The Girl Who Wasn't (31 page)

She purses her lips, squinting at Linc
as if trying to place his face against the list of names of who
matter in her head. “And you are …?”

“
No one,” he assures her
with a brilliant smile.

The woman leans away, confusion dotting
her features, and frowns. Before she can formulate a response,
someone taps a microphone, the sound echoing, and the crowd hushes.
I smother a giggle and in the darkness, I take Linc’s hand, tucking
it discreetly between us.

On stage, a slight man in
tight pants and a too-small sport coat smiles at the crowd. His
yellow-blond hair glows in the stage lights. “Can I have your
attention, please?” he says, his voice nasal and high. “My name is
Egleston Hawthorne. On behalf of Jorge Estrada and myself, I’d like
to welcome you to Grundy’s for the annual summer collection
preview. I think you’re going to love what Jorge has done this
season. His theme this season is entitled ‘
Sexentricity
.’ Now, without further
ado, the summer collection …”

The man scoots off the stage as pulsing
music begins and the first model appears from behind the curtain. A
tall statue of a woman who’s only proof of mobility is one foot in
front of the other. Her face is a controlled mask. Uncaring, devoid
of life. But her face isn’t what they’ve come to see. It’s her
wardrobe everyone applauds for.

I can only stare in amazement. The
woman on stage is decked out in some sort of metal contraption. It
is strung around her body like rings on a planet. I can’t even see
where they attach to her. The only fabric she wears is a piece of
material stretched tight and thin over her chest and a pair of
fitted shorts, equally small and snug, that barely cover her hind
parts. Her hair is done in an elaborate twist with more metal rings
floating around her head.

“
Whoa,” I say.

“
Ditto,” Linc whispers
back.

Beside me, Floriana claps excitedly,
her attention glued to the contraption being modeled onstage. It
shouldn’t surprise me considering the cellophane dress. I have a
feeling this woman will be first in line when the metal-ringed
outfit goes on sale.

The first model finishes her walk and
disappears backstage. Right on cue, the next girl steps out. The
applause pauses long enough for people to take in her ensemble.
“Oohs” and “aahs” vibrate around the room. Then the clapping
resumes and the words are drowned out.

This girl is slightly less over the
top, but it’s still ridiculous to me. Her hair has been somehow
plaited and set in place to look like a fan sticking out of the
back of her head. Her outfit, done in white and shimmering gold,
has the same shape. A large tail protrudes behind her, thick and
stiff so that it is a plaited fan that wraps around her waistline
from left to right. Her shoes are platform sandals that give her at
least another eight inches of height.

“
How can she walk in those
things?” I whisper.

“
You don’t like the shoes? I
thought for sure you’d want a pair.”

Even in the darkness I can see his
teasing grin. I stifle a giggle and catch my cellophane-clad
neighbor giving me the evil eye. “Sshh!” she hisses.

“
Come on.” Linc rises from
his chair and motions for me to follow.

When we reach the end of our row, he
pushes open an unmarked door and we slip through. The hall is dimly
lit but empty. To the right, I can hear the hum of voices and
assume it must lead backstage. Linc motions me left. We go a short
distance before he pushes through another doorway. This one leads
to a stairwell. As we climb, the layer of dust and grime coating
the floor mutes the click of my heels. I am careful not to touch
the railing.

“
Where are we going?” I
ask.

“
You’ll see.”

We keep climbing until we run out of
stairs. At the top, Linc opens a heavy door and ushers me out. I
wait while he wedges something in the opening to keep it from
locking.

“
What are we doing up here?”
I ask.

He shrugs as we wander the space. “I
couldn’t take much more of plastic-wrap Medusa. I figured you could
use a break too.”

I curl my fingers around his. “It seems
rooftops are becoming our thing.”

He smiles crookedly. “I like a girl
who’s partial to rooftops.”

“
I’m more partial to your
motorcycle.”

“
It doesn’t scare
you?”

“
No. Well, not in a bad
way.”

“
What do you
mean?”

“
It was a little scary at
first but after the initial rush of fear, it was just … a rush.
That first night I rode with you, I—” I hesitate because admitting
this feels like handing him a weakness. Something I was trained not
to do, but it’s Linc and I want to share everything with him, not
just facts. I want him to know how I feel. About everything. Or
everything I’m capable of feeling. So I finish by whispering, “I
climaxed.”

He stills. There is a small smile on
his lips as he watches me. “You never told me that.”

I wrinkle my nose. “I didn’t want to
sound like an idiot.”

“
Why would you sound like an
idiot?”

“
Because. Riding your
motorcycle has been one of my favorite parts of this new life.
Every time I ride or even think of riding, it makes me think things
that…well, if I said them aloud they’d sound silly and poetic. And
with the other thing,” I shrug, unsure how to finish.

“
You mean the fact that
sitting close to me on a revving engine got you off,” he whispers
and I know he’s enjoying this.

I scowl at my own uncertainty over
saying the words—and I remember how flippantly Taylor talked of
sex. “I sound like some easily impressed upon … child,” I say.
“Some innocent, naïve—”

“
I like your innocence,” he
cuts in softly.

I sigh as I gather my words carefully.
“Good, because … I think, for me, riding a motorcycle is like
running from something and toward it all at the same time. Does
that sound ridiculous?”

He uses the backs of his fingers to
trace a trail down my cheek. “No. It sounds exactly right. I feel
that way too. It’s actually the only time I feel free of all of
this.” He gestures to the building we are standing on but I know he
means so much more than a fashion show at Grundy’s.

“
I get it. Riding with you,
I feel … bigger than I am. Like I could maybe matter. Like the
universe notices me.”

