Chapter 18
Maddox
I drive through the night to get back to San Francisco in time to see Avery before this surprise fundraiser, but even that plan gets thwarted by Evelyn Thomas. When I knock on Avery’s apartment door at ten in the morning, no one answers. I figure she’s still asleep, so I go downstairs to ask the doorman to let me in. He tells me Avery left with her mother an hour ago.
“I think they were going shopping,” he says.
I call Avery’s phone on the outside chance she’s gotten it back from the cops, and am astonished when her father answers.
“Maddox,” he says, his tone icy.
“You got Avery’s phone back,” I say. “Were the police able to trace the source of the photos and text the guy sent?”
“Don’t concern yourself with it, son,” he quips. “What can I do for you?”
He didn’t give the phone to the police. They probably didn’t even report it at all. What the hell?
“I’m looking for Avery, sir,” I say. “I’m trying to catch up with her before the event tonight.”
“She’s going to be out all day,” her father says. “She’s with her mother and they have plenty of security. Take the rest of the day and relax. Have Avery at the fundraiser by eight sharp and you’ll be doing your job. Just do your job, son.”
“Sir...” I start to say, but the line goes dead. That cowardly son of a bitch hung up on me.
I need to get Avery’s phone.
* * *
I arrive at her apartment at seven, and I’m not at all surprised that she’s not alone. Dan Diamond, a knuckle-head tough on the Senator’s personal detail, is there. He lets me in, looks at his watch, and smirks.
“That little twat is taking her time. She just got in the shower two minutes ago. She’s gonna be late again and—”
“Watch your mouth.” I warn. “She’s Miss Thomas to you.”
He frowns. “She’s a piece of work with a foul mouth and a bad attitude.”
Not much gets past Diamond’s keen powers of observation.
“You’re relieved. I got it from here,” I tell him.
He shakes his head. “I’m supposed to drive with you.” He grins, almost leering. “We’re double teaming her tonight.”
I seriously consider breaking Diamond’s face in response to that remark, but that would interfere with my goal of getting Avery to this fundraiser on time, then back to this apartment – safely and alone – so we can talk.
“You’re a real clever dude, Diamond,” I say. “You keep that shit up, and you’ll be grinning through a jaw wired shut.”
“Touchy, touchy,” he replies, still grinning. “A couple of the guys said they thought you tapped that shit. I couldn’t believe it, but now I do.” He tilts his head to the side knowingly. “Better make an appointment at the clinic soon, son. She might not be like that now, but she dates a few of these other sons of bitches back in the day. She might just be contagious—”
My thumb and fingers clutching his windpipe shut him up. One more pound of pressure and Dan Diamond is history. I slowly walk him backwards while I hang on, explaining to him how it’s going to be.
“You’re not going to say another word,” I tell him as he gasps for air, clutching impotently at my hand. “You’re going to keep your eyes down, off Miss Thomas, and off me. You’re going to speak only when you’re spoken to and limit your responses to yes sir and no sir. And once we get to the hotel, you’re going to vanish.” I tighten my thumb just a little for emphasis. “Am I understood?”
He struggles to nod ‘yes’ without cracking his windpipe against my grip.
“Good boy.” I release him with a shove and a threatening glare. I’ m pleased to see that he’s got at least enough sense of self preservation to tuck tail, drop his eyes, and go sit down in the living room – instead of making me really hurt him.
Twenty minutes later, Avery’s bedroom door opens and she appears, dressed and ready to go. I take one look at her, and my heart drops to the floor. Her hair – that gorgeous mane of curling, unruly, scarlet red locks – has been cut and tamed. It’s straightened and styled in a neat bob that just touches the top of her shoulder line. There’s nothing wrong with the style – on someone else – but it’s not Avery.
And that’s not all. She wearing a pant suit. It’s dark patterned gaberdine, conservative, shoulder pads on the jacket, revealing nothing except shining pearl buttons on a stiff blouse, buttoned up to her throat.
For God’s sake, she looks just like a younger, ginger clone of Evelyn Thomas, right down to the low-heeled, closed-toe, patent leather pumps on her feet.
