Secrets and Lies

by Maggie Shayne

  “We’re going to have to do better than this. A lot better.”

  She nodded in agreement, but she wasn’t sure she could do much better than she was doing already.

  In her royal chambers, the “princess” sat on the floor, surrounded by her royal subjects. She wore blue jeans and a black ribbed tank top that had a red skull and crossbones on the front, above the words “I bite.” The bottom of the top didn’t quite meet the waistband of the jeans. Her feet were bare, her face was scrubbed of any hint of makeup, and her hair was washed free of all the mousse and spray, towel dried and left to fall into its familiar short and riotous mess.

  Vidalia sat in the rocking chair, her maid’s uniform rumpled. Kara and Selene sat on the floor to either side of Mel. In the middle were a big chalk board, several pieces of chalk, a pair of erasers and a bowl of popcorn. In front of them, the widescreen TV flicked between clips of “Katerina’s” speech, which had aired live in Tantilla via satellite, and shots of women protesting none too peacefully in the streets. The protests in Tantilla had sprung up within hours of the broadcast. Streets were blocked to traffic by angry women with signs and pictures of Katerina. Commerce had ground to a halt in the cities. Women were being arrested in droves, but the news channels reported that most were being released as soon as their husbands came to pick them up.

  Alex was out, of course. He had a lot to answer for, after all.

  Mel wrote on the board: Alex is going to kill me.

  Selene smiled softly and shook her head side to side.

  Kara took the board and wrote: Is he in very much trouble?

  Mel shrugged.

  Selene wrote: This is going to be a good thing, in the long run. She pointed to the women on the TV screen and wrote two more words: For them.

  Mel took the board back and wrote: But not for me!

  Muttering under her breath, Vidalia whispered. “Oh, for heaven’s sakes, what are they gonna do, arrest you?”

  Everyone shushed her at the same time, so it sounded like a tire had sprung a leak in the bedroom suite.

  “Ridiculous,” Vidalia said.

  Selene spoke aloud. “Those women in Tantilla already loved and admired their Princess Katerina. Her words were all it took to convince them that they deserved better treatment. You spoke to them, and you empowered them. You have given them a hero. And I am proud to be your…housekeeper.”

  “Me, too!” Kara added with emphasis.

  “Yeah, yeah, and I’m just over the moon to be your cook. Although with all the socializing you do, I’m afraid there’s not much cooking to be done.”

  “The popcorn’s great,” Mel said, in an effort to placate her mother.

  “Bah.” She headed out of the room in a huff. The other three giggled when she left.

  They continued watching the news, which cut to a live report from Tantilla, where President Belisle was about to give a news conference. He appeared on the screen, called for calm, asked the women of his nation to be patient and promised them that everything his daughter had said today was being taken under careful consideration.

  “Think he means it?” Kara asked.

  Mel shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

  “He may not mean it now,” Selene put in. “But the genie’s out of the bottle. She’s not going to go back in without a fight.”

  “And I pulled the cork,” Mel said. She closed her eyes and silently cursed her temper.

  Alex entered the room, took in the scene and seemed alarmed until he spotted the chalkboard. Mel stayed seated, while the other girls got to their feet quickly and hurried out of the room without a word. He just looked at her, and Mel continued to sit where she was and wondered just how angry he was right now.

  He had been prepared to rip her to shreds for what she’d done, the second he could get her alone to do so. So why wasn’t he?

  Instead, he was looking at her sitting on the floor with her legs stretched out in front of her crossed at the ankles, leaning back on her elbows. The jeans suited her. The top, the strip of flesh between it and the jeans, the long, bare arms and shoulders…and her feet. She had the cutest feet.

