The Surrender: Falling In Part 12

The dinner was nice, but the extravagance of it all was baffling. From the clothes to the cost of the tickets, to the amount of news coverage, it was all obscene. Mrs. Whitfield-Baldwin was right. How about supporting a real cause, like stamping out hunger or solving the job crisis or finding a cure for AIDS?

As they drove home, they again were quiet. Lucian's introspective mood seemed to turn brooding. Scout was already nervous about the remainder of the night, so she figured she'd better try to lighten the mood.

"Lucian?"

He turned to her.

"I shouldn't have spoken to you the way I did this morning." She wouldn't apologize, but she would let him know her behavior hadn't ranked as one of her proudest moments. She was usually much more in control of her emotions than that.

He scowled then sighed. "It's over. Let it go."

"But you're still mad."

"Who says I'm mad?"

"Well, you haven't really spoken to me tonight. I figured . . ."

"Where did you go, Evelyn? It occurred to me this afternoon that I really don't know much about you other than what I read in your paperwork."

She fidgeted with her dress. "I had to go see someone."

"Who?"

"A friend."

"A male friend?"

She frowned. "What difference does that make?"

"I find it makes quite a bit of difference. Until our time together expires I expect you to treat our situation monogamously."

"I will."

He was quiet for a moment and they both looked out opposite windows. "Who is he?"

"Who?"

"The gentleman you were with this morning?"

"How do you know I was with a gentleman?" He gave her a dubious look and understanding dawned. "Oh my G.o.d, you had me followed!"

"Don't act so surprised. Do you mind telling me what you were doing all the way in lower Folsom? My man tells me you were in one of the poorest sections of the city."

"Your man?"

She was still reeling at the idea of being followed. She thought about last night and Lucian's descriptions of the p.a.w.ns in the game of chess. He was the king and she was his a.s.set and his p.a.w.ns would do everything in their power to protect the queen.

"I cannot believe you had me followed! Where I went and who I was with is none of your business."

She turned away and he gripped her arm tightly, almost painfully.

"Be very careful, Evelyn. We have an agreement. Until you or I end our arrangement, you are, for all intents and purposes, in my care. I wouldn't drive my favorite car in that section of Folsom. Don't expect me to let something much more valuable go there."

"Something? Do you hear yourself? I-am-a-person! Not a thing!"

He narrowed his eyes. "I'm aware that you're a living, breathing, flesh and blood woman, Evelyn. It hasn't slipped my attention since the moment I found you rummaging through my desk."

She scoffed. "I was not rummaging."

"Regardless, I don't want you visiting that part of town again."

Scout turned and scowled out the window, seething. That part of Folsom was her home. Big, stupid, rich moron!

After several minutes Lucian said, "I spoke to Vivian."

It took her a moment to realize he was referring to Dr. Sheffield. When she did, she stilled. He could not expect s.e.x after they just had an argument.

"She seemed very adamant that we proceed slowly. Care to tell me why?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Scout said with feigned indifference.

"Don't play games with me, Evelyn. I want to know why Vivian's so concerned with my intentions toward you."

"Maybe she's just being nice. People do like me, Lucian. Maybe she liked me and is just trying to be a friend."

"She is a friend. My friend. Now tell me what she meant."

Her shoulders sagged and she faced him. "She meant nothing. I'm clean as a whistle so we can go on with our arrangement as planned. Whatever the reason behind her warning, I a.s.sure you, it isn't necessary. I'm a big girl and I know perfectly well what I'm getting myself into."

He contemplated her for a moment. When they arrived at the hotel he said, "No, I believe I'll wait. Dugan, please see that Ms. Keats makes it to her room safely. I'll stay here until you return."

Scout turned, shocked. "You aren't coming up with me?"

"Not tonight, Evelyn. I think I'll go out for a bit."

She wanted to throw something at him. Her nerves had been a wreck all night, and where the h.e.l.l did he think he was going? Her eyes suddenly glazed with tears of frustration. She lifted her chin and turned on her heel, marching right up and over the d.a.m.n red runner with gold ta.s.sels.