She see’s my expression – I can’t hide it – and she looks away. I’m not sure, but I think I see a fleeting expression of shame color her face before she turns back smiling.
“I’m ready,” she says.
Her words are devoid of emotion. My heart plummets.
* * *
The drive to the Scarlet Huntington Hotel on Nob Hill is accomplished in absolute silence thanks to the unfortunate fact of Dan Diamond’s company with us. I glance in the rear-view a couple of times, but catch Avery’s eye only once. She gives me a weak, resigned smile, then looks away, her eyes focusing on nothing in particular outside the rear passenger window of the Range Rover.
The event is small – it was scheduled on short notice – but the venue is also intimate, which makes it feel more crowded than the last one. Diamond makes himself scarce as soon as we’re boots on the ground, leaving me to escort Avery through a small contingent of press hanging out in the lobby, looking for low-hanging fruit to pick-on. The fundraiser is a private affair – no press allowed – but that never stops them from hovering, looking for opportunities.
“Nice new hairdo, Avery.” A reporter barks, stepping up, camera in hand. “So you’re really joining the campaign? Is that what the new look signifies?”
Avery smiles politely but says nothing. I motion for him to step back and he does. He’s one of the professionals with cable news network television credentials. Later on, the “money shot” guys will start showing up. With them the questions and demands for photos become a lot less appropriate.
Once inside, Avery flips her “on” switch. She begins to move through the room from guest to guest, making small-talk as well as discussing big policy issues with poise and intelligence. She knows exactly who to win over with her attention, her beaming expressions of fascination, hanging on their every word. She knows who to shake hands with, who to hug cheek-to-cheek, and who to take in hand and introduce to her mother.
I slip to the sidelines, watching the room and everyone near Avery. I’m consciously surveying for a familiar face; someone who is paying too much attention to Avery. I don’t see anyone who fits the profile I’ve got in my head. All I see are over-dressed, over-stuffed opportunists, sucking up to Evelyn Thomas while sucking the life out of Avery.
I manage to avoid having to speak with either Evelyn or her husband all night long, but from my position, guarding the wall-paper, I get a pretty good opportunity to observe them both. Evelyn is like Avery in many respects. She works the room and its well-heeled occupants like a professional pickpocket. She winds it out of them in conversation, smiling and laughing at their bad jokes, then finding just the right opportunity, she dips in and secures their support. The people in this room already paid $5000 a head just for the privilege of breathing the same air as Evelyn Thomas, but she uses everything she has in her bag of con-game tricks to convince them it’s their idea to commit to more.
The even more interesting party to watch, however, is General Thomas. He doesn’t concern himself with the country-club donors and small-issue locals. He hangs back by the bar, a drink in his hand, and he lets the big fish swim up to him. By the end of the night he’s got a pocket full of business cards from lawyers and lobbyists, all willing to pay millions for easy access to the senator and her staff.
If Evelyn Thomas is re-elected, those same lobbyists will be the ones writing legislation that she presents before the Senate as her own. Call me cynical, but I just know in my gut that those guys in three thousand dollar suits hanging out with General Thomas don’t work for The Nature Conservancy.
By eleven, at least half the guests have cleared out, and Avery looks flat-out exhausted. She’s a dutiful soldier, however, and she doubles back for a clean-up round with the stragglers. General Thomas has effectively clocked out. He sheds his jacket, rolls his sleeves up, and occupies himself in a low-voiced conversation with a guy who looks like he’s dressed for a night out at the pub rather than this black-tie fête. Neither of them look entirely happy.
I’ve seen the guy before, but I can’t place where.
General Thomas shakes his head at the guy, and I can read his lips when he says, “Absolutely not. It’s over. Done.”
The guy rolls his eyes and nods. “Okay. But I still get...”
Someone walks past him and I miss the last bit. Something about the guy and the way Thomas is talking with him feels hinky to me. Instinctively, I lift my camera from my hip pocket, snap a couple generic photos of the room and the crowd, then focus a tight shot on the guy’s face before snapping a few more randomly. All very nonchalant — I’m a trained professional, after all. Luckily, no one notices my sudden, out-of-character interest in the evening’s proceedings.
