Can't Buy Me Love

by Abigail Drake

  Norah opened the box of chocolates and plopped one into her mouth. She picked out one filled with strawberries and cream, my favorite, and put it into my mouth. We’d been friends since kindergarten. We had no boundaries. She pulled out a list from her purse.

  “What’s that?” I asked, my mouth full of fruity, chocolate bliss.

  She showed it to me. “These are all the people who’ve contacted Ella, asking for an interview. I’ve listed them in order of importance.” She rattled off a list of names of the most prestigious news organizations in the country. “Just to let you know, Patricia said you’re to have all the time you need to recover. She said it in front of the news crews who came to get some shots of the office. Generous of her, huh? Well, at least now she can’t take it back. I think you could milk at least two or three weeks out of it. I’ve taken a week off work to deal with this, too. Patricia didn’t like it. I thought her head was going to explode, but you need my help, so she had to listen. This is big stuff.”

  I blanched. “Because so many people want to talk to me?”

  “Yes,” said Norah. While I’d been flitting around in college reading Jane Austen and dating men with beards, Norah had been doing something useful. Pursuing a degree in public relations and marketing. She was a genius at it. “And rumor is that Burkhart Books is pulling out the big guns. They’re planning to offer a book contract to you, the big kind. The kind you cannot refuse. But we have to start here, with these interviews. This is step one. We’re going to put these in order, respond to them one by one, and get you ready for tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow?”

  “Your first public appearance. You’re getting discharged, and the cameras will be rolling. We have one chance to get it right, so that’s what we’re going to do. And I’m here to help.”

  ~

  Norah knew her stuff. When it came time for my discharge, and my first appearance in my new role as America’s most heroic sweetheart, Norah had me ready. My makeup was flawless, thanks to Ella, who was naturally gifted in the cosmetics department. She did it right before rushing off to school that morning. And my outfit, hand chosen by Norah, made tears come to my eyes.

  “This was Mom’s,” I said. The Chanel suit, which brought out my natural skin tones and complimented my red hair, fit perfectly. As a bonus, it matched the shoes Nico had given me. Thank goodness, because I never would have fit into my mother’s shoes. She’d worn a six. The last time I’d fit into her shoes had been in the fifth grade.

  “And you should carry flowers.” Norah looked around the room, which was like a flower shop at this point. “Which ones do you want?”

  “The lilacs,” I said, without hesitation.

  “Good choice,” said Norah. “What about the rest of the flowers?”

  I thought about it. “Keep the notes so I can send out thank you cards, but could you send the flowers to the patients at St. James Hospital? They took such good care of Dad after the accident. How’s he doing, by the way? Did you see him this morning?”

  Norah’s eyes grew shuttered. “He’s fine. The same.”

  “Does he know about what happened to me?”

  “Of course. We told him.”

  I didn’t ask what he’d said in response. I could tell from the way Norah acted he probably hadn’t said much at all. I shouldn’t be surprised, but it caused a sharp stab of pain in my heart. For all his faults, my father had always been there for me--fun and so much larger than life. Since my mother died, it was like he’d shrunk, both mentally and physically, and his spirit, his joie de vivre, had died a cold, miserable death the moment my mother’s heart had stopped beating.

  Norah handed me a mirror. “Here she is, ladies and gentlemen. America’s darling debutant and their favorite superhero socialite, Ms. Chloe Burkhart.”

  I shook my head at her, but when I looked into the mirror, I had to admit Norah knew what she was doing. My hair had been brushed until it shone. She pulled it over to one side so the bruises and scrapes on my cheek were partially covered, then she demonstrated how to show them to the camera at exactly the right moment.

  “You need to be perfect, but not too perfect. They have to see what happened to you, the damage done to mar your delicate porcelain skin.”

  I snorted. “Really, Norah?”

  She nodded, her face serious. “Trust me. Do it exactly as we practiced. The key today is not to say too much. We want them hungry for more, so we’ll reveal your story one delicious tidbit at a time.”

