Chapter Six
Taylor comes for lunch the next day, accosting me as I enter the parlor, her brows are raised with practiced concern and morbid curiosity. The bruise on my cheek doesn’t help matters, though the staff has already been informed it was part of my rooftop attack. Only Maria knows the truth—and Gus, but he never gives anything away.
“Are you all right?” Taylor asks, managing to hug me while barely touching me. “Gawd, I heard about your close call last night and I just cannot believe the skuzzies out there who get their rocks off trying to hurt women. I mean, you could have been killed—or worse.” She stops, newly horrified as she realizes what her words imply. “I mean, they didn’t actually … touch you, did they?”
“No, they didn’t,” I say, thinking of Linc and the way he commanded the situation so effortlessly, so fearlessly. I remember his comment on the rooftop, how he is not afraid to die, and I know it is the truth.
I wonder what it would be like to have nothing left to live for—or what it is I think I have.
“… Bet Daniel will be livid when he finds out. Just beside himself with worry, I mean, the lowlifes thinking they can come into our part of town is downright degrading, even if they didn’t actually touch you.” She stops, cocks her head at me. “You did call him, right?”
“Who?”
“Daniel. Are you even listening to me?”
“I …”
“Just because you guys aren’t officially an item to the rest of the world, he would still want to know. I mean, three public appearances … that’s like practically engaged, which isn’t a big deal since that’s the plan. But at least tell him so he can stay ahead of the press.”
Engaged? It’s a surprise but after hearing this, Daniel being groomed to take over Rogen Corp makes sense. “You’re right, I should call him,” I say when I recover.
“Speaking of which, what’s up with your cell? I call and call and it goes straight to voice mail.”
I falter, unsure what to say. I hadn’t thought of it until now, but whatever phone Raven Rogen owned has not been given to me. I wonder who Titus thinks I would call. “My phone is … broken. I dropped it when I was attacked.”
“Ugh,” she says, as if that is the most annoying part of what happened to me.
“I’ll get a new one soon,” I say, trying to emulate her annoyance.
She nods once, and just like that, moves on. For the rest of the meal, she does not speak of my attack again. Even when I reach across the table for the salt shaker, revealing the purpling bruise on the inside of my forearm, a perfect match for a handprint, she doesn’t comment.
She speaks of parties and couples and scandals and affairs. Who’s dating whom. Who’s cheating, who’s broke, who’s running for office.
The politics in this world scare me. In Twig City, there are two classes: Imitations and Authentics. The latter rule the former. That will never change. Here, the rise and fall of power is based on fortunes and blackmail and scandals exposed. It is good that I will not be a part of it for long. I could never fit in here. I don’t want to.
Taylor leaves an hour later with promises that we will see each other soon at some benefit gala or another. A senator is getting re-elected. The fact that Taylor knows this without a doubt three days before the election is not lost on me. Everything is a game here.
I don’t feel like I play very well.
***
After lunch, I am confined to my room with a subtle click of the lock, but I don’t mind. Not this time. I am more comfortable alone than I am with a single Authentic I’ve met here. And part of me is terrified over seeing Titus if I’m allowed to wander. The makeup job covering the bruise he left on my cheek has worn off, so I touch it up with unsteady fingers as I stare at my reflection.
I am paler than usual, my skin tone almost matching my translucent hair. When I’ve covered the bruise as best I can, I attempt the same with the darkened circles under my lids. I’ve never had a problem sleeping before coming here, but I rarely sleep more than two hours at a time anymore. It’s too quiet. I miss the humming pipes, the melody of a room full of rhythmic breathing. Ida and Lonnie.
My chest aches when I think of them. I wonder if Lonnie is comforting Ida or if she’s taken her usual “stiff upper lip” stance and expected Ida to do the same. Fragile Ida. She is not cut out for this, despite what they tell us about our “chemical makeup” and our being “created to serve.” I am glad that it is me and not her who has been called up.
My thoughts wander to Linc. I haven’t seen him since this morning and I wonder if he is in trouble for killing that man before they could learn who he was. I think of the motorcycle ride home and my lips curve into a small smile that feels like a secret. My mood lifts.
