17. Red
Chapter seventeen
Red
Freedom has a unique taste. Right now, it’s lined with car fumes, the occasional tang of cigarettes, and frying oil from a nearby burger shop. But it’s still delicious. Maybe more than those flavors, it’s the pronounced lack of air-conditioning and scent dampeners that makes the air feel brand new.
And the absolute anonymity of it all makes me giddy.
I walk through a crowd of people, all going about their own business, with no one to trail after me monitoring my behavior. I grin recklessly as I tap my permanently borrowed bank card to pay for a freshly baked pretzel at a cafe with a street service window before meandering further along the road.
One day in the future I’ll walk along this street and everyone will know my name, and my personal flock of paparazzi will trail after me. The other me will handle all that when it happens, but for now, flying solo is awesome.
I should probably make sure I’m not using a stolen credit card once I’m famous. The idea makes me a chuckle as I throw my wrapper in a trash can. The Center’s wristband slides down my arm and I push it back into a more comfortable position.
The sidewalk detours away from the busy city center to skirt around a tiny blanket of parkland. I rest my ass on a wooden bench to sink my teeth into the spongy goodness of my hot pretzel, the sea salt flakes tickling my tongue with each lick.
Even more pleasing is the view on the hillside overlooking the city where a tall turbine reaches up into the sky with giant gold letters running down the length.
Ommywood.
Let’s be real, it’s rather phallic, and I plan to spread myself over everything it represents.
The irony is great. All these years I was trapped within three hundred miles of the place I wanted to be most in the world. Surely it’s a good sign. Ommywood: the collection of the biggest movie production companies in the country, including West Wind, Coppernaught Productions, and Film Justice.
I’ll walk myself right through the front door and demand a meeting with one of the Big Six directors. Yeah, I know it sounds delusional, but all I need to do is create an opportunity to let them see my acting skills. That’s the real challenge.
Once I’m a famous actress, my alphas will naturally find me, I’m certain. Job first, alphas second.
I swipe crumbs from my lips with one thumb and jump up, feeling refreshed. Of course, I don’t want to walk into a job interview looking like a salvage case and smelling even remotely like a garbage truck, but finding a shower in the heart of a city is easier said than done.
I link my hands and turn my palms out, stretching my wrists and fingers. This is another task for Red Hawk and the perfect target looms a few blocks away—a giant Romdine Grand Hotel.
My loafers carry me down the block, and I slip my hands into my pockets as I saunter into the foyer like I belong there. With no time to gawk at the chandeliers and gold fittings, I head down the first wide corridor in sight, gathering a collection of excuses. A staff member wheels a big chrome trolley up to a set of elevators, and I pause on the other side to slide one of the purple suitcases off the rack while they press buttons before slipping directly into the second elevator.
The employee areas are easy to find, since they’re labeled staff only , and I check through a few storage areas before finding a uniform in a laundry bag. It smells worse than I do and has some kind of sauce smeared down the front, but it’s close enough to my size to work. It only takes a minute to shimmy into the uniform and load my old clothes into the bag.
The voices in my head grow louder than ever and blend together more. I’m going to need to study the mental change when I get a moment, but for now I need to be fully on task and these noisy alphas aren’t helping. I brace against a doorway while I try to push the voice static away so I can concentrate.
The purple suitcase bumps against my legs as I stroll through the wings, looking for a housekeeping cart. Lady Luck shines on me again because I find a woman about to close a door and as she turns I catch her nametag.
“Hold that for me, will you, Loretta? Some kid just dumped his hot dog all over me. I promise I won’t mess up your work. I just need to get changed before I deliver this case.”
She glances at my uniform and holds the door wide. “Damn, don’t you hate that? Everyone’s on holiday except us and they don’t care how much mess they make.”
“Yeah, you got that right. Thanks.” I slide past her and the door thumps shut behind me. I wait a moment, then carefully ease the latch to the lock position and jiggle my shoulders in a happy dance.
A shower washes off all hints of the garbage truck scent. I hum a tune as I go through the purple suitcase, muttering a hushed apology to the owner as I rifle out some pretty black lace underwear. Whoever the “Lily” is on the nametag, she clearly has a better life than I do.
I help myself to her spare purse, of which she has three packed in this suitcase, and a halter top sundress in a lovely shade of teal that will make my skin pop, and then skedaddle the hell out of the borrowed hotel suite.
I complete my handiwork by depositing the towel next to the pool and throwing the suitcase back on a parked bag trolley, but the moment I step off the lobby elevator, I spy a massive problem standing between me and the front doors.
She goes by the name of Samantha and comes as a complete set with not two but three burly beta guards. “Have you seen this woman?” she asks, leaning over the front desk to flash my photo.