“
Angel, you do
matter.”

I shake my head. “Not yet. But I
will.”

We leave just before the show ends.
Linc is subdued after our rooftop conversation. He seems distracted
by his own thoughts and I am too wrapped up in mine to pursue it. I
rub absently at the mark on my neck, the inked numbers raised
slightly higher than the rest of my tattoos.

I catch Linc watching and quickly drop
my hand to my lap. We ride the rest of the way in
silence.

Inside the elevator at Rogen Tower,
Linc hits the button that will take us upstairs and then picks at
his tie until it loosens and he pulls it free. He tilts his neck
side to side and sighs.

“
Better?” I ask,
amused.

“
Much,” he
agrees.

The elevator opens and I step out. A
single security guard is stationed nearby. He nods at us and we
make our way down the hall and to my room. The hallways are empty
of sentries. Most of them have been moved downstairs or doubled up
on the exits and rooftop. Daniel as a prisoner trumps me as a
prisoner, I suppose.

Linc stops outside my bedroom. “I’m
going to find Titus and give my report. I’ll come see you before I
go.”

We both know where he’ll go when he
leaves and I am already impatient at the thought. “No, just talk to
Titus and get going as soon as you can.”

“
Are you sure?”

“
Yes. I just need to
know.”

“
I’ll see you in the
morning, angel.”

“
See you.”

He hesitates a second longer and I
wonder if he’s going to kiss me right here in the hallway. I can’t
help glancing at his mouth as I think it. Instead, he lets out a
quiet groan and then turns and walks away.

Chapter Seventeen

That night, I am woken by the sound of
my name. “Ven … Ven.”

And in my half-awake, half-dreaming
state, my first thought is how nice it is to hear those three
letters spoken together out loud.

“
Ven.”

The voice comes again, loud enough to
chase away the fog and then I’m awake and breathing heavily while
somehow not breathing at all because someone is in my room in the
middle of the night, calling me by my real name.

“
Linc?”

“
It’s me,” he says and the
words are rushed. “I need you to come outside.”

“
Why?”

“
She’s here.”

Those two words are all I need to get
moving. I know without being told exactly who he means. Instantly,
I am on my feet and pulling on pants without a thought as to what
Linc can see in the moonlit room.

“
She came willingly?” I ask,
pulling a sweater on over my camisole nightshirt.

“
Yes. But she won’t come in
until she talks to you.”

I nod and push my feet into the closest
pair of shoes. “Where?”

“
Outside.” There is the
briefest pause and then he adds, “In the alley.”

I still. For three beats I don’t say a
word. That’s how long it takes me to shake the images of the last
time Melanie and I were in the alley together. “Do you think it’s a
trap?”

He crosses to me and takes me gently by
the shoulders. “For what it’s worth, no, I don’t. I think there’s a
reason she’s allowing herself to be captured, but I don’t think you
are it.”

I let that sink in a moment. Still, I
don’t move. The pressure of his hands on my shoulders is just
enough to be reassuring.

“
And I’ll be right next to
you the entire time,” he adds.

That, combined with my curiosity
propels me onward. “Let’s go.”

The hallways are deserted. There is no
guard in the foyer and I want to ask how Linc managed it but I know
better than to make any noise. Linc doesn’t press the button for
the elevator. Instead, he leads me through a side door and down a
flight of stairs. We are careful to keep our steps
silent.

At the next landing, we take the door
leading into a darkened hallway and Linc calls the elevator. It
dings so loudly, I feel they’ve heard it all the way through the
building. We step inside and the door closes. Beside me, Linc is
rigid. I am wound just as tight. There is nothing to say but I slip
my hand into his and he squeezes.

When we step into the lobby, Linc veers
left. We take a back exit that opens directly into the alley. The
door shuts behind us, sealing us and any noise out.

“
Melanie,” Linc calls
softly.

Silence.

“
You left her out here
alone?” I ask him incredulously.

“
Relax,” I hear as a mane of
red hair materializes from around the far side of the Dumpster. “If
I didn’t want to be here, I wouldn’t have come.”

“
Melanie.” Everything in me
wants to take a giant step backward at the sight of her piercing
gray eyes and glowing hair. I squeeze Linc’s hand and stand my
ground. “What do you want?”

“
I want to talk,” she says,
shrugging as if it’s all that simple.

“
To talk,” I repeat, letting
the skepticism show in my voice. “We can do that once you’ve come
inside.”

“
I’d rather this story be
for your ears only,” she says pointedly.

“
Linc stays.”

She shrugs. “It’s cool, I figured as
much. When I say alone, I mean without your daddy. Or fake Daddy.
Or he’s real but you’re … whatever. You know what I
mean.”

I bristle with irritation. It gives me
more confidence, diminishes the fear. “You have five minutes. I
don’t owe you anything.”

“
Actually, that’s the thing.
You sort of do owe me.”

She takes a step forward. I tense and
Linc steps between us, blocking me. “Stay where you are,” he tells
her.

She holds up her hands in front of her.
I look away because even though she meant the gesture to be one of
acquiescence, all I see are the weapons she used to try to kill me.
She’s so much stronger than she looks. Again, I am reminded of
Lonnie, her wiry strength and unswerving determination when she
sets a goal. I realize their chins jut in the same way.

“
I won’t move,” she says,
her tone full of innocence. I can’t tell if she’s lying.

“
Talk,” I say.

“
Here’s the thing. I know
who you are: Ven from Twig City. And I know what you are:
Imitation. I also know there is an entire underground city full of
you. Well, not you, exactly, but other products.” She pauses,
possibly to let the full weight of her words settle around
us.