Once she made it back to her room, she shut the door on Dugan and threw her shoe at the wall. What was happening to her? Her trembling fingers wiped her eyes and she was appalled to find she was crying.

How silly. Almost as silly as a five-thousand-dollar dinner at an overvalued flea market showing off a hodgepodge of c.r.a.p!

Scout stripped out of her dress and went to the bathroom to wash off her makeup, hating Evelyn, wanting Scout back. Sniffling, she plucked the pins from her hair and tossed them all over the vanity, some pinging to the tile floor.

She looked like the bride of Frankenstein with her hair still sprayed into place and mascara marks beneath her eyes.

"You are a jerk, Lucian Patras," she said, narrowing her eyes at the mirror. Something about being in that man's presence unhinged her, leaving her raw and vulnerable. Such self-doubt was unfamiliar and unwelcome.

Her gaze moved to her underwear and the fancy lace bra she wore. None of this was her. He may have thought she was being stubborn, but she was actually trying very hard to be what he expected. Scout stripped out of her underwear and dug through the bags of clothing. Nothing was right.

From the closet she pulled on the big terrycloth robe, then grabbed her old bag and curled up on the bed, tucking her feet beneath her. Digging deep in the inside pocket, she found the picture she was looking for. She stared at it and wiped her eyes as the tears continued to fall. She was overwhelmed by so many unfamiliar things, angry at her inability to keep up with this sort of life, and, most of all, frustrated that he'd some how managed to affect her in such a way.

The sketch was of her and Pearl, twelve years ago. They were sitting on a bench together, a bag of all their possessions to their left. It had been raining and her mom insisted she wear that ridiculous rubber hat. Scout hated that hat.

A watery chuckle rose in her chest. She could hear her mother's voice telling her it was the hat of a famous sea captain and he'd be sad if she didn't wear it with pride. She was so full of c.r.a.p. That was when her mom still acted like a mom, before Scout started calling her Pearl.

Even when she went to the tracks and talked with Pearl, she still left missing her mom. Scout hated what drugs had done to her. She'd never come back to her and every day she loved her it hurt a little more.

Scout hugged the drawing to her chest and carefully folded it back up. It was tearing where the creases were. She should find tape and fix it before it fell apart. After tucking the picture back in her bag, she lay down. The heavy covers warmed her body, but she shivered anyway.

Faces swirled behind her closed eyes. Parker and Pearl and Deborah and the scary man from the shelter. She thought about the crying baby she'd heard the other night.

Her mind randomly recalled a conversation she'd had with a nursing mother several years ago. The mother had told Scout that her body had become so malnourished that she could no longer produce milk. Scout hated when that woman was at the shelter. Her infant would scream all night long. Every cry cut through her like a hot blade, and she'd never been so furious or felt so helpless. Scout wanted to help that starving baby and she couldn't. She hated when that woman was at the shelter, but Scout hated when she left more because she never knew what happened to her or that baby.

That was her life, people coming and going and no one sticking around long enough to ever depend on. She had been the one afraid to depend on Parker, afraid to call him friend. But now she was the one abandoning him. Would he hate her for leaving him? If he left her she'd never forgive him. It was a complicated thing, her way of thinking. She hated letting people in, but once she did and she began to care for them she never wanted to let them go.

Chapter 13.

Rooks and Voyeurs A sharp, shrill alarm sounded and Scout jerked upright. Instinctively, she reached for her bag as the alarm sounded again.

Fire?

Her eyes landed on her unfamiliar surroundings and she remembered she was in the hotel, and the annoying sound that had woken her was coming from the phone. She leaned over and answered it.

"h.e.l.lo?"

"Get dressed. Something casual, but nice. Meet me out front in thirty minutes."

Scout wiped her eyes and scowled. She was still angry from last night. "Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise. Thirty minutes." Lucian said and hung up in her ear.

