“Never lay a hand on the Secretary’s daughter unless you would like your hand permanently removed. Do you comprehend?” I claw at his grip, unable to respond.
“Hap! I have it under control! Put him down!”
Hap drops me and I land on my feet coughing. I put my hands up indicating I’m backing off. “No problem, pal—she’s all yours.”
I turn to her friend, trying to rescue the situation. “Dance?”
Vina’s shoulders rise in a happy gush. “I’d love to.”
I shoot a disgusted glance at Raine as we leave and I’m happy to see what I think is irritation on her face. At least it’s something.
When Vina and I reach the dance floor, I look at the upper level and see that Raine’s watching us. Vina grabs my shoulders, her arms board stiff, and begins making the spastic dancing movements I had seen earlier. I’m in trouble. I don’t know how to do these moves. With all the things Gatsbro taught us in our year at the Estate, modern dance was not part of our studies. I reach out and put my hands on Vina’s waist and sway to the music instead, periodically glancing up to see if Raine is still watching. She is. Just beyond her I see the gold muscle-head in the corner probably still ready to dismember me, but then something much more interesting catches my eye.
Sitting in the shadows at a table is the Secretary. He’s chatting with LeGru, who must have entered another way. The Secretary finishes his drink with a quick backward movement and rises, whispering something to Hap. He’s not an easy read, cautious with his lip movements, but I make out, Leaving for the night. He disappears through a door on the second level, followed by LeGru. I see other adults on the upper level so he wasn’t the only parent here, but I suspect he’s the most intimidating. As soon as he leaves the volume in the room rises and I notice more people coming out on the dance floor.
“Locke?”
I look back at Vina. “Sorry, what did you say?”
“Where’d you learn to dance this way?”
“Oh. This? I can’t remember. I guess it’s kind of old-fashioned.”
“No, not at all,” she says. “But it is strange. I like it! Show me!”
The music changes to a slower beat and I slide my hands around her back, pulling her a little closer. “Well, you just—”
“Excuse me. I need to speak with Mr. Jenkins. Do you mind, Vina?”
Raine cuts in. No one is more surprised than me. “I don’t think so,” I tell her. “I don’t want to lose a hand.”
“I’ve spoken to Hap.” She stands there waiting like I’m a huge jackass for even mentioning it.
I look at Vina and shrug. “We’ll dance more later?”
She nods and smiles but aims an annoyed roll of the eyes at Raine before she walks away.
I turn to Raine, leery of touching her first. “You sure?”
She grabs my shoulders, her arms stiff, keeping me at a distance. I don’t put my hands on her waist. “So, what kind of clothes are those?” she asks.
“Regular ones.”
“You don’t think much of social codes?”
“Ones that matter.”
“I see.” She bites her lower lip, all orchestrated affectation, like she’s really contemplating my words. “Does that include peeping at girls in the middle of the night?”
The charm is punched out of me. Busted. That’s why she was staring at me. She saw me last night. Going on the offensive is my only save. “You own the park?”
“Yes, for the most part.” Her fingers dig into my shoulders. “The truth’s a bitter pill,” she says. “Don’t look so put out.”
Put out? Hardly. I study her, trying to figure out what she wants. Her face is hard. Each plane a mask, hiding something beneath. She closes everyone out. I think my chances with Vina were better, but then, her father isn’t the Secretary who has the information we need.
I shrug. “I couldn’t sleep.”
“So your mother lets you walk the streets of Boston in the middle of the night?”
“And your father lets you straddle rooftops?”
She glances over her shoulder to where the Secretary had been sitting.
“He’s gone,” I say.
She looks back at me. Her eyes are large worried pools of deep brown, soft and beautiful, but her pupils are the tight hard circles from the photos. Something inside of me catches. Is she frightened of her own father?
“I won’t tell anyone,” I whisper. Her hands relax on my shoulders and I reach out and try to pull her closer like I did with Vina so we can really dance.
She vacillates between stepping forward and pulling back, both of us acutely aware of my hands on her waist, a moment that seems to stretch on forever, and then she jerks away from me. “Never come to my park again. Capiche?”
She stands there waiting for a response to her ridiculous order with her hands on her hips and her brows raised like I’m her dense gold-headed Bot.
Capiche?
Lesson two: Restraint. Restraint, Locke. Don’t blow it. Don’t let her push you. But something else inside of me speaks up. I’m not a Bot or her lackey. I’m not anyone’s lackey.
“I don’t speak Italian,” I finally answer, my tone thick with ice.
She hesitates for only a second before rage flashes across her face and she turns and walks away.
A Pig’s Eye
I walk down the steps to the PAT station. I’m not ready to go back to the apartment.
Her park? Capiche?
I’m livid. At myself. At her. I want to break something. Maybe my own bonehead. I didn’t let Carver push my buttons when he asked about my past. Why did I let her push them? Yes, something about her is dangerous. And incredibly annoying.
I hope Xavier doesn’t try to call me tonight but I know he will. Did you charm her? Are you in? What will I tell him? Is there any way I can salvage this? Vina took an interest in me, but Vina won’t open the doors I need. Even if she gets me into their small group, that isn’t going to get me close to the Secretary.
The PAT pod opens and I step in. “Ashmont,” I say.
“Not a valid destination.”
How can Ashmont not be a valid destination? But I don’t care where I go. Anywhere away from here is fine. “Jackson Square.”
“Not a valid destination.”