  Looking at her there, he saw a feisty, hot-tempered, ill-mannered, impatient, impulsive, passionate and surprisingly sexy woman. He liked the tint of her lips, a tea rose color, moist and pretty without being lined and darkened. He liked her eyes, which were fully dramatic enough without help from makeup. That color, like backlit sapphires, those thick dark lashes, didn’t need enhancement. He liked her hair undone, because it looked as if someone had just run his hands through it. And he liked her face clean, because he could read it better. The way it paled when she was afraid, or colored when she was embarrassed or angry.

  She was staring back at him with those big eyes, looking him over just as thoroughly. “I hope,” she said, in character, “that my impulsive statements of today didn’t cause trouble for you. That was never my intent.”

  “It wasn’t your place,” he told her. “You are not the president or even an elected official, and the things you said threw our country into turmoil.”

  “You’re still angry.”

  “I’m trying to be. I took a lot of heat for you today.”

  She sighed. “I’d gladly have taken it myself.”

  He met her eyes, got a little bit lost in their fire. “I don’t doubt that.”

  “I spoke from the heart. And you know as well as I do that every word I said was true and right.”

  He blinked, unable to argue with that. “Change takes time.”

  “It seemed to me, at that moment, that I didn’t have time.”

  What was she saying? “Katerina, your mission here is not to change the world.”

  “No. But if I change one little corner of the world in the process, then where’s the harm?”

  He closed his eyes. “The president—your father—is furious.”

  “His daughter isn’t.”

  He almost asked her how she could know that, but bit his lip in time.

  “Can we go away, Thomas? For a walk somewhere private? A park or—”

  He turned away quickly. “There’s no time. We have a state dinner at the mayor’s mansion.”

  She sighed, got to her feet and looked at the closetful of clothes she hated, and he could see that she was dreading the thought of getting back into costume again.

  “Afterward we’ll have time,” he promised.

  She shot him a grateful look. “Thank you.”

  He nodded and left her to get ready.

  Mel sat stiffly at the long, elegant table, draped in a pristine white, lace-trimmed cloth. The plates were heavy, even when nothing was on them, and they were edged in what she assumed was a thick band of real gold. Silver candlesticks, each holding a single white taper, stood in a row every foot or so along the center. The flames reflected on all the silverware, the spotless glasses and the wine they held.

  Like children at their first mixed-gender party, the guests had been seated boy, girl, boy, girl. The women at the table were all perfectly poised, comfortable in their hair and makeup, wearing the latest designer fashions. They moved and spoke and acted their parts so much more naturally than Mel could hope to do. Their manners were second nature. They were smart and witty and charming.

  She felt like a stray mongrel junkyard dog at a table of pedigreed poodles.

  “We were all very surprised by your comments at the luncheon today, Ms. Barde,” said a senator’s wife, who looked like a supermodel and spoke in a smooth Texas drawl, slight enough to make her seem even more attractive. “Whatever made you do such an impulsive thing?”

  Mel shrugged. “What makes you think it wasn’t planned?”

  The other woman blinked. “Well, I…it was obvious the way you just seemed to toss the prepared speech aside, calling it…what you did.”

  “My wife is growing proficient at adding theatrical twists to her public appearances,” Alex said smoothly. “And it did have the desired results.” />
  “Sheer brilliance,” another woman said. “I knew it all the time, of course.”

  The first one was eyeing her still.

  “You really don’t sound foreign at all.”

  “I was educated here in the States from the time I was thirteen,” Mel said in Katerina’s slow, gentle way. “Some even say they detect a hint of Southern accent in my voice from time to time. Which doesn’t surprise me. I did spend a lot of time in the South.”

  “Really? Where?”

  Mel lowered her head. “Must we spend the entire evening talking about me?”

  “You are the guest of honor.”

  Alex patted her hand from beside her. “Try to smile through it, love, as you tell the same old stories for the ten-thousandth time. It’s your duty to entertain your dinner companions.”

  “Here, now,” the mayor said from a few seats down. “If anything, it’s our duty to entertain the two of you! Enough with the questions.”