She replaced the phone and glared at it. After a few minutes of refusing to move, eventually she gave in and went to take a shower.

She dressed in a pair of fitted jeans and knee-high boots. The boots, although heeled, offered more support than the pumps. Finding a soft corded sweater the color of rust, she slipped that over a lace brown camisole.

Katelyn had given her a dainty bag full of makeup the day before, and Scout sorted through the little tubes and compacts for some magic quick fix that wasn't there. Locating the mascara, she pulled out the black wand. Her eyes flickered rapidly as she tried to swab her lashes with the goopy stuff. When she finished, she wasn't pleased. Her eyes looked startling. Witch eyes. She tossed it back in the bag and found some powder.

There were ten different brushes. Selecting a fluffy large one to use with the powder, she dabbed the compact. Blending was a talent that took skill she lacked. Growing frustrated, she grabbed the clear gloss, slathered it over her lips, and left.

Her hair was still damp, so she twisted it into a bun as she waited for the elevator. Scout wasn't sure how she'd treat Lucian today. Part of her wanted to hurt him the way he had hurt her, but another part of her missed the way they'd been that first night. And then there was the part of her that constantly reminded her she shouldn't care that much.

There was no paying him back for the things he had given her, and her stubbornness refused to allow her to bow out at this point. If she let people like Lucian intimidate her, she'd never make it in the real world.

Squaring her shoulders, she stepped off the elevator. The lobby was politely hushed as people checked in and out. She could smell the restaurant and wondered if they'd ever dine there.

As soon as she stepped outside she recognized Dugan. She pulled the lapels of her camel coat tight against the wind and took the red runner toward the limo.

"Ms. Keats," he greeted and opened the door for her.

"Good morning, Dugan." She slid into the warmth of the car. Lucian was waiting for her. Folding the newspaper he was reading, he inspected her from head to toe.

"Your hair's wet."

"And my eyes are blue. Where are we going?"

He didn't appreciate her comment. "It's November, Evelyn. Do you enjoy pneumonia?"

"Not particularly, but you didn't leave me much choice with your demands for promptness."

He looked back at his paper. "I can see this morning will be full of your charming wit."

The limo pulled away from the curb, and they rode in silence. The sound of newspaper pages turning interrupted the stillness of the ride every few minutes. The city rolled by quietly, buffeted by the sleek gla.s.s of the car, and appearing somewhat artificial.

"Care to read a section of the paper?" Lucian asked.

"No, thank you."

"We need to stop by my office before we get to where we're going."

Scout nodded her understanding.

"I plan on introducing you to some colleagues this morning, Evelyn."

"You're working?"

"I'm always working."

They arrived at a tall building in a section of the city she wasn't familiar with. The door of the limo opened and Lucian climbed out. She scooted over toward the door to follow when he turned and said, "I shouldn't be more than ten minutes." The door shut in her face.

Scout spent the time snooping around the limo and testing each b.u.t.ton. She found an apple in a small refrigerated compartment and ate it. She wasn't sure what to do with the core, so she wrapped it in a napkin and held it in her lap.

When she found the radio, her fingers rolled the dial until locating a station that wasn't fuzzy. Accidentally pressing the wrong b.u.t.ton, the music cut off and a grinding sound came on.

"c.r.a.p." She panicked, but a second later music came on again. There must be a CD in the player somewhere.

Soft, jazzy-sounding vocals filled the limo. Sitting back, she listened, realizing the words were being sung in a different language, but it was still nice. Her booted feet tapped as she waited for Lucian.

Finally the door opened and she spotted Lucian exiting the building with a stack of papers in his hands. His strides were confident and people seemed to defer to him. He climbed into the limo and smiled.

"Now we can go."

As Dugan drove she noticed the buildings grow farther and farther apart and the sidewalks become less populated with people. The denseness of Folsom eased and suddenly there were houses and gra.s.s and then they were speeding along a raised section of highway.