I could say I trust General Thomas because he’s a Marine. But that would be a damn lie. He’s become Evelyn’s right-hand man since retiring, and there’s no lengths he wouldn’t go to get his way.
I know that all too well.
A few moment’s later I see Avery turn slightly away from a walrus-toothed, tuxedo-clad man who’s gripping her hand like he might propose. She scans the room. I step away from the wallpaper and catch her eye in seconds. She nods to me, her quick glance requests my assistance in extracting her from her current companion. I’m happy to accommodate.
I step up behind Avery and touch her elbow, saying. “Miss Thomas, whenever you’re ready I can have the car brought up. You said we needed to leave by 11:45.”
She gives me a polite, slightly dismissive smile for the benefit of the man who won’t let go of her hand, and says, “Yes. Do that Maddox.” Then she returns to her admirer, all warm and glowing deference. “I’m so sorry, I have a midnight call – Tokyo – the time difference is brutal.”
I leave Avery to make her excuses while I drop the parking ticket at the valet desk. As I’m heading back into the ballroom, the casually dressed guy who was talking with General Thomas passes me, glancing up, then he quickly drops his eyes. He is familiar, and ducking his eyes like that confirms that he knows me too. I wish I’d had the presence of mind to take a crowd shot at the last fundraiser, just to see if I can place him near Avery that night.
Maybe there’s security footage? I make a mental note to call the Fairmont tomorrow.
Once inside I spot Avery with her mother. I keep a respectful distance, but I make sure Avery sees that I’ve returned. A few moments later, after brushing past a determined gauntlet of paparazzi camped outside the hotel’s main entrance, we’re tucked inside the Rover, windows down, taking in the unseasonably warm evening air, speeding away from the hotel on mostly deserted streets.
“Thank you for that rescue,” Avery says, her voice slightly horse, thin with fatigue.
“My pleasure.” I reply. “You okay?”
She nods, then sighs, gazing out the window. She seems sad.
“Can we talk?” I ask her.
She sighs again, her padded shoulders slumping. “Maddox, I’m so tired. Can we just let it be for right now?”
I have waited all day for this ten minute window to be alone with her. I haven’t slept. I’m walking on eggshells whenever I’m around her, and she wants to ‘just let it be.’ No fucking way. I pull the SUV over, coasting into a street side parking space in front of a clothing shop.
“Okay,” I say, focusing intently on my hands in my lap so I can’t see her expression. “I’ll talk. You listen.”
“Maddox, please...”
“Just shut up and listen and then I’ll take you home,” I say firmly. “I don’t want to take your parents’ money, but I also don’t want to quit this job while you’re stuck in this Stepford Daughter role. You’ve decided to play along with your folks and do your ‘duty’. I can do the same thing. I can stay, and maybe even help to keep some space between you and your mother. Help them have more reasonable expectations. I’ll never believe for a second that you want to put yourself out there like a piece of meat to lure those people onto your mother’s hook, any more than you’ll convince me your new ‘look’ was your idea. It isn’t who you are. I don’t think it’ll last.
“And I’ll never be the obedient little errand boy they seem to think they can convince me to become, if they just throw enough money at me. Your parents can’t tell me who to sleep with, or who to…”
“Maddox...”
“No, I’m not done...”
“Maddox!”
I look up. There’s a car in front of us and three guys with camera’s fanning out around the Rover, snapping photographs as they move.
Fucking hell. Stalkerazzi scum. I hit the buttons on the door to raise the windows, then I step out of the vehicle, feeling a crushing burst of adrenaline pumping through my system, sharpening my focus, making my fists clench.
“Maddox, please keep your cool! Don’t get yourself arrested! They’re not worth it!”
I slam the Rover’s door closed and run down the nearest guy, wrenching the camera out of his hand. I want to smash it over his skull, but I hear Avery’s words in my head. Instead I find the slot for the memory card. I pop it out and snap it into pieces between my thumb and forefinger, then shove the camera back at its owner with a warning.
“You should fuck the hell off. The lady’s off the clock.”