  The rest of the evening passed slowly, but at least bearably, as she was required to speak very little. She nearly freaked when the first course was served, and she glanced down at the overabundance of silverware flanking her plate. But Alex was quick. Nothing got past the man. He caught her eye, picked up the appropriate fork, and she remembered Bernadette’s instructions that one always used the silver on the outside first.

  It was only afterward, in the limo on the way back, that she realized she had survived the evening without any major disasters.

  “You can relax now,” Alex said as they rode in the limo back to their temporary home.

  “Speak for yourself.”

  “You did fine, Mel.”

  “Meaning that I didn’t create an international incident over dessert?”

  “Meaning that you were convincing in your role. Perhaps a little less friendly than Katerina would have been, but—”

  “Friendly? You expected me to be friendly to those phoney baloney rich bitches?”

  He blinked as if she’d struck him. “You have something against rich people?” he asked. “Don’t forget, your sister married one.”

  She crossed her arms and huffed. He studied her. “I thought they were perfectly polite to you. What is your problem?”

  “Were we even at the same table?”

  “As far as I know.”

  “Look, that one with the big red hair is sleeping with the short guy.”

  He blinked and gave his head a shake.

  “And the two blondes were taking potshots at each other all night long, and all the mayor’s wife kept doing was try to make sure everyone knew this was her party, and that creepy senator guy was hitting on me all night.”

  “He was what?”

  “Oh, come on, you didn’t notice? And here I was thinking you didn’t miss a thing.”

  “If I had noticed, I’d have damn well done something about it!” He seemed surprised by the decibel level of his own voice. When he spoke again, it was much more quietly. “Thomas wouldn’t take something like that very well, so I’d have to reflect his reactions.”

  “Oh. So what do you suppose wimpy little Katerina would have done to that political groupie who was eyeing you like a juicy steak?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “The one who invited herself to stop in for a visit tomorrow.”

  “Mel, that woman is a Federal judge.”

  “She’s a slut, and she’s after my man.”

  A slow smile spread over his face. “Oh, really?”

  “Well, that’s the way Katerina would see it. And I should react accordingly.”

  “You two are freakin’ pathetic,” Wes said from the front seat.

  “You’re lucky I didn’t get up and pop her in the nose,” Mel said, ignoring him.

  Alex closed his eyes.

  “What?” she asked.

  “I’m just imagining the scandal that would erupt if a foreign dignitary had punched a Federal judge over a state dinner. Good God. You’ve got to get yourself under control, Mel. Katerina is not impulsive or hot-tempered or jealous, so you can’t be, either.”

  “Who the hell said I was jealous?”

  There was a loud pop, just before the car veered sideways into a skid. Mel slammed into Alex’s chest, and he quickly held her there, pressing her down with one hand and pulling out his gun with the other. Wes grappled with the wheel. The car’s back end jerked from side to side like the tail of an agitated cat, before the vehicle finally came to a stop on the shoulder of the road in a cloud of dust and darkness.

  “What the hell was that?” Mel asked, as she started to sit up.

  Alex’s hand was still on her back, and he held her down. “Stay put.”

  “But—”

  “Just in case,” he said, his tone gentler. “It was probably just a blowout, but we need to make sure. Okay?”

  Looking up at him, she nodded once. Alex glanced into the front seat. “Wes, are you armed?”

  “Damn straight I am.” Wes lifted his hand slightly, and Mel saw the big revolver he held.

  “Watch her. Anybody besides me gets near this car, take her the hell out of here as fast as you can go. If you have to shoot, shoot. Save the second-guessing for later. Can you do that?”

  “Not only can I, but I’ve had to prove it a time or two. Go ahead.”

  “Go?” Mel asked. “Go where?”

  “I need to get out, take a look around, check the tire.” He glanced at Wes again, maybe to tell him to call for backup, but Wes was already putting the mobile phone to his ear. So he opened his door and got out, gun ready.

