Chapter 10 It’s For A Good Cause, Right?
IT’S FOR A GOOD CAUSE, RIGHT?
HARLEY
We step into the venue, and I realize my tie is too tight. At least, I think it might be. Not earlier. Earlier it was perfect. But now? It’s a noose around my neck. Or maybe the air is different in here than it was on the train?
I don’t think that’s right.
I’m flushed and fidgety, have been since I picked Alice up to head to the station, and I tug at the luxe fabric that Ori forced on me before I left. The tie matches her dress perfectly, and I’m 100 percent positive he crafted it from the scraps he cut off in alterations.
His curt demand to change had rung loud in the kitchen as I grabbed my keys and wallet.
You have to match, he’d grumbled as he rounded the island, tugged my old, green tie off, and replaced it with the new one.
Ori’s hands are large, but his fingers are surprisingly nimble, and I had held my breath as they tied the knot around my neck.
There, he’d said as he expertly adjusted the fabric, thumb brushing over my chest. It had made me shiver; his voice always does. It’s deep and rumbly and—
“Do you need some water?” Alice asks, tugging me out of my thoughts and to the side of the ballroom. She chuckles, glancing out at the overwhelming space. “Or is it the opposite problem and you need a drink?”
It’s dimly lit, with pops of amber beaming up along the walls and washing over the vaulted ceiling. The charity’s logo, made of crisp light, spins above the stage, and music drifts between the buzzing guests who are looking for their number in a sea of identical round tabletops.
“Because I think I need a drink, stat. Or should we find our table first? I hate feeling directionless in a sea of people,” Alice adds on a murmur, pressing close to my side.
“Same,” I say. “Let’s do that.”
“Which one?” Alice’s eyes crinkle with humor.
I quickly scan the room and catch a line forming at a high-top bar on the other end. I point to it. “Bar first. We can scope out how the tables are numbered on the way.”
Alice spins towards the bar, her dress fluttering with the sharp action. “Smart. No wonder Jessa volunteered you.”
She grabs my hand, pancaking our palms together, and tugs, whisking me across the fancy carpet. My breath stalls in my lungs, as it does every time she touches me.
A man in all black, clearly staff, rushes past us at a brisk pace, harshly whispering into a headset. “What do you mean you lost Dr. Steier? She’s ninety years old and uses a cane. She can’t possibly have disappeared that quickly.”
“That doesn’t sound good,” I murmur, and Alice snorts.
“She’s hard to keep in one place for long.” She wiggles her fingers at her temple. “Artist brain.”
“You know who he was talking about?” I ask as we reach the bar, leaning in close so she can hear me over the music and chatter. While the height difference between us is offset by her heels, I’m still taller than her. “She sounds important.”
“Yeah, Dr. Steier’s one of the co-founders of the charity. Always makes a big speech to kick things off.”
My face pinches in confusion. “I didn’t realize you’d been to this before. I thought we were here in place of your agent?”
Alice’s hand tightens around mine; I don’t know if she realizes she hasn’t let go yet, but I leave it be. I enjoy the easy lacing of our fingers.
“Yeah, I stopped coming a couple of years ago,” Alice says, clearing her throat. “It was an excuse to travel home and see everyone, you know? But then I missed one because of a move, and after that I never made it back.”
“Wait, you used to live here?” I ask.
Her hand, manicured for the first time since she moved here, scratches at her neck. Alice’s curls are pinned in a messy chignon at the base of her skull, and it leaves the pale expanse exposed. Red lines of irritation form in the wake of her nails.
“Yep, I grew up in the city,” she says.
“You were that close?” I whisper.
“Sorry?”
“To your grandma, I mean,” I stumble. “Only a train ride away from Meadowbrook?”
Was she truly only a two-hour train ride away this whole time?
“Oh. Yeah. I used to spend summers out in Meadowbrook, but that stopped in middle school. I was too ambitious in my extra-curricular activities and got busy—dual art and sports hobbies did not make for a lot of free time,” Alice says with an awkward chuckle.
“I actually benefitted from one of the community programs this charity started. Dr. Steier is part of why I went to college where I did. She taught there. Got her hands in everything, that woman…”
Her voice trails off as we make it to the front of the line and place our orders with the bartender. Her hand finally releases mine, and my palm mourns the loss of her heat.
As much as I’d like to think we know Alice, the truth is that there’s two thirds of her life we know nothing about. A few weeks of fast friendship and tentative flirtation, however pleasant, is nothing in comparison to nearly twenty years of absence.
