Canvas Skies (Reliance on Citizens Makes Us Great!) (16 page)

He was right. They needed more.

“You can trust me. You should trust
me...because I'm one of you. And the Resistance is real.”

I undid the clasp of my necklace and held
out the gold pendant. I described it for those who stood farther
away. “It's the symbol of the Resistance - a serpent striking at a
gold coin, and it's time for us to strike back. You've all felt the
restrictions of the Divide. Don't you think it's time to close it?”
I paused. How many of you know someone who's disappeared?”

People whispered to each other and
nodded.

“I know where they are. They need our
help.”

“Where are they?” Tony asked, loudly enough
for the people in the back of the room to hear.

“They're in the Justice Center, but we can't
just go in with guns blazing. We need to band together first. The
only way we can succeed is with an organized attack.”

“You're crazy,” said a man from right in
front of me. “They'd take us out in an instant.” He turned and
faced the crowd. “It's not just the Gov, and it's not just the
Elite. They have the military on their side.”

People started shouting and arguing.

“Stop!" I yelled and waited for the crowd to
settle. “You can't judge people like that. Over 70% of the military
are on our side, and we have insiders in the Gov too.”

Everyone looked at me again.

“We've been preparing for years. Now, we
need you.”

“How?” It was the same man who had riled the
crowd. “How were you able to do all that?”

“Guy Bensen.”

People stared. His name was legend to some,
unknown to others, but it had the desired effect.

“I believe her.” Micah, another Freelancer,
jumped up onto the other end of the bar and strode toward me. He
gripped my hand in a firm handshake. “I'll join your cause. Other
Freelancers I know have gone missing but not without leaving a
trail. They were hired by CalTech to break into the Justice Center
as a way to test security.”

I shook my head. “But CalTech is on our
side.”

Another voice called out from across the
room. “The Palamara report, was that for real?”

“All of Palamara's reports are for real, and
the one about Ramsey Corps was no exception. I know because I was
there.”

People pressed forward. I looked to Raquelle
for support.

She climbed up onto a table. “I was
too.”

People turned to look at her.

“Keira and I took down Ramsey Corps along
with a team led by Guy Bensen.”

“Ricky?” Someone chuckled. “Why should we
believe you? All you Freelancers. You've got each others'
backs.”

Jenna stood. “I'm with them too, and I'm no
Freelancer.” She smiled at me. Jenna's opinion carried a lot of
weight around here.

Cole was next. He threw his arm around my
shoulders. “How can we help?”

“For now, you can spread the word. Get
others on board, and be ready to move when the time is right.”

After Tony's, we visited five other
establishments: three bars and two garages. We opened up lines of
communication that had been dormant for far too long. The
revolution had begun.

As the week wore on, business picked up.
Maybe the people of Tkaron were simply more inclined to purchase
art nearer the weekend. Whatever the reason, it gave me a good
excuse to ask for Keira's help. I'd been hoping we'd have some time
to begin rebuilding our relationship, yet again. But by late
morning, I'd realized a heart-to-heart with my sister would be near
impossible with the number of people moving in and out of the
gallery.

Two more Resistance drops were delivered
right in front of everyone. I was beginning to see how it all
worked. Act like you aren't doing anything wrong, and no one takes
notice. Keira once told me, people see what they expect to see.
It's that simple.

By 1:00, the rush seemed to be over. Keira
stood at the counter and completed a sale. The last of Natalie
Kozlovsky's bead and wire sculptures had been purchased. I hurried
over to wrap it up.

After the customer left, I looked around the
empty room and said, “We should have lunch.”

“Sounds great!” Keira's brilliant green eyes
sparkled when she smiled at me, and I felt a warm glow in my
heart.

We retreated to the back room but left the
door open so we could listen for customers. Keira handed me a salad
from the cooler I'd packed that morning.

“I'm glad you're finally speaking to me
again,” Keira said.

“Me? You're the one who's been in a world of
her own. I'm glad you're finally ready to listen.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The audiovid.” I nodded at the small device
Guy had given her. “Even when we've had time, you've been listening
to that thing almost nonstop.”

