Pretend for Daddy

by Hamel, B. B.

  Ruby

  For some reason, watching politicians take bribes like that, even if they weren’t the actual politicians, still felt a little…

  Unfair, I guess is the obvious word.

  I mean, why should Knox get special treatment just because he has a big checkbook?

  But that’s how the world works. And I should feel lucky that I have him. Otherwise, I’d be dead by now, or at least still on the run.

  We’re at work the next day and things seem to have fallen back into something of a normal pattern. We’re sleeping in different rooms but he’s constantly on the phone so I barely even see him at night.

  At least so far.

  Who knows what it’s going to be like…

  When this is all over.

  But I can’t let myself get that far.

  “Ruby,” Knox says, standing in his doorway.

  I get up and obey his summons like always. I stand in front of his desk as he sits back down and looks up at me.

  “Yes?” I ask him.

  “We have another dinner tonight,” he says.

  “Who are we bribing this time?”

  He grins at me. “Unfortunately, these aren’t the kind of people we can bribe.”

  “Really?” I arch an eyebrow. “I didn’t know there were honest people left in the world.”

  “Oh, there aren’t.” He waves that idea away dismissively. “These are people that have as much money as I do. They don’t care about that.”

  “I see.” I chew on my lip. “So what are we giving them? I assume you have to give them something.”

  “Something…” He trails off and sighs. “Favors, mostly. I’ll do work for them or I’ll owe them. Something like that.”

  “Okay.” I take a breath and let it out. “I guess I’ll be entertaining again?”

  He stands with a smile on his lips. “You know, I didn’t say yet… you were lovely last night.” He comes around his desk and steps toward me. I stay still, not daring to move as he trails his fingers down my shoulder and along my arm. Shivers move up my spine… desire wells its way into my stomach.

  “Thank you,” I finally manage to say.

  “You did exactly what I hoped you’d do…” He trails off, looking at me thoughtfully.

  “What?”

  “How did you know?”

  I shrug a little. “I just… figured. I don’t know. I was just being nice.”

  “Ah,” he says softly. His fingers trail into my hair before catching hold. Not hard, but not soft, either. He tilts my chin back and I feel my heart race. A strange, fervid longing rings in my bones just looking into his eyes. “You’ll have to do the same thing tonight, but on a bigger scale.”

  “Bigger?”

  “We’ll be attending a charity gala.”

  I laugh a little uncertainly. “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.” He sighs and lets me go, stepping away over toward his windows. “I know, it’s a cliché, but rich people love to throw charity events. It makes them feel like they’re not just leeching away all the money in the world while giving everyone an excuse to drink too much and network with each other.”

  “We’re not meeting with politicians?”

  He looks back at me with a gloomy, strange expressing on his face. “No,” he says. “We’re not. We’re meeting with the power behind the power, my dear.”

  I chew on my lip again, unable to help myself. An old habit, coming back with a vengeance.

  “I have a dress ready for you back at the apartment,” he says, looking out the window again, his hands behind his back. “And I’ll have a car ready by six. You’re free to leave here whenever you want. Take as long as you need to get ready.”

  I let out a breath. It’s strange, I should be happy that I get half the day off from work… but I can’t shake the anxiety.

  “You seem worried,” I point out.

  “This is the harder part.” He turns to me and I can tell he’s doing his best not to look strained. “With the politicians, it’s money. But with these people, it’s always something else… something harder.”

  “I wish I could help,” I whisper.

  “You can.” He walks over to me again, a real smile on his face again. “Be beautiful and charming.”

  “Easy. I wake up gorgeous.”

  “You really do.” He tilts my chin toward him again. “See you tonight, my Ruby.”

  I step away from him, letting his fingers trail along my skin until I’m back and turning to the door.

  I feel his eyes on my body and I wonder…

  Does he really mean it?

  He keeps calling me his… calling me beautiful.

  I don’t know what he means and what he’s just saying for my benefit.

  This is supposed to be a business arrangement for him. I never imagined he’d think of me as anything more than just a convenient vessel for a baby. I’m just a womb with legs.

  That can’t be true though. Not after everything so far…

  I head back to the apartment, trying to decide if there really is something sparking between us, something real beyond the little game we’re playing.

  The game of life and death… and sex and love.

  * * *

  Knox picks me up at six on the dot and we’re off. The gala is being held in a large banquet hall on the first floor of a hotel right off Chestnut Street, right in the heart of the city barely two minutes from city hall.

  From the outside, it looks like any other event. People in suits and ties and women in expensive-looking dresses wander around… until we get inside and it becomes clear what this is.

  Platters of champagne, clearly expensive. Heaping mounds of fresh seafood, steaks, and other hors d’oeuvres that I can barely name. Absolutely everyone is wearing their finest, and some of the dresses the women are wearing are truly striking.

  Knox put me in a simple black dress with a single ruby necklace. The dress clings to my bust and curves and flares slightly down along my thighs. The heels are simple but designer and I’m glad I know how to walk in them. Otherwise, I’d look like a moron compared to the women floating around gracefully in their absurdly uncomfortable and impractical footwear.