I tinker with Authentic Raven’s stereo and switch it from the jazzy album she had playing to a moody rock sound. I am baffled by the radio and stand in awe of the talking voice coming though the speakers between songs. It sounds as if he’s talking in real time right beside me. Amazing.
Commercials are my favorite. The choices are endless. These people get to choose what food or clothing to buy. It shocks me how many different sorts of fabric there are for curtains alone. In Twig City, no one has curtains because no one has a window.
Out of boredom and then sheer delight, I spend an hour trying on the different clothes in the walk-in. And the shoes. My feet feel like princesses in the heels. As much as I dread more parties, I am willing to go if it means I can wear a pair of these shoes.
Gus comes to get me for dinner. He is his usual unsmiling self but there is something else. Caution. “Daniel Ryan is joining you for dinner. Dress accordingly and meet me in the dining hall in ten minutes. Don’t be late or I’ll have to come get you.”
The way he says it, menacing and certain, chills me. Despite the fact that he leaves the door unlocked, I know I won’t try anything.
I dress for dinner in a pants outfit that has a matching half-jacket and hope this is what Gus meant by “accordingly.” I have no idea what Daniel is like but if Taylor is any indication, he will notice something like a wrong outfit.
I make my way around the circular hallway, certain I’m being watched. I cannot see cameras but they are there. Titus is not so trusting that he would let me walk this far unescorted, especially after last night.
I see him as soon as I cross the threshold. Linc. Near the back of the room, hands clasped behind his back, head down as he concentrates on whatever Gus is whispering at him. He doesn’t see me, but I breathe all the way out in relief. My mind doesn’t register the twisted worry I’ve been carrying until it’s melting away at the sight of him.
Gus finishes what he’s saying and Linc straightens. He raises his chin and catches me watching. I feel my cheeks warm and I curse myself for it and look away—straight at Titus. He has risen from his seat at the head of the table to greet me. He stares at me with a hard set to his jaw and I know that I’ve made him angry with something as simple as failing to acknowledge him first. Behind his left shoulder is the boy who has come to see me.
“Good evening, Raven,” Daniel says. His expression is relaxed and easy but even from this distance, I can see how polished and manicured he is. From the perfect cut of his jacket to the precision of his mussed and gelled hair, I distrust him immediately.
“Good evening,” I reply, taking a tentative step into the room.
I look at Titus again, silently asking permission to approach. He sweeps his hand toward the seat on his right. “You look lovely, Raven. Come, sit with us.”
We take our seats and the meal is served. Daniel watches me curiously and I know that somehow, I’ve already done something wrong. Something Authentic Raven would not have. I think Linc is watching me too, and I have the urge to turn, but I don’t. Titus is close. I can feel my skin growing cold at his closeness.
“Your father told me there was another attack last night,” Daniel says when we have our soup. “I wish you would’ve called me. I worry.”
His voice is pleasant. Too pleasant considering the topic of conversation is my attempted murder.
“I didn’t think …,” I begin, unsure what else to say.
Titus pats my hand and I have to force myself not to recoil. “She really doesn’t think, Daniel.” He laughs and it’s harsh, unkind. “She’s too caught up in her own little world of clothes and shoes.”
He is baiting me, I think. Or testing me. I don’t respond.
Daniel laughs lightly, as if this is a familiar idea where I’m concerned. “This girl and her wardrobe,” he agrees.
The meal passes with small talk that I don’t quite understand. Daniel mentions “the business.” Titus replies it is booming and Daniel agrees. “Of course it is. The poor are growing more and more volatile. You’d think having nothing would crush their spirit, not the opposite.” Distaste coats his words.
“They’ll tire eventually,” Titus says. “In the meantime, our greatest defense is concealment of our … transitions.” He glances my way and then falls silent. They don’t want me to hear this.
Daniel seems to understand and they change the subject, discussing a party for a senator. They speculate about elections and polls and the hot topics being shouted from soapboxes. I catch the words “city segregation” and lose my appetite as I remember the stumbling man Linc and I narrowly avoided the other night.