She blushed. “I'm sorry. It's just...”

“From Guy, I know,” I interrupted.

“Well yes, but the songs he put on it were
some of Mom's favorites.”

“Oh, I see.”

“You're welcome to use it,” she said.

“Maybe later.” I didn't remember Mom's music
as well as Keira did.

She popped a cherry tomato into her mouth,
chewed briefly and swallowed. “Look, I'm really sorry about keeping
things from you. It's just a habit, you know?”

“One that needs to be broken.” I would have
to remain firm.

“Yes, I agree. On both sides,” Keira
said.

“What do you mean?”

“Aimee, you had a baby. A sweet little baby
girl who I've heard almost nothing about!”

I looked down. “I've been meaning to talk
with you about that, but I'd prefer to talk with you and Guy
together.”

“Why?”

“I'm not ready to have that conversation
without him here.”

“Well, can't you tell me anything about
Nadine, anything at all?”

“She has his eyes.” My voice was barely
above a whisper, and my fork clattered against my plate. “I'm
sorry.” I shook my head. “I can't. Thinking about her brings him
back. And then I see that knife sticking out of his back, a knife I
put there.”

I began to shake, and tears spilled from my
eyes. From across the table, chair legs scraped across the polished
wooden floor. Keira wrapped her arms around me.

“No, I'm sorry. I should have realized. I
won't ask again.”

The shaking slowly abated, and Keira
returned to her seat. I took a bite of my salad and studied the
vegetables on my plate, trying to clear my mind.

“Have you decided who you're going to ask to
the benefit?” she asked, changing the subject.

She was referring to the Redemption for
Orphans fund raising benefit, an event I wasn't especially looking
forward to. A few of the artists I'd met since moving back to
Tkaron had agreed to donate a painting apiece for the cause. I
wondered if they realized the goal of the RFO was to help Elite
orphans, not all orphans, and most of the money would simply be
shuffled among the Elite in attendance for their role in throwing
the event itself. That's how Keira had explained it anyway, and I
didn't doubt it was true.

“No, not yet.”

“You do realize it's tomorrow evening,
right? You simply can't go alone. Guy said...”

“I know what Guy said!”

The front door chimes jangled and
interrupted our conversation. Keira went to see who it was. She
turned to look at me with a mischievous grin. “Now's your chance. A
special delivery has arrived just for you. I'll send him in!” She
didn't wait for an answer.

I swiped at my eyes and stood. Hisoka
appeared in the doorway carrying two large canvases and a wooden
box. I nodded toward two easels I'd set up earlier. He placed a
canvas on each one, then turned to look at me. Were my cheeks still
wet with tears, my eyes still red from crying? I reached up to
check.

Hisoka politely turned away and said, “Let's
put you to work!”

“Just let me clear the table first.” In
under a minute, I'd packed what was left of our salads and moved
our drinks to the desk against the wall.

Hisoka set his box on the table. Then he
picked up a chair and placed it in front of the easels.

“Sit and close your eyes.”

I sat. I could hear Hisoka at the table.
What was he doing? I peeked and watched his supple painter's hands
spread out the supplies. He turned and caught me watching him. A
smile toyed at the corners of his mouth.

“Close your eyes,” he said, “and let your
imagination wander. When it settles on something, try to bring it
into focus. See all the details. See all the colors.”

I took a deep breath, closed my eyes again
and let my thoughts flow. After a few minutes, an image came into
view.

“Alright, I think I've got something.”

“Open your eyes.”

He handed me a pencil. I stood and began to
sketch. Hisoka did the same, working at the easel next to me. I
lost track of time and became fully in tune with my creation.

When my sketch was finished, I stood back in
awe. Had I really created something so beautiful? It was perfect.
The juxtaposition of the three crooked apple trees with people
emerging from within, against a very realistic backdrop gave the
drawing an otherworldly quality.

Hisoka moved behind me. “Wow! This can't be
your first.”

“It's not.” I said. “I took a techniques
class at the Art Institute, but this is the first time I'm not
recreating someone else's work.”

