Deviation (13 page)

My shoulders are heavy as I follow Taylor through the racks. The only bright spot in the entire outing is that I hear Linc’s voice on Alton’s radio every so often as he checks in from the shadowed periphery somewhere outside. The squawks and static drown out Taylor’s rambling as she details the saga of some Senator who was caught doodling his secretary. I catch myself before asking her to describe “doodling.”. The meaning is clear from her vivid descriptions.

Every so often, I murmur a response to show I’m at least pretending to listen. After a few minutes, I stop doing even that and she drones on, wandering racks. She doesn’t seem to notice as I fall farther behind.

“Raven, ohmygod you have to see this!” Taylor gushes. “Come here.”

I follow the sound of her voice and find her captivated by a small display of the highest heels I’ve ever seen. Still, I don’t quite understand the draw until I’m up close. The sole is a see-through platform that’s been hollowed out. Inside is a tiny goldfish swimming in the plum-tinted water.

“Isn’t it just beyond?” Taylor says, grinning.

“Beyond what?”

“Beyond everything! God, I swear Jorge is a genius. What will he think of next?” she says, still captivated by the tiny fish wiggling its fins inside the thick casing.

“And that,” says a voice stuck somewhere between masculine and feminine, “is the question of the century.”

A man appears from behind a single red drape obscuring the room behind it. Egleston Hawthorne, Jorge’s assistant. His jacket is tight on his scrawny arms and his shadow of a mustache has been dyed bright blond. It looks like a slug is lying across his upper lip. I try not to stare.

“Egleston,” Taylor gushes, walking forward and air-kissing both his cheeks. Her plastic smile rivals his and I wonder if I poked at them, would they pop like the bubble dress in the window.

“Darling,” he says, returning her air kisses and then fastening his icy blue eyes on me. “Miss Raven Rogen,” he says as if my name alone holds the key to his life’s happiness.

“Darling,” I say, turning off my brain and turning on the auto-pilot snark that is my character. We air kiss and then I step back because Raven Rogen doesn’t allow the help inside her bubble, even if he is worthy of an air kiss. “The shop looks fantastic.” I nod at Taylor and speak for us both. “We love the plum.”

“Of course you do. It’s so very beyond,” he says, drawing out the
o
sound. “Is there something specific I can find for you lovelies?”

“Your newest leather and most expensive purse,” Taylor says without hesitation.

Egleston blinks. “Well, well. We know what we want, don’t we? Any particular color on the leather?”

“Plum, of course,” Taylor says.

“Well, of course. Only the latest for my favorite girls. Wait here.”

Egleston disappears behind the velvet curtain but returns before either of us can move a muscle. “This,” he says, producing a shiny purple bag with a flourish, “is the latest and most daring thing. Straight from Manila. It will cost you more than three seasons of Botox.”

“Oh, not for me,” Taylor says when he tries to hand her the bag. “It’s for Raven. I’m buying,” she adds with a wink.

“Oh, a gift for the bestie?” Egleston smiles. “You’re such a giver, darling.”

I try not to choke. “Taylor, I don’t think—”

“Don’t think,” she interrupts. “Just hold the bag. Touch the bag. Love the bag. She needs retail therapy in the worst way,” she adds to Egleston.

He clucks his tongue at me sympathetically. “Oh, honey, is it a boy?”

“Isn’t it always?” Taylor says.

“You know I can hear you,” I say wryly.

“Just smell the bag,” Taylor says, waving me off. “You’ll feel better.”

I give her a look but she’s obviously serious and waits for me to comply. Tentatively, I raise the bag to my face and inhale. If soft was a scent, this would be it. It’s more a feeling than anything else, smooth and heady and luxurious. And I know this is the part of me that matches her. “Mmm,” I can’t help but murmur.

Taylor giggles and Egleston claps. “I told you,” Taylor says. “Just what the doctor ordered.”

“Oh, and this leather is just
it
. Highest quality. And lined with the softest available goat’s hide, so … two-fer! Win!”

“Oh, perfect. We’ll take it,” Taylor says.

Egleston claps. “Spectacular. Jorge will be so pleased to hear that Raven Rogen will be sporting his creation.”

I tune out as Taylor and Egleston discuss the social implications of the purse she is buying me. Across the shop, Alton is whispering fervently into his radio. His brows are drawn and his mouth is pinched. Either I’m too far away to hear or he’s turned off the speaker function. All I see are his lips moving and the worry in his expression. Something isn’t right.

I tap my foot while Taylor chit-chats. The urge to walk over and ask him what’s wrong is strong but I know he wouldn’t tell me if I did. Alton isn’t Linc. And he isn’t my friend. I have to remind myself I’m in a world where even fellow Imitations are enemies.

I don’t realize my feet have moved but by the time Taylor finishes paying, I’m already halfway to the door. Halfway to Alton. “Wait for me,” Taylor calls, hurrying to catch up.

Alton straightens and abruptly slides his radio back onto the clip on his belt. I curse Taylor for her loudness and try to read Alton’s frown. I don’t have to wait long. He meets me at the door and, instead of letting me pass through, he opens it and follows me out with a firm grip on my elbow.