The watch on my wrist ticks, and while it shouldn’t be possible, I feel each click of the second hand in my bones. Time isn’t on our side. We only have until August…
Alice gets some mixed drink off the specialty menu listed on an acrylic stand and I opt for a rum and coke. We clink our glasses and take a sip of our respective drinks—our lips both twisting at the strength.
“Okay. I see how it is. Get the guests drunk so their wallets get loose,” I tease, shaking off the burn of liquor in my throat.
“Shhh, don’t reveal their secrets. It’s for a good cause,” Alice snickers. The lights dim and brighten three times in quick succession, a signal to get to our table. “Let’s find our seats. It’s so awkward walking between the tables once speeches start.”
Alice grabs my hand again, and my heartbeat thunders in my chest. We weave between the other scrambling patrons until we find our table, which is already full, save for two empty seats meant for us.
I place my drink on the table before I pull out Alice’s chair for her. Her lips twist, and now I recognize the pucker for the hidden smile it is. Her eyes roll, but she accepts, and takes her seat gracefully.
“Alice? That you?” A man across the table laughs, an obnoxiously haughty ha-ha, as he leans forward to dramatically squint at her.
He stands, rounding the table to lean in and kiss Alice on her cheeks the way fancy people do in movies.
A frown pulls at my lips as his hand falls to the top of Alice’s chair and he hunches to chat, crowding her in.
I’m not usually the territorial type, that’s more Ori or Jessa’s thing, but this man’s proximity to my… date… has my hackles rising.
“I was expecting Steph and Erica to roll in fashionably late,” the man says.
Alice smiles up at him, but the polite dimple in her cheek divulges her discomfort. I’ve seen her real smiles. This isn’t one of them.
“Flight issues with their vacation, so she called in the cavalry. How have you been, Chad?” Alice asks.
Chad. If the man hadn’t already set my jaw to grind mode, his name would. Chad sounds like a player. And based on how his date is sourly staring at Alice from across the table, I’d be correct.
“Oh, you know, the usual,” he says, slimy businessman gaze sliding to me. “You finally ditch the guard dog from college?”
Alice stiffens, leaning away from him. “I’m sorry?”
Chad’s head jerks at me. “He seems much more your type.”
There’s a singular beat of silence. I can’t see Alice’s face, but I don’t need to. At her edges, the air vibrates with anger. Sometimes, emotions are so strong they can saturate the world around a person.
“Actually, my husband is deployed right now, so my friend kindly offered to accompany me,” Alice says.
At the same time Chad’s expression drops, my gut sinks.
Husband?
In an act of godly timing, the conversation is cut off by the lights dimming completely and a video rolling on the projectors next to the stage. Chad quickly ducks low and slinks to his seat.
“Asshole,” Alice mutters under her breath.
She slides her chair closer to the table and grabs her drink, downing it one go. She casts me a nervous glance, and I try to act natural in return.
Calm. Cool. Collected.
Not totally freaking out.
Pretending that what she just said isn’t sending me into a spiral of epic proportions—pretending as if I didn’t hear it at all.
Alice’s attention shifts to the stage, where an ancient woman—Dr. Steier I presume—drones on thanking tonight’s sponsors.
I sneak glimpses of Alice throughout the fanfare; I analyze the tight set of her jaw, her fingers tapping at her glass and the lack of a ring on the fourth finger of her left hand.
There are no rings at all, not on her fingers. But there are around her neck.
A single chain, from which three rings dangle. Two simple platinum bands of different sizes, and one with three tiny diamonds embedded in it.
She wears them all the time—never hiding them—though they often go unseen past the neckline of her shirts. I’d assumed they were her parents’ rings, or her Nana’s, or simply an artistic fashion choice. Artists are eclectic like that, right?
How stupid was I, to not consider the obvious?
The thoughts are a storm rattling my brain as Dr. Steier finishes her speech.
Is she still married? If so, where is he? Is he military and deployed, like she said? Or it is that she’s divorced and doesn’t want to admit it?
No. You don’t wear three rings around your neck if you’re divorced.
Fuck.
I think I’ve figured out what’s haunting our Champion.
I grab my rum and coke and drink deep.
We’ve had too much to drink.
We stumble down the stairs of Track Fifteen in Penn Station and jump through the first train door we see.
Alice limps towards the center of the car, where she falls into the four seats that face each other.
We’re on one of the last trains home, and this line isn’t as popular as others, so we’re in the clear to commandeer all four.