“It's amazing. You're a natural.” He smiled
and put a hand on my shoulder. “Who are the people in the trees?
What do they represent?”

“I don't know.” I lied. “I think the one in
the middle is me.”

They were us: me, Keira and Scott, but I
couldn't tell Hisoka about them without revealing a whole lot
more.

“What about him?” He pointed to a figure on
the right. A man lurked in the shadows, facing the trees.

“Oh, that's you.” I lied again. I couldn't
explain, not even to myself, why Brody had appeared in my
vision.

“Maybe that's something we can work on next
time,” Hisoka said. “I'd be happy to pose for you.”

“Um, okay.”

“Let's get some paint.”

Suddenly, I blurted out, “I've been invited
to the Redemption for Orphans benefit tomorrow night, but I don't
have a date.”

Hisoka took both my hands in his and looked
into my eyes. “Miss LaFleur, I would be honored if you would be so
kind as to attend the benefit with me.”

I smiled, then retrieved the invitation from
my handbag. On the back, I printed my address.

***

The Davis Salon. I gulped in a breath of air
and hung back. Keira took the lead. Anybody who was anybody in
Tkaron had their hair done here. Some Elite even made a point of
coming in from other cities, just for the Davis.

As we neared the door, a young woman hurried
past in the opposite direction. She smiled sadly. “They're booked
for today. I hope you have an appointment.”

Keira stopped and spun around. The girl
walked toward a white limousine.

I gripped my sister's arm. “Do you know who
that is?”

She nodded. “If she couldn't get in, we
don't stand a chance.”

We returned to the car. I climbed in next to
Keira and said, “Maybe we'll have to do our own hair.”

“My thoughts exactly! Why pay someone else
to...”

“No.”

We both looked at Eberhardt.

“No?” Keira asked.

“No. Guy said to bring you here. Make it
work.”

Keira shook her head in frustration and
rubbed her eyes with her palms.

She sighed. “Okay, I've got an idea.”

She dug in her purse and pulled out her
transceiver. “Would you connect me to the Everyday Elite hotline
please? Thank you.” She paused. Then in a highly excited tone she
said, “I just saw Kendra James near the Davis Salon! Is something
happening tonight?”

She disconnected and pouted. “They wouldn't
tell me.” Then her demeanor changed completely, and she smiled at
me. “Get ready to be on stage. Eberhardt, we'll see you back here
in an hour or so.”

He nodded and smiled in approval.

Keira nudged me toward the door. “Let's go
for a walk around the block.”

When we turned the corner, the scene had
changed completely. News reporters held their positions but aimed
vid'recorders at us. Questions were called out. We didn't answer. A
smiling woman waved us over to the front door and ushered us
inside.

Keira was offered the full treatment. After
she threatened to go elsewhere if they couldn't make time for both
of us, so was I. Only one reporter from Everyday Elite and his
assistant were allowed to follow us into the back room for our
consultation.

The smiling woman guided us toward some
comfortable chairs by the window and said, “I'm pleased to
introduce you to Zuri and Calista.”

Zuri was tall and lean, with a dark
complexion and black dreadlocks. Calista, pale in comparison with
short straight black hair, stood close by his side. Zuri looked
first at Keira, then at me. He sat opposite us, crossed one leg
over the other and rested his elbows on the armrests. Pressing his
index fingers together in a thoughtful manner, he began our
consultation.

“Will you be attending the Redemption for
Orphans benefit tonight?”

“Yes, how did you know?” Keira asked.

“That's why 90% of our clients are here
today. So tell us, what do your gowns look like?”

Keira looked at me.

“Do you have some paper and a pencil?” I
asked.

Zuri nodded at Calista. She went to a desk
in the corner and quickly returned with a piece of paper on a
clipboard and a sharpened pencil. As I began to sketch, Keira
described the colors.

Her strapless gown had a long flowing black
satin skirt. Beneath the fitted bodice, a white background peeked
through a black diamond pattern. Two white ribbon-like strips
wrapped around her torso, one beneath her breast-line and the other
at her waist.