True Colors

by Yolanda Wallace

  “You had Steven check me out?”

  “No, he checked you out on his own. I didn’t ask him to do it. When he tried to tell me what he had discovered, I told him in no uncertain terms I didn’t want to know. I want to get to know the real you, not who some computer database says you are.”

  Robby leaned back in her chair and blew a long stream of air through her lips. She felt violated. Was this how the subjects of her blogs felt when they read some of the things she wrote about them?

  “What’s wrong?” Taylor asked.

  “I don’t think Miles knows who he’s trying to get in bed with.”

  “Steven’s a good guy. He was just doing his job.”

  “Which is?”

  “To protect me.”

  “Do you feel you need protection from me?”

  Taylor reached for her hand, bridging the distance between them. “Yes, I do.”

  “Why?” Robby panicked. Had her big fish fallen off the hook?

  “Because if I’m not careful, I could fall in love with you.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Taylor kissed Robby good night and escorted her to the idling limo. She waited until the car’s taillights disappeared into the darkness before she retreated to the warmth and safety of the White House.

  The guards at the gate and the Secret Service agents on duty inside were in the middle of a shift change. As she climbed the front steps with Ethan Moss and Lily Peterson on her tail, Taylor watched some of the new arrivals congregate near the fence along Lafayette Square. Some were inside the fence. The rest stood on the sidewalk outside. They didn’t seem to be sharing small talk while they waited for their shifts to begin. They seemed to be in the middle of an investigation.

  “What’s going on?” she asked as the agents shined their flashlights on the fence, sidewalk, and grass.

  “Nothing to worry about, ma’am,” Ethan said, ushering her inside. “We had an attempted fence jumper while you were having dinner with Miss Rawlins, but the matter has already been addressed, and there was no need to place the building or grounds on lockdown.”

  “How far did he get?”

  Several people had attempted to scale the tall protective fence over the years. Most were thwarted before they reached the top, but one man had made it all the way through the North Portico doors and ran through most of the main floor before he was caught by a counter assault agent.

  “Not very,” Lily said. “The guards at the gate spotted him, grew suspicious, and pulled him down before he got more than a couple of feet off the ground. The two men with him attempted to flee, but they were apprehended as well. All three were taken into custody and are being interrogated as we speak.”

  “Were any of them carrying weapons?”

  “No, the jumper was naked except for the American flag draped across his shoulders. His friends weren’t wearing much more.” Lily flashed a wry smile. “As you can probably guess from that bit of information, they were all quite inebriated. The jumper said they were on their way home from a party when his buddies dared him to scale the fence, and he couldn’t turn down the challenge.”

  “Dumbass,” Ethan said bitterly. “We were lucky this wasn’t a coordinated attack, or we might have been caught with our pants around our ankles.”

  “Thanks for the visual,” Taylor said.

  “Sorry, ma’am. What I’m trying to say is we might not be as fortunate next time.”

  “Stop being such a Chicken Little,” Lily said, cutting in before Ethan went on a rant. He didn’t talk much, but when he did, it was usually to espouse his questionable theories about why the world was going to hell in a handbasket. “People have been trying to force their way in here since 1912, but the only truly successful breaches have been in the movies. Bad ones, at that.” She turned back to Taylor. “Enjoy the rest of your night, ma’am. We’ll see you in the morning. The other agents will take it from here.”

  “Good night.”

  Taylor closed her bedroom door and, for good measure, double-checked the locks. She had started to think the hordes of security personnel roaming the house and grounds were overkill, but tonight’s incident had served to reinforce the need for extra protection.

  For the first time, it truly hit her she was no longer an ordinary citizen. She was now a potential target. She shuddered to think the romantic evening she had planned might have been ruined by an armed intruder rather than her ill-timed slip of the tongue.

  Dinner with Robby had ended on an unexpected note. She hadn’t planned on telling Robby she was starting to have feelings for her. Hell, she had barely told herself. The words had just slipped out. Now it was too late to take them back.

  A few days ago, she had felt certain she wasn’t in the market for something serious. Now she wasn’t so sure. It was much too soon to consider taking her relationship with Robby to the next level, but the thought was starting to appeal to her more and more every day. So was Robby.

  Robby’s reaction to her confession—stunned silence—had been disappointing, but it hadn’t come as a surprise. Taylor kept telling her parents she hadn’t signed up for this. Well, neither had Robby. And, unlike her, Robby didn’t seem to be willing to play the game.

  Before Taylor had kissed her at the Wizards game, Robby had said she could handle the attention. But had she really known what she might be letting herself in for? If national news outlets picked up on the story, she was about to be thrust into a very bright spotlight. Taylor didn’t want to force Robby to do anything against her will, but she didn’t want to lose her before she could see where their fledgling relationship might lead.

  As the daughter of a career politician, Taylor had gotten used to the attention over the years. Especially during an election cycle when news outlets were desperate to dig up dirt on candidates and their families. But this was on a much larger scale. The constant scrutiny and nonstop speculation were almost too much to take sometimes. Was Robby willing to subject herself to it in order to be with her, or would she, as any sensible person might, decide she liked her life just fine as it was?

