Fast-Tracked (13 page)

The girls were furious with me. They went out of their way to make it obvious that they weren’t talking to me. The only exception was Trisha. She just quietly sat focusing all her attention on her lunch plate.

I was determined to keep up my unfazed façade. So I smiled pleasantly as I filled my lunch plate and sat down at the table with them. Frustrated that I didn’t look the least bit miserable or lonely, they started sneezing and coughing words under their breath like, “lying loser,” and, “dirty slut,” – but it just made me smile even more. After all, it’s hard to take anyone covered in head-to-toe pink that seriously. I wondered to myself just what their apartments looked like.

When their taunts failed to work, they started flinging bits of peas and corn in my direction. I felt the heat rise in my cheeks and my mouth start to twitch into a frown despite my best efforts to appear unaffected. I was about to tell them off when they all seemed to freeze mid-throw and look up.

Before I had a chance to turn around, a soft black scarf was wrapped around my neck. “You forgot this at the club last night,” a warm welcome voice murmured into my ear. I turned around and shot Avery a huge smile. He had gotten my email about the prank and had come to my rescue. “But I’m glad you did; it gave me an excuse to come here and rescue you from the slop they dare to call food.” He picked up my plate, examined it, and tossed it back down in disgust.

He started to pull me to my feet, but I said, “I don’t have enough time left to go anywhere.”

Loud enough for all the girls to hear, he responded, “Not to worry.
I already made all the necessary arrangements with Mrs.
Glabough
. She’s confident you don’t need the afternoon’s lesson, so you have the rest of the day off. But before we go, you’ll need to grab a bathing suit.” Then he leaned in and whispered, “Unless you prefer to skinny-dip.”

“One bathing suit coming right up,” I chirped, ignoring his last comment. I quickly headed out of the cafeteria, happy to see that the other girls were seething with envy. I may have no romantic interest in Avery, but I appreciated that he was handsome. Apparently so did the other girls.

Leaving the apartment took a little longer than I had planned. I had forgotten about the camera installation, but luckily the installer arrived right as we were about to leave. So I gave him instructions on its placement and headed back inside with Avery.

“So what’s up with the camera?
Afraid of stalkers?”
Avery teased.

“Hardly.
I expect the girls to try retaliating. Despite the fact that I didn’t actually do anything besides avoid getting dyed,” I grumbled. I was still annoyed by just how immature the girls were.

“Ah, beautiful and brainy.
Such a lethal combination.”
Avery chuckled. “So have you thought about what you’ll do with the footage?”

I stared back at him curiously. “Just what would I do with it besides hand it over to Mrs.
Glabough
?”

“So smart, but still so naïve.”
Avery shook his head in exaggerated disappointment. “You want power, right?”

“Yeah, but from what you said last night, it’s going to take time for that.” I gave him a weary look as I tried to figure out just what he was getting at.

“Well there’s more than one way to get power. Who you know is one of them, but that can be a very fickle power. You lose favor with the wrong person and you can find yourself at a serious disadvantage. The best power doesn’t come from who you know, but from what you know. That’s the kind of power you can – and might as well – start building now.” He gave the end of my nose a playful flick as he stood up and walked out to the patio.

“I hardly think footage of girls pulling a prank is going to give me the power I need,” I argued as I followed him outside.

“Don’t be so short-sighted. It starts with the tape. Use the tape to get the girls to help you in some way, hopefully in a way they wouldn’t want anyone else to know about. Then you use that information to coerce them the next time and continue on until you have the kind of dirt needed to destroy them. Compile enough secrets about enough people and you’ll have all of New York bowing at your feet.” He laughed as he gestured out to the city below.

“Are all fast-trackers as evil as you?” I asked, trying to hide my shock and disbelief with a nervous laugh.

“Sadly no, but I am an evil genius in training. But still, never let your guard down; the rest constantly strive to reach my level of perfection and wouldn’t hesitate to use whatever dirt they have on you.” He let out a wild, evil genius cackle.

Rolling my eyes at him, I pointed out, “If things were really the way you make them sound, there wouldn’t be any fast-trackers left; they would have already destroyed each other with their secrets.” I gave him a smug prove-me-wrong smile.

“But that brings us to the best kind of power – mutually assured destruction. It’s what keeps fast-trackers so closely united. A fast-tracker never crosses another fast-tracker when they know they have the power to directly or indirectly crush them.” I stared at Avery in utter amazement. His lighthearted, playful demeanor was completely contradictory to his calculating mind. I wanted to believe that he was just spinning a wild yarn to tease me – but my gut told me otherwise.

Deciding I might as well take advantage of his dark insight, I asked, “So what do you mean by ‘indirectly’?”

“Even if you know the person doesn’t have anything they can use against you, it doesn’t mean that they don’t have something against someone who does have the power to destroy you.” Avery stopped and gave a thoughtful look. “Really, in the end, most fast-trackers just collect the incriminating evidence to protect themselves, but never use it against another fast-tracker.”

A knock at the door interrupted us. It was the installer. I walked back inside to open it. Over my shoulder, I said, “I think you’ve taught me more in five minutes that Mrs.
Glabough
could have taught me in a year.”

The installer reviewed his work with me and then confirmed the link properly downloaded onto my tablet. Satisfied with his work, I asked for his identification card. The installer gave me a nervous look while Avery gave me a curious one. Ignoring them both I tapped the man’s ID and gave him a tip. When the installer saw what I did his eyes grew wide and he began to profusely thank me.

“It’s a bit early for campaigning,” Avery said as soon as the installer left.

“What?” I got defensive. “It wasn’t that big of a tip.”

“If we tipped every time someone did something we would end up broke. That guy already gets paid for his job; a tip wasn’t necessary. Only politicians tip – and usually only during campaign years,” Avery scoffed.

