Chapter Twelve
Gabby watched Prince with the wicked witch as they came into the hall. Bile rose in her throat as she watched the She Devil hold his attention. When she was younger, Prince and the witch got into deep, intellectual conversations about things Gabby could never follow. The witch loved subtly ridiculing Gabby's lack of understanding and knowledge of things like law and torts. Gabby would work harder in school with little to no improvements.
At least it would get Prince tutoring her. But because she paid more attention to him than she did her books, she didn't advance academically. He never looked at her like she was stupid. He told her how smart she was, how talented she was. But he also chided her for not applying herself as much to her academics as she did to her music.
Why should she when her grades made him wince, but her playing made him smile? Her playing always got his attention. He'd close his eyes and get lost in the music she created.
On the stage, Gabby picked up her bow and began to play. The room fell silent. All eyes went to her and the haunting sounds she created. Prince's eyes went to her, too. The She Devil's eyes narrowed in annoyance.
Gabby played on, telling Prince her feelings with her finger movements. Their gazes locked. His lips parted. His eyes softened. She felt the connection. What they had was on a soul-deep level, which was better than a boring intellectual level.
As she pulled at the last note of the piece, applause boomed in the room breaking the spell. Gabby stood and took her bow. She turned to Prince. He gave her a wink as he slammed his hands together repeatedly. Beside him, the She Devil rolled her eyes. In response, Gabby blew Prince a kiss.
A man came up on the stage, joining her. He had pale skin and white blonde hair. To say he looked like a ghost was being kind. He looked like a ghoul. His smile looked carnivorous. He got closer and, having been raised Catholic, she saw the collar at his neck marking him as clergy.
She set her cello aside preparing to shake the man's hand, but he halted as he neared her. His eyes narrowed. His back was to the crowd, so they didn't see the look of disgust that crossed his features as he stared at her face. Had she messed up her hair? Was something on her dress?
It was customary for an MC to ask for a second round of applause for the entertainment. The ghoulish priest cast a dismissive eyebrow at her.
Gabby lifted her cello and headed off the stage. Prince was there. He stood at the edge of the raised platform. He reached his hands out to her like he did when she was a little girl racing towards him. He took her instrument, then he took her hand gently. His gaze was hard. It was focused on the priest, but the man's attention was turned to the crowd who appeared to miss the whole exchange.
"Who is that man?" Gabby asked.
"Levi Voigt," Prince answered. "The Governor's Chief of Staff and the father of the man who hit Crow."
"Tonight we celebrate our victory," said the priest. "There is a long road ahead of us, but we are going to take our state back from the illegals who sneak across our borders."
Mr. Voigt found Gabby's face in the crowd and he sneered. Was that comment meant for her? Gabby had led a sheltered life, but prejudice always poked its ugly head around corners; yelling something from afar but never coming at her directly. It had never looked her square in the eye and said anything right to her face.
Voigt turned back to the rapt crowd and continued. "We are going to protect our children from the sexually depraved homosexuals who walk our streets and have access to our classrooms. We will bring back Christian family values that have escaped the households of single mothers and same sex couples that adopt our impressionable children. We will end the war on Jesus and show that there is only one true God. And this is the man who will lead the way."
The crowd applauded as boisterously as they had for Gabby. Gabby shrunk into Prince's side. She hadn't been paying much attention to the news or the election. She'd voted for the opposition party; the female candidate. She'd seen the Governor many times on television and in the entertainment section of the papers. He was a philanderer and a playboy. His exploits were amusing as he lifted the skirts of obvious gold diggers. He got two women pregnant; divorced three and was now on number four who was a third his age.
The Catholic church didn't believe in divorce or abortion, but this man would be their lamb? There were rumors he'd gotten not one, not two, but three young women pregnant out of wedlock over his lifetime. There were accusations of forced abortions and tampered DNA tests.
The new governor, Ronald Drummon, came onto the stage. He was a funny-looking man. His skin was too tight from one too many procedures. His hair was too full for someone of his age. His belly hung over his belt. His hands were small and feminine. His lips pursed like he'd sucked on a prune and smelled a skunk.
Governor Drummon looked to Gabby like a grumpy grandpa who missed his nap. But then he spoke, and fire and energy came out of his mouth. Too bad his words were vile.