  Robby had been burned once by someone who wouldn’t acknowledge her in public. Why would she take a chance on someone who had been ordered to do the same?

  Taylor’s phone rang as she watched the snow fall outside her window.

  “Hello,” Sheridan said. “Are we still on for brunch tomorrow?”

  Given what Robby had told her about Sheridan, agreeing to meet with her felt a bit disloyal. As if she doubted Robby’s version of events. But Sheridan was obviously anxious to tell her something, and she was curious to find out what it was. Robby had been up-front with her about everything, including the embarrassing facts Steven had unearthed during his basic background check. Robby had nothing left to hide, and Taylor didn’t have anything to fear. What harm could come from a simple brunch?

  “Tell me when and where.”

  * * *

  After he pulled to a stop in front of her apartment, the limo driver opened the passenger door and offered his hand. Robby stepped out onto the icy sidewalk. People in this neighborhood were so used to luxury vehicles no one gave her a second glance. But that could be about to change. If the story about her date with Taylor went viral, she wouldn’t remain “unidentified” for long. One five-minute image search and her real name could be revealed for all the world to see. The rest of her secrets probably wouldn’t be far behind. What then? She always made sure her social media posts didn’t depict her doing anything potentially embarrassing, but she couldn’t control what other people chose to put on their pages.

  She’d thought she was ready to play this game, but she was starting to feel like she was in over her head. Maybe it was time to change the rules.

  “Have a good evening.” The chauffeur tipped his cap, climbed back into the car, and drove away.

  Robby sighed, already missing the feel of the heated leather seats. She peered in the shop window. Inside the semi-lit store, Miles was sorting through the p
ile of RSVPs to the annual preview party he threw for select clients. His hands danced through the air as he talked. Steven, sporting a smile that made him look puppy dog adorable instead of Doberman pinscher menacing, hung on his every word.

  Robby could hear soft music playing. She spotted a half-empty bottle of wine resting between them. She hated to interrupt the cozy scene. She rapped her knuckles on the window to get their attention, then offered a quick wave when they looked her way. She demurred when Miles signaled for her to come inside. Their date was obviously going well and she didn’t want to come between them, which she feared was bound to happen in due time.

  Miles was a pro at keeping her secrets, but he didn’t have any of his own. If he and Steven continued to see each other, how long would it take for protecting her to become an issue for him? How long before he would feel the need to come clean so he and Steven could craft a relationship built on a foundation of truth instead of lies? She didn’t want to stand in the way of his happiness. And right now, he looked over the moon. She hoped her actions wouldn’t send him crashing back to earth.

  She turned to head upstairs. When she did, a burly man in a brown bomber jacket clipped her shoulder with his own. Even though it was only a glancing blow, she felt like she had been hit by an eighteen-wheeler. The force of the impact nearly knocked her off her feet. Her clutch purse flew out of her hands and landed in a pile of freshly plowed snow.

  “Watch it, asshole.”

  The man stopped walking and turned around. A thick scarf covered the lower half of his face. A Washington Nationals cap was pulled low over his forehead. His eyes—twin points of gray-flecked steel—bored into her. “You should be more careful.”

  The barely suppressed anger in his voice sent chills down Robby’s spine. Deciding to leave the rest of her profanity-laced tirade unsaid, she quickly bent and retrieved her purse. A large manila envelope lay next to it. The man must have dropped it when he bumped into her. She picked up the envelope, intending to return it to him.

  “Hey!” she called out. Her voice trailed off. She looked up and down both sides of the street, but the man was nowhere in sight.

  The closest drop box was several blocks away. She didn’t want to walk that far in the cold—and she didn’t want to risk running into the strange man again. One encounter was more than enough.

  She tucked the envelope under her arm and decided to place it in the store’s stack of outgoing mail. Miles could take it to the post office on Monday when he mailed the checks for the latest batch of bills. She input the four-digit entry code for the security door and headed upstairs.

  After she spent some quality time with Orson and took a long hot shower, she brewed a pot of coffee and queued up some Edith Piaf. She had long forgotten three-quarters of the French she had learned in high school, but even though she didn’t understand most of the words in Piaf’s songs, she was captured by the emotion behind them. She hummed along with the soaring vocals as she mentally replayed her date with Taylor.

  Taylor’s admission that she could see them becoming a couple had thrown her for a loop. Taylor already seemed to be applying the first coat of white paint to the picket fence surrounding their eventual dream home. Robby had tried settling down once and it had gotten her nothing but a broken heart. Did she really want to go down that road again? Even if she took a different path, the result would undoubtedly be the same. Only this time she would have to lick her wounds before the eyes of a curious public instead of in the arms of a trusted friend.

  Orson rolled over on his back and tapped her leg with his paw, demanding attention. He purred happily when she scratched him under the chin.

  “I wish all my problems were as easy to solve as yours.”

  Orson snapped to attention at the sound of a distant meow. He trotted across the room and settled on the windowsill.