  “Ready?” Knox whispers to me as we step into the hall.

  “Ready,” I say. “But one thing. What is this whole thing for, anyway?”

  He hesitates. “You mean, what charity?”

  “Yeah.”

  He frowns and looks around. “Well, shit. I don’t even know.”

  I laugh. “That’s bad.”

  “I bet half these people have no clue. Hell, I bet more than half.”

  “Does it matter? You just write a check either way.”

  “Bingo.” He gives me his arm. “Come on, my wife. Let’s mingle.”

  I let him lead me into the room. Instantly we’re talking with people I’ve never seen before, although Knox acts like they’re all his best friends. I can tell he’s straining a little bit… clearly uncomfortable with all the friendly small talk and forced pleasantries.

  But he’s good at it anyway. I don’t think you get into his position of power and wealth without being good at coming off as friendly and interested. He makes whoever he’s talking to feel like the center of the world, and it’s an intoxicating trait.

  I can tell right away that I’m something of a novelty. “How’d you tie him down?” one woman asks me, leaning close. “I never thought Knox would, you know, tie the knot.”

  “Good luck,” I say, smiling.

  “Good genetics, more like.” She gives me an appraising look. “You’re very pretty. And what, half his age?”

  “Just about.”

  “Good for you, sweetheart.” She puts her hand on my arm. I have no clue what her name is. “Very good for you.” She winks and is drawn away a moment later.

  It feels so much like that conversation with the random woman back in the office… except she wasn’t being horrible about it.

  She seemed to
genuinely think I landed a good deal.

  Which shouldn’t surprise me. Knox is clearly very popular, just based on the number of people we talk to. After a while, the names start to coalesce in my mind and lose shape entirely.

  “How are you holding up?” Knox asks me after about an hour of this. We’re standing off to the side, tucked away in the space between the bar and the back wall. He hands me a glass of champagne which I sip gratefully.

  “Fine,” I say. “Just a lot of people. You weren’t kidding about this being on a bigger scale.”

  He sighs and looks around. “Honestly, you haven’t met anyone important.”

  I groan. “Seriously?”

  “Not yet.”

  “What about that one guy… the Duke of Whateveristan?”

  “You mean Lionel?”

  “His name was Lionel?”

  Knox laughs. “He’s not really a duke. Just likes to pretend. Or maybe he bought the title, I’m not actually sure, to be honest. But he’s nobody, just some rich guy part of an ancient family with roots back into the Inquisition. He could probably buy this whole city ten times over but he has no real power.”

  “What does that even mean?” I ask him. “I mean, ‘real power.’ What even is that?”

  He looks back at me, a little smile on his lips. He steps closer to me, one hand on the small of my back. “Do you really want to know?” he whispers.

  “Go ahead. You’re dying to explain.”

  His eyes twinkle. “Real power is influence. Money is one thing, but connections are another. The more connections and influence you have, the more power you accrue. The ones with the real ability to make change are like little spiders in the middle of some vast web, tugging at strands… making their dead flies dance.”

  I picture rich men in expensive suits laughing gleefully as the poor dance for them… and shudder with revulsion.

  “Who are we looking for?” I ask him.

  “His name is John.”

  I can’t help but feel a little disappointed. “John? Not a duke or a king or something?”

  “Just John. At least that’s the name he gives people.” Knox cocks his head, looking around the crowd. “He’s what you’d call a political operative… but only came into the scene about ten years ago with the advent of social media.”

  “Social media?”

  “He runs social media campaigns for people… ah, there he is.”

  I follow Knox’s gaze and spot a man walking through the crowd. He’s not in a hurry, but he’s not walking slowly. He’s moving with purpose, eyes up, a little frown on his face.

  “He’s young,” I say, unable to hide my surprise.

  “Come on.”

  Knox leads me right to him. John stops in his tracks as we approach and his frown turns into a neutral expression… which I guess is his version of a smile.

  “Hello, Knox,” John says.

  “Glad you could make it.” The men shake hands.

  “Who is this?” John’s eyes land on me and I feel a chill run down my spine. Those are eyes that have seen things, I’m sure of it.

  “This is my wife,” Knox says. “Ruby.”

  I shake John’s hand. He finally smiles, ever so slightly. “I heard you married. I can see why.”

  He releases my hand.

  I give him a quick once-over, trying to decide where I know him from. He has one of those faces, totally nondescript and boring. There’s nothing interesting about him at all: brown hair cut short, brown eyes, pale skin, no beard. He looks like a thousand other people. Even his clothes are drab and boring, just a simple suit, no frills, nothing at all to identify him.

  The man’s like a ghost in this room among all these people trying so desperately to stand out.

  “I’m sorry you weren’t invited,” Knox says. “I wasn’t sure what you were going by these days.”

  “Oh, no worries. You know me. I prefer to stay hidden.” He looks at Knox for a long moment. “I got your message.”