  Mel peered out the limo window from a low position and watched his every move, terrified something was going to happen to him. He looked up and down the road, scanned the bushes along the roadside, beyond the ditch, but Mel doubted there was anything to be seen. Minimal lighting, full dark outside, he’d be lucky if he could see a freaking hit squad if they were determined to stay hidden. He made the effort all the same, and she noticed he kept one eye on the car the entire time.

  “Was that a gunshot, Wes?” she asked, as she watched Alex.

  “I don’t know. It could have been.”

  “Shouldn’t he be in here, waiting for help to arrive?”

  “It’s not in his nature to sit and wait.”

  “No, it’s in his nature to parade around out there like a great big target.”

  Wes shook his head. “It’s in his nature to put himself between the shooter and his intended target.”

  “That’s bull. That only applies if the intended target is some VIP he’s been assigned to protect. I’m nothing. I’m a prop.”

  “Oh, I think he’d disagree with you there.”

  She looked over the seat at Wes, but he averted his eyes.

  Finally Alex gave up and came back to the vehicle, then bent to take a look at the tire.

  Mel heard sirens. The cavalry had arrived.

  Alex noticed that Mel took her time in the tub that night. There wasn’t much he didn’t notice about her. He imagined she was soaking away every hint of the woman she seemed to be getting so sick and tired of. She flat-out refused to wear the frilly white nightgown Bernadette had left out for her. Instead, she walked into the living room of the suite wearing a hockey jersey and a pair of ankle socks. White ones. She’d towel dried her hair and washed off all her makeup.

  Alex sat on that small settee, tired to the bone. He’d peeled off the fake coat of whiskers. He had a decent start on some real ones underneath it, and he hoped they would grow in quickly enough that he could stop wearing the phony beard. Mel walked to the settee, sat down beside him. He guessed she must want to talk to him, and she couldn’t do that from a chair across the room.

  He had loosened his tie, and the top button of his shirt was undone. His hair was less than neat. Combined with the unshaven face, he figured he probably looked pretty bad to her. Certainly less like the man she had referred to as a GQ P.I.

  He was watchin
g the late news. They were showing clips of Mel’s speech today, and then a still shot of the limo as its tire was being changed on the side of the road. The two of them had been long gone by the time that shot had been taken. The cops had hauled them both back here quick as a flash. Nobody wanted the beloved princess killed on his watch.

  Alex studied her as she sat there beside him. He picked up the remote without looking away from her, thumbed the volume button until the television was far too loud and whispered, “You all right?”

  “That depends,” she whispered back. “Was it a blowout or a gunshot we heard tonight?”

  Alex thought about lying to her. Would have, if she had been anyone else. But she wasn’t. She was tough enough to handle the truth, and sharp enough to know it when she heard it. “I couldn’t tell by looking. We should have an answer by morning, though.”

  “I don’t understand what the point would be in someone shooting out our tire.”

  He shrugged. “They might not have been aiming for the tire.”

  She held his eyes with hers for a moment. A creature with eyes like hers ought to be timid, he thought. Shy and easily frightened. Doe eyes. She didn’t act like a doe. She held his gaze without blinking and said, “I want a gun.”

  A flat-out no jumped to his lips, but he didn’t let it out. She wasn’t any ordinary woman. He could tell her there was no need, and she would just counter, that if there were no need, he wouldn’t be carrying one. Nor would the Secret Service agents assigned to her, nor would Wes. There was no point in pretense with her. No need for it, either. “Have you ever fired one?”

  She nodded. “I live in the country. I’d never been without a gun until the twins were born.”

  “What are you used to?”

  “A twenty-gauge shotgun,” she said, “but I suppose that would look a little conspicuous. I can handle a revolver. I’ve never fired a semiautomatic like you’re carrying, and I think I prefer not to. So a revolver.”

  “It’ll have to be small enough to carry concealed. I’ll get you something tomorrow.”

  “A snub-nosed thirty-eight will be just fine. Don’t go bringing me some dainty little twenty-two. If I have to shoot someone, I want to do some damage.”