  “You’re kind of scary. You realize that, don’t you?”

  She shrugged. “At least, I’m using my powers for good instead of evil, as you’ve always encouraged me to do.”

  She was right. Polar opposites in high school, Norah was the one to get into trouble. A straight ’A’ student and the president of every club, I was the one trying to keep her out of it. We’d been good for each other. I’d had a lot more fun thanks to her, and she’d had fewer detentions, thanks to me. The perfect friendship.

  A nurse came and wheeled me into the hallway. To my surprise, Nico stood there, waiting.

  “Hello, handsome foreign man,” said Norah. “Do you wake up like that, all tall, dark, and delectable, or do you have to work on it? I have a feeling it’s completely natural, which kind of pisses me off.”

  Nico blinked in surprise, appearing unsure about how to respond. Norah did it a lot to people. She liked to keep them a bit off balance.

  “She has no filter,” I said. “You’ll get used to it.”

  He nodded, his eyes taking in my suit, the heels, and the lilac blossoms clutched in my hands. “You’re looking well today, Ms. Burkhart.”

  Norah snorted. “She looks better than well and you know it, Nico. She’s perfect.”

  I mouthed the words shut up to Norah, and turned to Nico. “What are you doing here?”

  Norah answered for him. “He’s on a special mission from the prince. They still haven’t caught the evil bugger who shot you, so Nico’s going to hang out with you a bit, to keep you safe.”

  Images of Nico strolling through our vacant apartment and seeing my almost catatonic father, in his wheelchair, flashed through my mind. “There’s no need. I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

  Nico gave me a curt little bow. “It isn’t up to me. The prince commands it.”

  “Oh.” For some reason his words made me feel a bit deflated. And the idea of him seeing how we lived, the pity I’d find in his eyes, almost made me rethink this whole venture.

  Private things should be kept private, and the life Ella and I now shared was the most private thing of all. Our dirty little secret. No one needed to see it. I’d only let Norah in on it because she insisted, and she’d practically threatened to knock down my door if I didn’t.

  Norah watched me carefully. “We’ll discuss the details later. It’s time to get Chloe home. She needs to be alone for a while so she can get some rest.”

  I looked up at her and nodded, grateful she understood my feelings. “Thanks, Norah.”

  “That’s what friends are for, Red. Now let’s get this show on the road.”

  She didn’t have to remind me to smile shyly for the cameras, or to answer the reporters’ questions in a soft and slightly unsure voice. We’d rehearsed it, and I was a quick learner.

  “Ms. Burkhart. Can you tell us what occurred exactly?”

  I widened my eyes, making them appear even larger in my still pale face. “I’m not sure. It happened so quickly…and I hit my head.”

  I adjusted my hair ever so slightly, in the most subtle of motions, and turned my face far enough the ugly purple and yellow marks on my cheek were clearly visible.

  I bruised easily, and even the smallest bump caused an angry purple mark to appear. Face planting on the asphalt had been a lot more than a little bump, and my bruises were spectacular today. Even the seasoned newspapermen who stood in front of me gasped when they saw them.

  “You are so brave,” said one of them, staring at me with wh
at looked like adoration in his eyes.

  I lowered my lashes, trying to be as demure and modest as possible. “I was in the right place at the right time. Lucky me,” I said with a little smile.

  Camera bulbs flashed as the reporters quickly jotted down what I’d said in their notebooks. Norah had crafted the sentence, but I’d added the “Lucky me” part at the end spontaneously. I was glad I did. Norah gave me a nod of approval.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “Chloe is exhausted and still recovering from her surgery. She needs to rest.”

  They shouted out additional questions, but I waved to them as the nurse wheeled me to the waiting limo. It had two small Latovian flags perched on either side of the hood, and a uniformed driver opened the door for me. I stood up slowly from the wheelchair, well aware the crowd of reporters still filmed me. I turned to them, placing a small and yet extremely brave smile on my lips, as Norah and I had practiced, before allowing Nico to help me gently slide into the car, wincing a bit when my bottom hit the seat.