  “Is one of your many girlfriends paging you?” Orson meowed in response, then pressed his nose against the double-paned glass. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

  While she waited for her computer to boot up, Robby took a hard look at the mysterious manila envelope. Her heart nearly stopped when she saw her name written on the front. With shaking hands, she opened the clasp on the back of the envelope and ran her finger under the flap. Holding her breath in case any strange powder fell out, she turned the envelope upside down and cautiously shook out its contents. A grainy eight-by-ten photograph landed on the ottoman. The picture was pulled from footage of her and Taylor on the kiss cam at the Wizards game. A crude drawing of a set of crosshairs was superimposed over their images. Beneath the picture was a message written in childlike block letters.

  President Crenshaw was chosen to save this great country from leftist degenerates like you. Let him do his job. Stay away from Taylor Crenshaw or she dies. And you get to watch. It was signed, A Concerned Citizen for a Better America.

  Robby dropped the photograph as if it burned her fingers. The man she had run into on the street was undoubtedly one of the many whack jobs who supported Terry Crenshaw and Arnold Dunphy with such zeal during the campaign that a large group of wary voters considered moving to Canada if either man was elected. This guy not only knew her name, he knew where she lived. Was the threat he had delivered real or a sick mind’s idea of a cruel practical joke?

  Part of her wanted to run downstairs, show the picture to Steven, and solicit his opinion. He would be able to tell if she should be concerned or merely annoyed. But getting Steven involved would mean sharing more of her secrets than she was willing to divulge.

  Seeming to sense her unrest, Orson consoled her by rubbing against her legs. She reached down and gave him a scratch.

  “Nothing’s wrong, buddy.” She tried and failed to sound more confident than she felt. “We’re going to be just fine.”

  She and Orson might come out unscathed, but what about Taylor? Had something she had written put Taylor in harm’s way? Her blog was supposed to provide entertainment, not inspiration for some kook to take a potshot at a member of the First Family.

  The unexpected ringing of her cell phone rattled her already jangled nerves. “Shit.” She pressed a hand to her chest to slow the beat of her racing heart. When she picked up her phone, she saw Taylor’s number printed on the display. Though she longed for assurance that Taylor was okay, she let the call go to voicemail. She was too frazzled to talk to anyone, especially Taylor. When her voicemail indicator flashed, she pressed the icon and listened to the message.

  “Hey, it’s Taylor. I’m calling to make sure you got home okay. I had a great time tonight. I hope you did as well. If I didn’t scare you off, give me a call sometime.”

  Robby played the message again, touched by the sincerity she heard in Taylor’s voice.

  “If I’m not careful,” Taylor had said over dinner, “I could fall in love with you.”

  If Robby wasn’t careful, she could do the same. If she hadn’t already.

  She picked up the photograph and stared at the most troubling part of the message. Stay away from Taylor Crenshaw or she dies. And you get to watch.

  She was willing to gamble on her future, but could she do the same with someone else’s life?

  Chapter Fourteen

  The muscles in their thick thighs and corded arms flexing in unison, their breath hanging in the air like clouds of cigarette smoke, four women in a fiberglass skull painted the familiar blue and gray colors of Georgetown University powered their boat through the frigid waters of the Potomac while their diminutive coxswain urged them on. The quartet was on a training run for the upcoming rowing season. Taylor was in training, too. She had entered the Runner’s Rite of Spring, the ten-mile race that served as one of the signature events of DC’s annual Cherry Blossom Festival. She wasn’t an elite runner so she didn’t have designs on winning the women’s division, but she hoped to make top three in her age group.

  She had less than three months to get in top shape. The way she felt today, she would need every second of prep time.
She was off her game. She struggled to keep pace with Steven as they ran along the shore. Four miles into their run, she had developed a stitch in her side that wouldn’t go away no matter what she tried. Six miles in, she started breathing through her nose to alleviate the pain.

  “How was your date?” she asked, trying to ignore the discomfort.

  “The evening went well.”

  Taylor waited for details until it became apparent none were forthcoming. She told herself to mind her own business since Steven was being so closed-mouthed, but curiosity got the better of her. “Are you going to see him again?”

  “As a matter of fact, we’re getting together tonight. He’s throwing a cocktail party at the store to preview some new finds for a few of his most loyal customers.”

  “My invitation must have gotten lost in the mail.”

  Steven glanced at the pedometer on his wrist to gauge their progress. “You can come with me if you like.”

  “Is Robby going to be there?”

  “I assume so.”

  Taylor caught her foot on something and nearly went down. After she righted herself, she slowed to a stop. Steven, Ethan, Lily, and the three other agents with them did the same. Ethan took point, his preferred position. Nostrils flaring like a bloodhound on the scent, he scanned the surrounding area for potential attackers.

  “What’s his story?” Taylor asked.

  None of the agents she knew had any qualms about acting as human shields. It was part of the job, they said. A duty they had chosen to perform. At times, though, Ethan seemed almost eager to place himself in harm’s way.

  “I’ve known him since basic training. He’s like a brother to me.”

  “He’s a little…intense.”

  “He isn’t as bad as he used to be. Being a husband and father has mellowed him out a little bit.”