  “Good. Since you’re here, I guess you want to talk.”

  “I’m open to it.”

  “Come on.” He leads John away from the crowd, back to the little spot we had been standing in a moment before. John glances at me then back at Knox, almost like he’s surprised I’m following.

  “What you want can be done,” John says without any leadup. I’m a little surprised at the total lack of small talk. With everyone else, Knox spent time asking about them, checking in on their lives, showing interest.

  With this man, he’s getting right to business. It almost makes my feet feel chilly.

  “But the price is the issue,” Knox says.

  John nods. “Of course.”

  “What do you want?”

  “I have clients that need work done.”

  “What clients?” Knox asks warily.

  “You won’t like it and I’m not going into specifics here. But suffice to say, they’re not American, and many people don’t want to see them succeed.”

  I feel a sudden weight fall down over my body. I look between the two men and it takes me a second to realize that they’re talking about global politics. They’re talking about pulling strings… they’re two spiders in their webs, negotiating between them.

  “How distasteful?” Knox asks. “I have certain lines.”

  “No genocide,” John says, as if that were something on the table in other situations. “No mass murder.”

  “Hm.” Knox frowns for a moment. “Okay then.”

  “That’s it?” I blurt out.

  Both men look at me. Knox seems annoyed but John seems thoughtful.

  “And her,” John says. “What about her?”

  Knox shakes his head almost violently. “Absolutely not.”

  “I know you married her, but—”

  “No,” he says firmly. “She’s not on the table.”

  John gives me that flat stare again. I feel so creeped out I want to vomit.

  “Okay,” he says finally, looking back to Knox. “You help my people and I’ll help you. I’ll have a secure list delivered to you with further details. You start work tomorrow… and I’ll start as well.”

  “Deal.”

  They shake. I think I just watched the world change.

  “Good luck,” John says to me before walking away.

  Knox watches him go. He doesn’t say a word. He just grabs the first available glass of champagne, downs it, and shakes his head.

  “What just happened?” I ask him softly, sliding my arm through his arm.

  He leans on me, which surprises me. He looks exhausted, haggard, like he just aged a year.

  “Just made a deal with the devil,” he whispers.

  “What does that mean?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “Knox. This is all for me. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t…”

  I trail off as he turns and faces me, taking my hands in his.

  “Don’t,” he says. “What I do is my decision. I told you that I’d keep you safe, and now we’re a big step closer. John is going to get that proposal in front of a lot of important people. That wheel will turn.”

  I nod a little. “But what did you have to give him in exchange?”

  “Nothing I can’t live with.”

  I want to push him harder but I know that won’t get me anywhere.

  So I do something else instead on the spur of the moment.

  I stand up on my tiptoes and kiss his lips.

  He pulls me against him and kisses me deeper. It takes me off guard but I melt into that kiss.

  When we break apart, I notice people watching. I turn bright red and Knox grins, looking like himself again.

  “What’s wrong, Ruby?” he asks. “We should give the people what they want.”

  He kisses me again, this time with a flourish. When we break apart, there’s laughter. He grins and waves… playing up the audience.

  I can’t help but feel embarrassed… but the kiss worked.
For some reason, my kiss made him feel better.

  I file that away, not ready to think too much about what that means.

  16

  Knox

  I get the secure thumb drive the next morning and it’s exactly what I knew it would be: dictators and thieves.

  At least there aren’t any known mass murderers or killers on the list, but still.

  The shit I do for…

  Well, for this.

  For her.

  Days pass and nothing happens.

  Well, a lot happens. I make more calls, I send the proposal everywhere. I threaten, shout, bribe some more. But nothing happens.

  One week finally passes and we’re at the halfway point. Meanwhile, I’m doing triple-duty, putting in part-time on the mayor’s upcoming campaign along with John’s list of tin-pot dictators that all need a little boost.

  I want to act like it’s not a kind of fucking hell, but I’d be lying.

  I think Ruby can see it. I’m up late every night, barely spending any time with her, barely spending any time with anyone. I’m busy working all the extra jobs I’ve agreed to take on while still trying to ram this proposal through a state government that desperately does not want any more casinos in city limits.

  “You’re going to work yourself to death.”

  Ruby’s voice cuts through my own dire inner monologue Sunday afternoon. I look over at her and rub my temples. I’ve been furiously typing away on my laptop for two hours trying to get through this pile of shit I need to finish… or else risk bringing down the wrath of John.

  Which I really don’t want to do.

  “It’s either work myself to death or not work enough and end up dead.” I arch an eyebrow. “You can see the problem.”

  She drifts over to me. I’m sitting at the kitchen table, my things spread out in front of me. She sits down on a chair, pushing a pile of folders onto the floor with a splat. I wince a little but don’t reprimand her.

  She’s right, after all. I am working too hard. There’s just no alternative.

  “Let’s do something fun.”

  I laugh. “Seriously?”

  “Come on.”

  “We’re going to die in a week if I don’t figure this out.”