“What’s going on?” I ask at the same time I hear Taylor behind me making a noise of indignation.

“What the hell is your problem? The door almost closed on me,” she snaps.

Alton doesn’t acknowledge her as he scans the crowded street. I do the same. No one seems out of place. Alton continues to stand and watch, as if he’s waiting for something. “What’s going on?” I repeat.

“A threat has been identified. You’re leaving,” Alton says.

I open my mouth—to argue, to demand, to whine—but Alton’s grip suddenly clenches against my arm and he pulls up, causing my elbow to dangle awkwardly above my shoulder. “Let go of me,” I snap.

Beside me, Taylor screeches. “What do you think you’re doing, putting your hands on her? I will have your job.”

“My job is to protect Miss Rogen,” he says. “Not follow you around the upper west side while you play dress up.” A black car pulls into traffic from the alley. Oncoming cars brake hard to avoid it and horns sound. A few pedestrians pause to study the scene but most keep moving without breaking pace. I know from riding on Linc’s motorcycle crazy drivers aren’t that much of an oddity. It isn’t until the tires screech to a stop that I realize it’s my—the Rogen family’s—car.

“We’re leaving?” I ask

“You’re leaving. I’m securing the area,” he says.

“Aren’t you supposed to come everywhere with me?” I ask, unable to help the sarcasm in my reminder.

“I’m supposed to keep you alive,” he snaps. “Now, shut up and let me do my job.”

I am about to argue, mostly because I don’t want to do anything Alton tells me, but Alton is already dragging me to the curb where the car waits. The back passenger door opens from within. No one gets out. I barely manage to keep up as Alton propels me forward.

I land in a heap, half on the seat and half on the floorboard. My new purse catches on the edge of the jamb and I barely pull it inside with me before Alton slams the door shut.

The car lurches forward and I’m thrown back with the momentum, finally dropping the bag in favor of keeping myself upright. I straighten and twist, catching a glimpse through the back window of a red-faced Taylor, her hands gesturing wildly as she fusses at Alton. He is already moving around her when we take a hard corner and they disappear.

“Ven?”

It’s not the sound of my name spoken but the voice speaking it that has me whirling back to face the car’s interior. “Linc?” I say, my heart pounding.

Linc shifts from his position in the far corner and slides onto the seat next to me.

“What are you doing here? What’s the threat?” I ask.

His expression is off somehow. It takes me a few blinks to realize he’s smiling. It’s not the appropriate response in a dangerous situation, not even for someone as confident as him. “There’s no threat,” he says and scoots closer.

“What? But Alton said—”

“I made it up.”

I stare at him, putting pieces together. “You …. made it up,” I repeat. He nods. “Why?”

“The orphans were getting antsy,” he says, and then his smile slips and he adds, “I was getting antsy.”

“It’s been a day,” I say wryly.

“It’s been a really long day.”

A radio chips and Linc detaches it from his hip, talks into it, responding to Alton as if he’s whisking me away to safety. They exchange a few words; Alton gives the directive to take me home. Linc agrees and tosses the radio aside. He pulls out his remote tracker, the one that matches my scrambler, and punches buttons.

“What are you doing?” I ask.

“Masking you.” He punches a few more buttons, then tosses that aside as well.

I’m not sure what to say or how he’s done it, but I’m grateful to be away from Alton and Taylor. Linc slides his arms around me, one hand smoothing my hair away from my face. His expression is tender and sweet, his eyes soft on mine. He leans closer. I wait, my mouth already tingling in anticipation. It’s been too long since our lips connected. I lean to meet him, impatient for his kisses.

The partition makes a sudden humming noise as it’s lowered from the driver’s side. I go rigid and my eyes widen. “Linc, who’s driving?”

“Relax, sweet lips, it’s me.” Through the rearview mirror’s reflection, my eyes meet Obadiah’s. His are crinkled around the edges from grinning at me.

“But how—?” I begin.

“Just go with it,” he says.

I shake my head. “I should’ve known from the way we took those curves that it was you.”

He laughs and glances between Linc and me. “You know it. All right, I’ll let you two crazy kids get back to whatever it is you were doing.” His eyebrows wiggle and then the partition slides back into place.

Linc is smiling when I turn to him. “Thank you for this,” I say. “I wasn’t sure how I’d see them again.”

“Of course,” he says, leaning toward me to pick up where we left off. My skin hums in anticipation. His lips are a breath away when he whispers, “I just couldn’t let him hurt you anymore.”

I stiffen and lean away so that I can think clearly. His words, the concocted threat, whisking me away … I begin to understand. “Linc, what exactly is happening here?”

He blinks as if the answer is obvious and a hard ball forms in the pit of my stomach. The car turns sharply and we each grip the seat as we’re thrown sideways. “I made a call, faked a threat against you, Obadiah got the car… I’m taking you away from it. From him.”

“For how long?”

“For good.”

“For good? Linc. You can’t— You didn’t ask me what I wanted.”

His eyes cloud. “I thought you’d be happy. You’re safe now.”

“I told you before, I want to stay,” I say. “I want to help them and the only way I can do that is from the inside.”

“That was before Alton was assigned as your new shadow.”