INNOCENCE
“We live and learn to share good laughs.
We try and we cry to play sad songs.
We stay and we go to say goodbyes.
And we hate and love to share memories.”
Melody Manful
“Abby, is everything all right up there?”
Crap. “Yes, Mom, I’m almost done!” I jumped off my bed and hurried into my walk-in closet. For some reason, my body wasn’t hurting anymore from training the previous night.
My mother was launching her pre-spring collection, an addition to her fashion line Cells. Although I knew she was still sad that my father left, she wasn’t about to miss the after-party. She asked me to get ready for the party, but instead I took a shower, called my friends, and rushed into bed to read Romeo and Juliet for the millionth time.
I grabbed the first dress I saw upon entering my closet. I was in luck; I had retrieved a red, short Alexander McQueen dress. I tugged it on and then snatched a pair of black Christian Louboutin pumps from a shelf and rushed into my bathroom. I quickly brushed my hair, slipped into the heels, and dashed out of my room as fast as I could.
“I know you don’t like crowds, honey, but please smile for me tonight,” my mother said when I came downstairs. She stood together with one of my bodyguards, Ben, who was a dapper thirty-three-year-old with thinning blonde hair. Ben clutched a camera in his hand.
“Mom, I’m happy for you,” I said, repeating a response I’d said so many times before. I hated being famous and having to smile and pose for the paparazzi, not to mention being an accomplice to their cheesy fake stories. Sometimes I wished I could trade places with a regular person, but then I remembered that I should be grateful for what I had.
“Smile, Abby,” Ben said as he snapped a picture of my mother and me. “You look beautiful,” he added, and my smile disappeared.
The camera’s flash reflected on the chandelier hanging between the double staircase, reminding me of all the cameras that were probably about to invade my space.
“Stop saying that, Ben,” my mother teased. “Abby still thinks she’s ugly.”
“Abby, you know beautiful doesn’t just mean having good looks,” he said. “You’re brilliant and caring. And that makes you beautiful.”
“I have the media talking about everything I do all the time. At school, it’s like I’m parting the Red Sea when I walk down the hall, and kids keep showing me magazines and asking for beauty tips.” I hated being a part of the chaos, but my mother and Ben just laughed.
“They do that because you inspire them,” my mother said, just like she always did when the topic snaked its way into our conversations. Couldn’t someone else inspire them? Why me?
I wasn’t surprised my mother said this, even at the age of forty-two she looked like she was thirty. She had dark, wavy hair that cascaded down her shoulders and golden brown eyes like mine. She’d always been the cool, beautiful mother. She graced the covers of a lot of magazines. I’d lost count long ago of how many times she’d been named the most beautiful or one of the most beautiful women alive. Each year her name was at least mentioned in that category.
“I just want to come home and be Abigail, not a beauty queen…just me.”
“So innocent, so adorable.” My mother posed for one last picture with me.
I wasn’t innocent or adorable. As a matter of fact, I was sometimes the opposite of the loving, caring, role model Abigail that everyone knew. The public loved me because I was charitable. My fans loved me because of my mother—it didn’t hurt that I’d inherited her sense of style and her friendly nature. My family and friends loved me because I was Abigail.
And by my friends’ and family’s definitions, Abigail meant a clumsy, loving, caring, awkward, and selfless young lady who would do anything for those she loves. Yes, that was the Abigail everyone knew. However, there was another Abigail, too—one who liked the rush of danger and playing with guns. I didn’t quite understand her because she was nothing like the Abigail that everyone loved. That other, secret Abigail was lethal.
Jump—don’t jump—jump—don’t jump—jump—don’t—
“Abigail!” my best friend Sarah shouted my name, jerking me back from my reverie.
Damn, I should have jumped.
I looked around, only to realize I was in a restroom. I could hear music booming in the background. I knew I was at the party, I just didn’t remember how I arrived.
“You weren’t planning on sneaking out through the window, were you?” Sarah walked toward me.
“Do you have a ladder?”
Although my friends and I were close, they didn’t know about my training. To them I was the luckiest girl alive. I had a mother who loved me, and we were rich as well.