“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!” I hiss under my breath, spinning and diving back into the elevator. I slap the close button about three hundred times before those doors slide shut, leaving me leaning against the handrail on trembling legs. How the hell did she find me?
I clench my hands, and my gaze tracks down to the ID bracelet circling my wrist. Like a fucking numbskull, I left the Omega Center-issued jewelry on my arm, forgetting it’s embedded with a chip, or RFID, or some shit that identifies me for my meals back at the Center cafeteria.
“Seriously, Red?” I roll my eyes at myself in the reflection, pissed and scared in equal measure.
The voices clamor louder in my head, and I wince. Not now, boys.
While the elevator climbs, I rest my head against the mirrored surface and think. I can take the bracelet off, but if I leave it here, they’ll know I’ve simply slipped their net. No, I need to send them on a wild goose chase that gives me enough time to find a guardian prepared to vouch for me at Ommywood.
Right. I straighten. “We can do this, Red,” I mutter to myself as I scrub away the patch of mist left by my breath on the glass. I’m not ready to give up my freedom again just yet. “We were born to act.”
I drag the offending metal-link band off my arm and roll it between my fingers as I take the elevator back down to the third floor, then work my way through three flights of stairs, checking each stairwell before descending. On the ground floor, some kind of finance seminar runs in the ballroom, so I let myself in when a staff member pushes through the doors, carrying stacked plastic crates. Coffee aroma wraps itself into my nostrils, and I moan in the back of my throat.
While I help myself to a latte with sugar, I keep one ear peeled to the conversations around me as the meeting goers pack up while excitedly discussing the pros and cons of micro investing. Is that like putting your money in the microwave oven, or what?
Suddenly one guy pulls away from the closest cluster. “Shit, I’m going to miss my flight at this rate. Great to meet you all.” He shoulders a crossbody leather satchel and smooths down his skinny tie before waving.
“Excuse me,” I call as I lurch forward to grab his arm.
“Yes?”
“Oh.” I flap my hand side to side. “I’m so sorry. I thought you were someone else.”
He smiles, blue eyes lighting up. “I can be someone else for you for a night, if you want, pretty omega.”
Ew. I step back, resisting the urge to dump my drink in his face—would be a waste of a really good latte. “Sorry, I’m taken.” It’s the truth . . . I just haven’t actually met them yet. “Safe travels.”
The man shrugs and turns away, and I smile as he carries my bracelet in his bag to the airport. Nicely done, Red Hawk.
Instead of returning to the front entrance, I work my way through the room, snagging a lemon curd Danish and slipping through a staff access door that leads to a kitchen.
In another few minutes I’m breathing free air again, this time ladened with warm exhaust from the hotel’s air-conditioning system. Still sweet as sin to my palate. A happy whistle works through my lips as I get on a bus half a block away and ride for a few minutes until I see the Ommywood tower once more, speaking to me like a giant dickish calling card.
I ring the bell three times in excitement, making my fellow passengers glare at me, to which I offer them my middle finger. Politely, though, with an elegant little twist of my wrist. Queenly, if you prefer.
I stumble as I leap off the bus step and lope down the sidewalk, eyes fixed on cinema’s Pearly Gates as I weave between people. Too many people. Their scents clog my nose, and I gag when my stomach rebels. I pause to catch my breath, one hand on my stomach to will it into submission.
The building beside me catches my gaze, not because of its old-world architecture complete with carved statues on the roofline, but because of the nice little patch of manicured lawn held together by a retaining wall and curving double flights of steps. I tilt my head; I can only hope my vajayjay will look that perfectly manicured one day.
Someone crashes into my shoulder, spinning me around and breaking my focus. I stagger and look back the way I came.
A tall man walks toward me, chattering something into his phone, clad in a single-breasted suit with a darker gray satin vest underneath. I lift my chin and breathe in a scent so pure and full, like the woodlands fabric softener I tested back at the Omega Center, but better.
Cherry wood, to be precise.
A quiver runs through my body. The alpha looks up, as if sensing my presence, and the moment my eyes meet his black ones, one of the voices in my head goes completely silent.
My body moves without my permission, and I crash into him, climbing him in a heartbeat and sending us both sprawling toward the grassy lawn.
I dip my nose into his neck and my heart double beats. Better taste, just to be sure. My pussy gushes as I nibble the skin stretched over the pulse in his neck and I moan faintly as his alpha scent meets my taste buds. I’m tingling all over.
Fate has a funny sense of humor. The moment I decided to put my career first, she brought my scent match to me.
But mate or not, I’m tangled up with an alpha and my alarm response rises like a volcano about to blow. “Get off me.”
He blinks once and then smirks. “I would, darling, but you’re the one on top of me.”
A shiver rolls down my spine at that perfect, sultry voice. When I glance down, I find he’s correct. I have pinned on the ground like I’m ready to ravish him.
That actually sounds like a great idea.