Titus wants to ban people like that from this part of the city. I can’t help the small sliver of relief that brings—the prospect of not bearing witness to such wanting. But then I realize how completely opposite of compassionate that would be, and my appetite vanishes. I set my utensils aside and fold my hands in my lap. I will not eat. I will not be party to this conversation, even through acquiescence.
After dinner, Titus leaves us alone and Daniel and I go into the parlor. I am nervous. Not because of Daniel but because Linc shadows us. I want to speak to him, to find out where he’s been or if anything new has come to light about my attackers, but I know that would be a mistake.
I sit primly on the edge of a high-backed chair, but Daniel immediately waves me over to the small space left on the loveseat beside him. “What are you doing all the way over there, kitten? Your daddy won’t bother us for a while.” He says the words slowly, suggestively, and every nerve ending jumps as I settle next to him.
Invisible insects crawl over my skin as he slides his arm around me and pulls me close. He is smiling down at me, his lips twisted in a way that belies any warmth behind the gesture. “Come here.”
I swallow but it lodges in my throat and I can feel Linc watching us from near the doorway. I know then I cannot do this. I cannot be this version of Authentic Raven.
I shove Daniel away and straighten my back so that our bodies are no longer pressing together from hip to shoulder. “I’m not feeling very well,” I say.
He frowns but looks more angry than concerned. “What’s the problem?”
I rack my brain for a good-enough reason to bolt from the room. When I don’t answer, he says, “You’re not still thinking about that incident from last night, are you?” He leans closer and winds his arm around my shoulders again.
That incident. Someone tried to murder me, and Daniel has referred to it as that incident. My chest burns with indignation. My fingertips tingle with it. I jump to my feet and stare down at him, uncaring what the correct response is or if I am out of character.
“I think you should go now.”
He stands too and smiles slyly. “I love it when you make me work for it, Rav,” he says. His voice is rough with desire. Before I can react, he grabs and yanks me against him. His mouth is hovering over mine and I know what he intends to do. I refuse to let him.
The anger is hot, spilling out. I shove him. “Get away from me,” I hiss. From the corner of my eye, I see Linc take a step toward us. Daniel doesn’t notice. He’s too busy accepting my rejection—something he’s probably never experienced, judging by the expression on his face.
“Seriously?” Daniel gapes at me. “Is it your time of the month or something?”
I concentrate on breathing in and out slowly because this stupid boy is not worth blowing my cover. He is not worth dying over.
I speak through clenched teeth. “I will not ask you again.”
Before Daniel can respond, I hear Linc say, “The lady asked you to leave. I think it’s best if you comply.”
Daniel whips his head around. For the first time, he seems to notice how Linc has positioned himself. His shoulders stiffen. “Are you threatening me, GI Joe? Because that wouldn’t be very smart.”
“I’m simply reiterating the lady’s request.” Linc’s tone is even, giving nothing away, but I see his fingers curl slightly inward.
Linc and Daniel regard one another. The air is heavy with tension. Finally, Daniel blinks and mutters under his breath. I catch the words “replaced” and “early” before he grabs his jacket off the arm of the sofa and stomps out.
I don’t move until I hear the outer door—the one that will take him to the elevator—opening and closing behind him.
When I move to leave, Linc steps into my path, blocking me. I don’t want to look at him. If I see pity in his expression, I think I’ll lose it. All of the layers I’ve stacked so carefully between me and the rest of the world feel cracked and broken. My wall is close to crumbling in this moment and I refuse to let him see that. To let Titus hear about it. He is not worth dying over, either.
“Are you all right?”
It is anger I hear in his voice, not concern, and that intrigues me. I raise my face to his. There is more anger there. And something else, but it is not pity or suspicion as I feared. I exhale.
“I’ll be fine,” I manage.
“Are you sure? Because you’ve never—” He breaks off, his expression clouding.
“I’ve never what?”
He is silent and unwilling to look at me. Suddenly, I need to know what it is Authentic Raven has never done. And why he’s noticed.
“You’ve never turned down a boy,” he says quietly.
My cheeks heat but this time it is not from anger. “Oh.” My face burns with an emotion that feels foreign. I sidestep him and make for my bedroom. By the time I’m inside, I realize what it is that made me flee from his words. It is shame.
I am ashamed for something I’ve never done.