I didn’t tell them about our past; after all, what was I supposed to say? “Hey, by the way, my father isn’t dead, he’s not allowed to see me because he’s a secret agent, and he has to stay away from my mother and me because his presence would put us in danger.”
Yeah, I was pretty sure that conversation would be a shock. So, I did the only thing I could—kept half of my life hidden.
“If you make me miss this party, I’m going to kill you.” Sarah frowned, snatching my lipstick and bag away from me. For the first time, I noticed her beautiful, gold, strapless, satin Cells dress. Sarah looked gorgeous as always with her hair fanning out around her shoulders. I’ve always admired her beauty, her big brown eyes, and her flawless dark skin. Black was indeed beautiful.
“You can go have fun, and I’ll join later.”
My lie did not convince her. “Abby, let’s go,” Sarah ordered, clutching my hand and pulling me along.
Sarah managed to get me out of the restroom despite me dragging my feet. When we came out, I remembered why I ran away. The music was too loud. The place was filled with noise, the press, cameras, and guys who only wanted to date me because I was famous.
I didn’t want to be there because of the press. Sarah didn’t let go of my hand until we reached my two other best friends, Jake and Danny, two funny seventeen-year-olds whom I loved having in my life.
Jake was a charming skater boy and the kind of person who’d been to detention more times than I could count. Danny was handsome and brilliant, and he mostly had a calm nature. Sarah was the cheer captain—understanding, loving, and beautiful. Me? I was just the rich, famous kid.
When I saw that Jake was dressed like a descendant of Shakespeare, I forgot my escape plans. What was he thinking?
Danny teased. “Dude, Shakespeare called, and he wants his outfit back!” We broke into loud laughter. When the laughter faded, a cameraman snapped my picture, and I again remembered why I didn’t want to be there.
“You’re thinking about going home, aren’t you?” Sarah knew me all too well. “Why?” They stared, waiting for an answer. “Why?” Sarah demanded again. “Every guy here wants to dance with you.”
“I don’t care if every guy here wants to dance with me. I just want to go home.” This wasn’t a lie. I’d rather be at home watching Discovery Channel. “Besides, guys just want one thing.”
“And what is that?” a voice from behind me asked. “Excuse me.” The voice that spoke sounded sweet, like a heavenly symphony, and even though the place was packed with noises, I didn’t hear anything except him. “Hello,” he said, and since I was sure I couldn’t avoid responding, I slowly turned.
My eyes went straight to the stranger’s big, black, army boots, then up to his rough-cut jeans, then to his ebony shirt and black leather jacket. Finally, my eyes reached his face. I couldn’t breathe when I saw him. Everything about his chiseled features spoke of danger, even his messy, dark hair. I unabashedly stared.
He was unusual, reminding me of a painting of an angel. So beautiful, yet every bone in my body told me to run away from him. I didn’t know why, and I didn’t want to find out. I sensed raw danger.
Beware of the angels you invite in, for some are only demons in disguise, I thought. I pushed the warning aside.
“I didn’t mean to disturb you.” His voice enchanted me. “My car just broke down, and I was wondering if I could get directions to the nearest bus stop.” I could see his perfect lips moving, the colored lights glinting off his dark hair, but I didn’t hear anything else he said.
Bus stop? How did he get inside the party? There was a guest list, I had helped my mother with it, and this stranger wasn’t on the list, was he?
He stared at us, waiting for someone to answer, but we all stared silently back at him. He cleared his throat. “I hope I’m not crashing your party.”
“Of course not. Besides, a party isn’t a party until someone crashes it,” Danny finally answered, and as he pushed me aside, I came back to life.
“Can you show me where I can find a bus stop?”
“Of course we can,” Jake said, taking over. “Abby is about to go home, and she can drop you off at the bus stop. She drives right past it,” he added with a big smile on his face, as if he had just done me a huge favor. I knew he only offered because he knew my bodyguards would be there. He would never have allowed me to give a stranger a ride. The stranger turned and looked at me, and then I did the worst possible thing I could think of, I smiled at him and blushed.
I’m escorting the most drop-dead gorgeous guy I’d ever met to the bus stop? Maybe he’d ask me for my number. Wow, I scared myself with that thought. I was usually not the girly type. I’d never had a boyfriend, and I’d like to think it was because I didn’t have any privacy. I’d never even kissed a guy before.