  “Thank you,” I murmured. Although I’d been playing the part of the wounded heroine well, it had hurt to get into the car. More than I’d expected. Maybe I should have taken those nurses up on their offers of extra painkillers. I smiled in spite of the pain, trying not to let Nico see how much I was hurting.

  Nico, it seemed, wasn’t easily fooled. “We’ll have you home soon,” he said softly. “The reporter was right. You are very brave.”

  I let out a little laugh. “Is there any other option? If so, I’d love to take it.”

  I leaned back against the leather interior of the car and closed my eyes. Nico buckled me in, giving me a slightly awkward pat on the shoulder, before shutting the door of the limo and moving to his spot in the front of the car. Norah slid in beside me, and I was asleep in minutes. I woke up about twenty minutes later, as Nico carried me into my apartment building. I was surprised to find I liked having his strong arms wrapped around my body. He carried me as if I weighed practically nothing and made me feel safe and protected, something I hadn’t experienced in years. But I couldn’t let myself get comfortable with it, or with him.

  I insisted he put me down once we reached the elevator, and didn’t invite him into our apartment. I said goodbye to him formally, at the front door, giving him a handshake and a small nod. He handed me my bouquet of lilacs, and shot me a quizzical look, like he didn’t understand my strange behavior.

  “I’ll check in on you tomorrow, and there is a guard posted both outside your door and downstairs. You should be safe, as long as you don’t venture out. Are you in agreement with me on that?”

  “Yes, of course.” Standing upright had become a challenge. I leaned heavily on Norah, wanting to climb into bed and stay there the rest of the day. Nico seemed to understand I’d hit my breaking point.

  “I shall leave you to get some rest,” he said, with an elegant bow of his dark head.

  As he walked away, I realized I’d seen something flash in Nico’s eyes earlier while I’d spoken with the reporters. Something which scared me.

  Doubt.

  Although the reporters lapped up my words like a cat laps up cream, I could tell Nico wasn’t buying it. He didn’t believe my story, and, unless I could convince him otherwise, I could be in some big trouble indeed.

  ~

  “Wake up, sleepy head.”

  Norah barged into my room the next morning with the subtlety of a freight train, ranting about what a nightmare Patricia was and how much she hated working at Wilson Publishing. Her diatribe was liberally sprinkled with “F” bombs, typical for Norah when she got fired up about something.

  “So, in conclusion, I stopped into the office today long enough to get an earful. Patricia is a bitch, but she’s trying to play nice right now because you’re like America’s new sweetheart. The cow.” She let out her breath in a huff. “But I’m not here to talk about Patricia and her evil ways. I’m here to talk about you.” She wore a black and white checkered wool skirt, a black turtleneck, and had her crazy, curly hair pulled into a bun. Her ‘business look,’ which meant I was in trouble. The calculating gleam in her eye made it even worse.

  I stretched, feeling the faint pull and twinge of my stitches on my bum. Not as bad as yesterday, though. I also felt less drowsy and foggy, but I still wasn’t quite up to dealing with Hurricane Norah yet. Ella must have read my mind. She scurried into my room, in her school uniform, with a tray in her hands. It was piled high with pancakes and a steaming cup of coffee.

  “Bless you. Leaving for school already?” I asked, glancing at the clock on my wall.

  “I have an early meeting before class,” she said, kissing my cheek. She smelled like a mix of lily of the valley and pancake syrup.

  “Freaking overachiever,” grumbled Norah. “Just like your sister.”

  Ella kissed Norah, too, and skipped out of the room. I heard her call out a goodbye to our father, but she got no response. Not that we expected one at this point. A few minutes later, the door to the apartment opened and closed behind her as she stepped outside.

  “She’s a good kid,” said Norah, eying my pancakes. I pushed them toward her. My stomach still felt a little iffy. I decided to stick to coffee for the moment. Norah munched on the pancakes. “And an awesome cook.”

  “She had to learn,” I said. “I’m hopeless. If she didn’t, we’d all starve.” I shot a nervous glance to the door. “How is he today?”

