom finally snaps. "Do you think torturing my daughter is going to solve anything?"
"Maybe." He smirks.