The guy looks at the destroyed card lying shredded at my feet, then at me. “I had some thousand dollar shots on that. God damn...”
“Yeah, well, you can’t spend it six feet under. Next time I won’t worry about fucking up the memory card. It’ll be your fucking face.”
He turns and starts to walk away, then he turns back. “Fuck you Bryant. You and your uptown, snotty girlfriend. Everybody knows you’re doing her. We’re just trying to get pictures to prove it. It’s only a matter of time.”
“It’s only a matter of time before I break your fucking neck.” I growl. I step toward him, which sends him and his buddies scurrying back to their car like startled rabbits. They speed off, taking photos of me as they depart.
I go back to the Range Rover and climb in. Avery is sitting up, wide-eyed. She’s looking at me like I just slayed a dragon.
“That was really brave,” she says.
I shake my head. “No. That wasn’t brave. That was just me making empty threats at a piss-ant little shit who needs to find a better way to earn a living.”
I put the Rover into gear and pull off. “We’ll finish our conversation at your place.”
Once in her apartment, I take off my tie – which is strangling me – and shed my coat. I shrug off my shoulder rig and hang it on the back of a kitchen chair while Avery disappears into her bedroom to get out of that ridiculous outfit.
When she emerges, she’s a lot closer to her old self, wearing worn jeans with holes at the knees and a City Lights t-shirt that looks older than she is. She fetches two beers from the fridge, opens them, hands me one, and then plops herself down on the couch, tucking her feet under her hips.
“You want to talk,” she says. “So talk.”
I take a seat across from her. I try to find the words. It’s more difficult than it should be, and I still don’t understand her decision.
“Can you explain why you decided to fall in line with your mother’s demands now? After all this time of trying so hard to be a thorn in her side? Why you’ve just folded?”
She gives me a sad smile. “Because you mean a lot to me. We’ve been friends forever. And I know you had to leave the service to help with your mother. You need to start over – again. I don’t want to screw that up for you.”
“Avery, you’re not screwing anything up. I can get by...”
“Yeah. I know.” She teases, interrupting. “You can ‘get by’. Your idea of living life is pretty meager. You always have been a bit low on the expectations side, but my parents can pretty much destroy any prospects you might have. I’m the reason you were forced into the service in the first place. I know you didn’t want to go. I’m not going to be the reason your entire life gets ruined.”
Her logic is so flawed that it’s difficult sometimes to rationalize it against all the expensive education she’s had.
“The Marines was the best thing that ever happened to me.” I tell her. “Except coming back here – to you.”
“Maddox, please...”
“No. I’m not giving you up.”
“We have to stop. You need the job.”
“I’ll agree to stop when you tell me you want me to stop – for you. Not for me, or your parents, or anyone else. That’s the one thing I haven’t heard from you.”
I stand up and move toward her, swiftly slipping over her on the couch, pushing her down. I kiss her lips – gently at first – waiting for her response. She tries not to kiss me back and I feel her hand pressing against my chest, but in just a second her fingers thread behind my neck and her lips rise into mine. Her body heaves up to meet me.
I want her so badly. I want her to be mine and mine alone. I want all those guys who talk trash about her to see her on my arm and know that I’m the one, the only one, that she comes for. I want her parents to see her blissfully happy, and to realize they can no longer control her. I want to see her laugh at insipid ideas about money, or status, or people’s opinions. I want my opinion to be the only one that concerns her.
I lift her t-shirt and bury my face in her slightly sun-burned breasts, kissing them, stretching her nipples between my fingers.
“I’ll take your parent’s money,” I say, lapping and sucking the swollen, tender flesh. “And I’ll play the part. But here – you and I – we do what we want. It’s nobody’s business but ours.”
* * *
Two hours later, laying in the dark with Avery cradled in my arms, she looks up into my eyes.
“I don’t understand how we’re gonna pull this off. I suck at keeping secrets.”
I nod. “Me too, but we will, as long as we have to. Eventually the election will be over, and then – if you want – we’ll come clean. ‘Til then, we’ll stay on the down-low, just to keep everyone happy.”
Everyone but us.