I decided to ignore him. I was raised to give a tip for a job well done and I wasn’t about to change that practice. It was becoming clear to me that my relationship with Avery would be a like-hate one. The only question that remained was just how heavily it would lean toward the hate side.

Before I forgot, I tried to hand him back his scarf. I told him it was a nice touch to make our meeting seem less staged. But he said it was a gift and insisted I keep it. I continued to protest, but finally he quirked an eyebrow at me and said, “I think
it’s
bad karma to refuse a simple act of kindness.”

Yielding to the fact that this was one argument I wouldn’t win, I smiled and said, “Thank you.” I just hoped gift giving was common practice between fast-trackers and not a sign that he was trying to circumvent my wishes not to be in a relationship.

Avery wouldn’t tell me where we were going for lunch. He said he wanted it to be a surprise. He certainly had my curiosity piqued as he led me deeper and deeper into the botanical gardens. He finally stopped when we reached the man-made lake in the center of it. Then he led me down a dock to his boat.

Gesturing to a large white ship, Avery said, “It’s not much; it’s just under twenty-five feet, but it’s the largest allowed on the lake. One weekend we’ll have to take a trip to the shore. Then I can show you a real boat.”

Avery gave me a quick tour. It was clear that his idea of ‘not much’ was very different from mine. I had only seen pictures of boats this large. It wasn’t a yacht, but it had plenty of space. Up top there was an area for sunning, a small table with a curve-around bench, and even a small grill. Down below there was a full kitchen, bathroom, and an area for sleeping. It definitely gave us more seclusion than I was comfortable with. I was about to suggest we just have lunch on the dock, when Avery started the boat and headed toward the middle of the lake.

Once we were in the center of the lake Avery turned off the boat and disappeared below. I intentionally remained above deck. This was starting to feel very much like a date – despite my very clear wishes otherwise. Then Avery reappeared with a tray of assorted sandwiches and a pitcher of lemonade.

“Avery, this is too much,” I protested. “You know I’m not interested in dating anyone.”

“You think lemonade and sandwiches are a date? Someone has definitely fallen short in their efforts to woo you. If this was meant to be a date there would at least be some flowers and champagne.” Avery sounded amused, but I could see the hurt in his eyes. “This is just two friends hanging out, enjoying lunch and a swim.
Nothing more.”
 

“Okay, friends.”
I smiled and grabbed a sandwich.

Apparently satisfied that I had accepted his explanation he poured some lemonade for the two of us and sat down beside me.

For the rest of the week Avery met me every day for lunch. But he refrained from bringing me on any more excursions and either brought lunch with him or escorted me to a local restaurant. It made my days more bearable. I needed someone to talk to. Camille had ignored all my attempts to contact her and the girls hadn’t gotten over their anger. If anything it had grown. I had started eating my dinners in my room just to avoid having to pick vegetables out of my hair.

As much as I wanted to punch each one of them into a bloody stupor, I didn’t think that would go over well with Mrs.
Glabough
. She had already shown herself to be a valuable ally. I wasn’t about to ruin that for a few moments of satisfaction.

Chapter 9

During Friday’s lunch, Avery announced that Grayson, one of his friends I’d met at the club, was having a get-together. He advised me to dress similarly to when we went to Club Night and to be ready by six o’clock.

When we arrived at Grayson’s four-story home, I quickly realized Avery’s idea of a get-together was a full blown party. I also realized just how far out of my league I was. Grayson’s home was amazing. The front was a beautiful white brick with ornately carved accents. Flowering shrubs and fruit trees dotted the yard. All four floors inside the home were lavishly decorated, and there seemed to be a different style and theme to every floor. But I was the only one who seemed the least bit impressed with any of it. Avery just appeared bored when I pointed out any of the décor or architecture.

The ancient Greeks and Romans were clearly the influence on the first floor, while the second floor had a definite Spanish origin. Suits of armor and ornately jeweled gold and silver swords dominated the third floor. Upon finding a rendering of Camelot, I decided it was supposed to be a representation of the medieval era in Europe. I couldn’t quite figure out what the fourth floor was supposed to be. It looked like a whimsical wood nymph had been given free rein to decorate as she chose fit. Even though the style was haphazard and childish, it was anything but cheap. On close inspection I realized the vines of the leaves that adorned many of the walls were comprised mostly of crystal, but roughly cut emeralds set in gold smattered it periodically.

“Wine, ma’am?” a young girl hesitantly asked me. The look of apprehension on her face told me she was worried I’d be offended that she dared to bother me.

“No thank you,” I said and gave her what I hoped was a friendly and a reassuring smile. I don’t know if she took it that way, because she quickly darted away. “She can’t be more than ten,” I said to Avery.

He just looked back at me blankly.

After a moment I snapped, “She’s too young to be a worker.”

“Oh. It’s expected for the family members of servants to assist in the workload.”

Looking around I noticed young servants seemed to be floating around everywhere just waiting to serve everyone’s needs. There was clearly an uneven ratio of children to adult workers.

“Workers aren’t allowed to have more than two children. Just how many servants does Grayson have?” I asked apprehensively.

“I’m sure many of them are orphans. Without parents to provide for them they have to earn their keep somehow.” He spoke offhandedly, and he didn’t give any of the children so much as a second glance.

“So those children work instead of going to school,” I said, beginning to understand the bigger implications of what he said. Avery just nodded as he waved over a servant carrying a tray of hors d'oeuvres.

“You simply have to try these cheese puffs. They’re to die for; unfortunately Grayson’s family absolutely refuses to let their chefs give out the recipe. Horribly selfish if you ask me,” he said as he tried to pop one in my mouth.