  Norah shrugged. “The same. Silent. Staring. Sad. He did eat breakfast without any prodding, which is a good thing. More than I can say for you.”

  I rubbed my belly. “I can’t help it. I’m still queasy. It’s from the anesthesia…and other things.”

  Worry. Stress. Fear. All the normal stuff. Although I’d been exhausted, I had trouble falling asleep last night. I’d turned things over and over in my mind, trying to figure out the right course of action. I hated lying to the media, and presenting myself as something I wasn’t, but it felt like a beautiful gift had been placed in my lap the minute the bullet had penetrated my butt. I needed to get over the guilt and accept it, but my conscience’s inner voice would not shut up. I let out a frustrated sigh, and Norah gave me a funny look.

  “You’re doing the right thing, Chloe.”

  Norah didn’t know I hadn’t saved the prince’s life on Monday, but she could read me like a book and knew I was upset. She thought my guilt stemmed from making the incident work to my full advantage. Of course, if she had known the truth, her reaction would have been exactly the same. Although she had a good heart, Norah’s moral compass could be a bit skewed at times.

  “I know. But it feels…tawdry.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Do you know what’s tawdry? The fact that I caught Ella darning socks this morning. She’s turning into something from Oliver Twist, for God’s sake. What’s next? Selling apples on the street corner? Before you know it, the kid will be joining a gang of orphan pickpockets and then we’ll all be sorry.”

  My lips twitched. Norah always made things better. “Thanks, No-No.”

  She kissed the top of my head. “Don’t mention it,” she said. “And never call me No-No again. I thought we went over that. It’s bad enough my parents still use the stupid nickname. You need to stop.”

  For the first three years of her life, Norah said nothing except, “No-no.” I had a feeling it was because she heard it so much growing up. Norah had not been an easy child. She’d been born naughty.

  “Fine. Sorry. What did you bring with you?” I nodded toward the large canvas tote Norah had dropped on the floor next to my bed. She lifted it with a smile and showed me the contents. Filled to the brim with newspapers and magazines, most of them featured the dreamy Prince Alexander of Latovia.

  “I brought you eye candy.” She picked up a copy of a celebrity magazine with the prince on the cover. Golden hair, blue eyes, a sexy grin, and a perfectly placed dimple in one cheek. Of all the millions of people in New York, I’d chosen him to slam i
nto, and accidentally take a bullet for. Maybe my luck was changing.

  Incredibly handsome, and yet he looked nothing at all like Nico. They were complete opposites, in fact. Nico was like a large, grumpy bear. The prince a sleek, majestic lion. Nico rarely smiled. The prince always seemed to be having a great time. I tried to imagine Nico grinning, or even laughing. It was near impossible to do. Night and day. Dark and light. I had to wonder who was more typical of the Latovian people. Were they blond and happy like the price, or did they have Nico’s brooding nature and silky black hair?

  The thought of running my hands through his hair made my fingers curl into my palms. He might be sullen, crabby and a little hostile at times, but he was still entirely too hot for his own good.

  Norah showed me a photo of the prince sunbathing in Monaco. On a yacht, of course. If possible, his grin looked even sexier, and the man had the body of a god. “Holy wow.”

  “My thoughts exactly,” said Norah. “And you get to meet him in person. Tomorrow.”

  I nearly spilled my coffee. “What?”

  “I’ve arranged it all. Don’t worry. He wants to thank you for saving his life. I’ll bring you clothes in the morning and help you get ready. I have an adorable dress you can wear. I bought it ages ago, but I’ve never used it. We’ll make it an early Christmas gift.”

  Norah always bought things for me and pretended they were cast off items she didn’t want. Normally, I’d yell at her, but today my attention was focused somewhere else.

  “Wait…he’s coming here?”

  She sat down on the side of the bed and squeezed my hand. “Calm down. Not here. No one will see the apartment…or your father. I promise. I said we’d meet in a suite at the Belmont Hotel, right next door.”