"We are going to take back our state," he boomed. "The refugee program will end Monday morning. We will deport illegals who come across our borders for a haven. I have instructed my staff to take a closer look at all the work permits and green cards on record."
The crowd applauded. Gabby noted that the people gathered were a homogenous bunch with very few diverse faces in the mix.
"This must be done if we want our state back," said the Governor. "The illegal men that cross into our boundaries are after our women. The illegal women entice our men, get themselves pregnant, and then take advantage of our freedoms on our dime. But they're the ones who spread their legs willingly and—"
A trickle of applause went up from the side of the stage, cutting Governor Drummon off from his tirade. Gabby couldn't imagine anyone cheering for the lewd, profane speech. But it was the priest clapping. His eyes arrowed on other men around the stage as though trying to encourage their applause. He was trying to stop the governor who Gabby assumed must have veered off the track of his prepared remarks.
The new governor hushed under the increased applause and preened under the admiration. The priest corralled the man off the stage and into the crowd to shake hands. Gabby saw Kemi in the trail of the staff. She didn't understand how any woman, especially a woman of color, could support any of the words said on that stage.
Prince led Gabby to the hall with her cello. They stepped outside into the cool air. Prince corralled her to his car, and he put the instrument into the trunk.
"There was a lot of hate in that speech," she said. "Does that prove your case? Can you arrest him?"
"No," said Prince. "It's not the governor I'm trying to arrest. It's someone who associates with him. That man isn't here tonight."
"But his father said a lot of nasty things. He was probably raised to think that way."
"What they said was hateful," agreed Prince. "But none of it was illegal. The worst part is that the governor is about to use the legal system to make many of those hateful things into rights. LGBT adoption is regulated and licensed at the state level. He can restrict abortion laws, making it harder by banning it after, say, eight weeks of pregnancy."
"A woman might not even know she's pregnant at that time."
Prince nodded. "Stop and frisk is not unconstitutional. At least not until you use it to profile certain races."
Gabby had never been much of an activist, but she was fired up and ready to do something. "We're going to stop him."
She took off back into the mansion. Prince was at her heels.
"What you doing?" he said.
"Looking for evidence," she said.
"We don't have a warrant."
"I'm not an officer of the law," she said. "I don't need one."
"It's still breaking and entering."
"I was invited."
"This isn't like you snooping in your brother's room when you were younger."
"I was rarely caught then and never prosecuted," she said as she headed to a back room. "The only reason you know that is because I told you."
They entered a room off the back hall. It looked like an office. A large desk sat in the center, but no papers were out on the desk. A wide-screen television hung from the wall surrounded by shelves of books.
"What exactly do you think you're looking for?" Prince asked.
"Nazi insignia, child porn, a white hood. Too bad your girlfriend can't tell us where to look."
"She's not my girlfriend," he said.
"Good, because she's all wrong for you."
"She doesn't play games."
Gabby tossed him a look over her shoulder. "That's her problem. You like a challenge, someone who keeps you on your toes. Someone to keep that brain of yours thinking in new directions instead of rehashing the old debates. Someone who doesn't fit neatly into one of the boxes."
He came to lean beside the book shelf where she was pulling out titles. "Someone like you?"
"No," she said turning to face him. "Just me."
He gazed down at her. She could see his nostrils flaring. He was so close to kissing her. All he needed to do was lean down. She would meet him more than halfway. Instead, he inhaled. Then he frowned.
"Do you smell that?" he asked.
"Smell what?"
Prince turned his head away from her. "Someone's smoking marijuana."
"Isn't that legal now?"
She trailed behind him. They went over to a glass door that led to a balcony. Outside was a wraparound patio. Prince opened the door and peered outside. He motioned for her to stay back. Of course, she didn't listen.
He hugged the wall and inched around. Without even looking to see if she'd heeded his command to stay back, Prince put out a stiff arm to halt her progress. But Gabby was able to peer over her shoulder.
There were two people lounging in chairs, puffing up smoke. One was dark haired and pale. The other was deeply tanned and had deep red hair.
Prince dropped his arm and cursed under his breath. The two men's heads snapped over to where they stood. Gabby took a step around Prince, preparing to launch herself at the redhead, but Prince held her back.
"Hey, Princess Leia," said the red headed man.
"Hey, Chief," said Gabby.