“That’s nice of you. I’m Gideon,” he introduced himself.
I didn’t remember any Gideon on the guest list. Looking at him, I knew he probably bribed the guards at the front door. My behavior disturbed me. A lot of hot guys had asked me out on dates before, and yet here I was, speechless, because of some stranger.
“The...me...car is…ready out,” I babbled.
He grinned. I didn’t even know what I was talking about. No one did.
“Sorry, I meant, the limo is…outside,” I corrected, shamefaced.
More awkward and embarrassing moments followed. He asked why I had a limo, and Jake took it upon himself to tell him that I was the daughter of a famous designer and then proceeded to ask if he’d been living under a rock. Sarah, who stole a moment with me before I left with the stranger, told me how hot Gideon was and how I was to make sure he asked for my number. I understood that this was her way of telling me I needed a boyfriend.
With the thought of giving a stranger a ride, warning alarms went off in my head. After I said goodbye to my mother, who tried to get me to stay without succeeding, I returned to Gideon.
“I’m ready,” I told him.
We left the party, and I led him to my limo. I asked Ben to drive him to the nearest bus stop. We climbed inside the back and Ben pulled away from the curb. Silence filled the limo. I felt the staring eyes of the stranger beside me. When I turned and looked at him, he smiled.
Surprisingly, I found myself asking, “What?” Then I quickly looked away.
“My question—you never answered me.” He reached out and closed the privacy screen in the limo, separating Ben from us. My heart jumped even faster, unsure of what Gideon was doing. Could this be one of those nights when I would wake up the next morning and ask, “Damn, did I do that?”
“What,” I swallowed breathlessly, “question?” He looked as if he didn’t know he was charming.
“You said guys only wanted one thing,” he said.
Then suddenly he had my hands in his. My heart pounded. What was he doing?
“What do all guys want?” He was defiant now.
It was my turn to talk. “They…I mean, they only want…” I turned away from him and took a few deep breaths. “They want to…fool around…I mean have…fun?” I ended with a question and pulled my hands away.
Really, Abby? Why not spell it out?
I could shoot a can off the top of Logan’s head without blinking, and I was speechless because of a guy? This must be what happens when you trade dolls for guns, I thought.
“Fool around?” He laughed.
I couldn’t explain how wonderful his laughter sounded, but I felt like moving toward him, getting closer to him.
“Are you for real?” Gideon laughed again.
Please, God, let us reach the bus stop before I collapse out of shame, I prayed.
“I didn’t mean…” I took another breath. “I guess it’s…you know…” I looked away without continuing. Honestly, even I didn’t know what I wanted to say.
“Is there something on my face you don’t want to see?” he asked.
I had been avoiding his gaze because I was trying not to freak him out by staring like a creep.
“No human does that around me. But you’re quite different.” He sounded disappointed. “So, you were saying?”
“Boys…they want…fun?” And wait, no human does that around him? My mind flashed another warning.
“I thought boys liked to eat.”
“Eat?” I laughed unexpectedly. “What are you talking about?”
“I killed your driver.”
He killed my driver? What was wrong with his guy? We were almost at the bus stop, and I totally didn’t get his humor.
“Excuse me?” I asked, suddenly feeling uneasy. Why was he ruining the mood with this crazy talk?
“I said I killed your driver.” His voice sounded indifferent, and he looked at his fingers rather than at me.
So much for wanting him to ask for my number.
“What? You killed my driver? You’re funny.” I leaned away from him to tell Ben to remember to turn because we were nearly at the bus stop. I pushed the automatic button that lowered the glass between us, and then I screamed.
As soon as the glass lowered, I saw Ben’s head fall onto the steering wheel, yet the car continued to drive on its own. The horn blared as Ben’s head smashed into it. The car raced past the bus stop. My heart nearly burst out of my chest. This time when I turned to look at Gideon, it wasn’t passion that I felt. It was stark fear.
I struggled to speak. “What have you done? Who are you?”
Immediately, his lovely green eyes darkened. And then he reached out for me.
I screamed for help, but there was no one around to hear.