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  Hisoka moved behind me. “Wow! This can’t be your first.”

  “It’s not.” I said. “I took a techniques class at the Art Institute, but this is the first time I’m not recreating someone else’s work.”

  “It’s amazing. You’re a natural.” He smiled and put a hand on my shoulder. “Who are the people in the trees? What do they represent?”

  “I don’t know.” I lied. “I think the one in the middle is me.”

  They were us: me, Keira and Scott, but I couldn’t tell Hisoka about them without revealing a whole lot more.

  “What about him?” He pointed to a figure on the right. A man lurked in the shadows, facing the trees.

  “Oh, that’s you.” I lied again. I couldn’t explain, not even to myself, why Brody had appeared in my vision.

  “Maybe that’s something we can work on next time,” Hisoka said. “I’d be happy to pose for you.”

  “Um, okay.”

  “Let’s get some paint.”

  Suddenly, I blurted out, “I’ve been invited to the Redemption for Orphans benefit tomorrow night, but I don’t have a date.”

  Hisoka took both my hands in his and looked into my eyes. “Miss LaFleur, I would be honored if you would be so kind as to attend the benefit with me.”

  I smiled, then retrieved the invitation from my handbag. On the back, I printed my address.

  ***

  The Davis Salon. I gulped in a breath of air and hung back. Keira took the lead.

  Anybody who was anybody in Tkaron had their hair done here. Some Elite even made a point of coming in from other cities, just for the Davis.

  As we neared the door, a young woman hurried past in the opposite direction. She smiled sadly. “They’re booked for today. I hope you have an appointment.”

  Keira stopped and spun around. The girl walked toward a white limousine.

  I gripped my sister’s arm. “Do you know who that is?”

  She nodded. “If she couldn’t get in, we don’t stand a chance.”

  We returned to the car. I climbed in next to Keira and said, “Maybe we’ll have to do our own hair.”

  “My thoughts exactly! Why pay someone else to…”

  “No.”

  We both looked at Eberhardt.

  “No?” Keira asked.

  “No. Guy said to bring you here. Make it work.”

  Keira shook her head in frustration and rubbed her eyes with her palms.

  She sighed. “Okay, I’ve got an idea.”

  She dug in her purse and pulled out her transceiver. “Would you connect me to the Everyday Elite hotline please? Thank you.” She paused. Then in a highly excited tone she said, “I just saw Kendra James near the Davis Salon! Is something happening tonight?”

  She disconnected and pouted. “They wouldn’t tell me.” Then her demeanor changed completely, and she smiled at me. “Get ready to be on stage. Eberhardt, we’ll see you back here in an hour or so.”

  He nodded and smiled in approval.

  Keira nudged me toward the door. “Let’s go for a walk around the block.”

  When we turned the corner, the scene had changed completely. News reporters held their positions but aimed vid’recorders at us. Questions were called out. We didn’t answer.

  A smiling woman waved us over to the front door and ushered us inside.

  Keira was offered the full treatment. After she threatened to go elsewhere if they couldn’t make time for both of us, so was I. Only one reporter from Everyday Elite and his assistant were allowed to follow us into the back room for our consultation.

  The smiling woman guided us toward some comfortable chairs by the window and

  said, “I’m pleased to introduce you to Zuri and Calista.”

  Zuri was tall and lean, with a dark complexion and black dreadlocks. Calista, pale in comparison with short straight black hair, stood close by his side. Zuri looked first at Keira, then at me. He sat opposite us, crossed one leg over the other and rested his elbows on the armrests. Pressing his index fingers together in a thoughtful manner, he began our consultation.

  “Will you be attending the Redemption for Orphans benefit tonight?”

  “Yes, how did you know?” Keira asked.

  “That’s why 90% of our clients are here today. So tell us, what do your gowns look like?”

  Keira looked at me.

  “Do you have some paper and a pencil?” I asked.

  Zuri nodded at Calista. She went to a desk in the corner and quickly returned with a piece of paper on a clipboard and a sharpened pencil. As I began to sketch, Keira described the colors.

  Her strapless gown had a long flowing black satin skirt. Beneath the fitted bodice, a white background peeked through a black diamond pattern. Two white ribbon-like strips wrapped around her torso, one beneath her breast-line and the other at her waist.

  My dress included a dark brown background with emerald flowers embroidered over it. Keira thought it enhanced my eyes. Coming in from each side, two triangles arrived at a point. The forest green skirt was dark at the top and grew lighter at the bottom.

  When I finished, I handed the paper to Zuri. He carefully studied my drawings before looking at me with fresh appreciation. Then, he conferred with Calista for a few minutes and directed us to the next room.

  Zuri added white highlights to Keira’s short black hair. Then she received a trim. As a finishing touch, he used a beaded pearl band to draw her hair away from her face.

  While Zuri worked on Keira’s hair, Calista began on mine. She refreshed my golden blond highlights before expertly shaping it with a trim.

  Then, we each received a facial followed by a makeover. Zuri and Calista took care to show us the products they were using and how to apply them. The makeup would be sent with us so we could perform touch ups as needed throughout the evening.

  We ended with a pedicure/manicure. The reporter and his assistant moved away to pan across other famous faces. When they stepped aside, I noticed the young woman who sat next to Keira. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place her. Her long blond hair had been done up in an intricately woven pattern that must have taken an hour, at least. Long dark lashes accentuated her bright blue eyes.

  “Kendra James,” she said in a condescending tone.

  Keira shot her a sideways glance.

  “I’ve seen you on the news. Making quite a spectacle of yourself, aren’t you?” The woman studied the nails on her right hand while the beauty technician worked on her left.

  “You’re in the news quite a bit yourself, Adira,” Keira said.

  Adira Armstrong. That’s why I’d recognized her. She was the eldest of the Prime Minister’s daughters. Keira had always said something shady was going on with that family.

  Minister Armstrong had been in the ministry for over 20 years, far longer than anyone else.

  “Yes, well, I use publicity wisely.”

  I held my breath. Why is she picking a fight? Oh, Keira, please don’t react.

  “Why don’t you just say what you mean?”

  “Poor little orphan Kendra, trying to climb up the social ladder. And I assume you’re getting all dolled up for the RFO benefit tonight? That’s fitting.”

  I looked across the room. The man with the vid’recorder had just noticed that something interesting was happening. He tapped the reporter on the shoulder, and they began moving back in our direction. I reached out and put my hand on Keira’s forearm.

  Please don’t respond. She looked daggers at Adira but said nothing.

  Adira smiled sweetly. “By the way, you’re not his first, and you won’t be his last.”

  Her stylist stood. “You’re all finished, Miss Armstrong.” Apparently the staff didn’t want a fight either.

  Adira hopped down from her chair and headed to the front desk. As she walked away, she said, “Richard Burke was quite a treat. I may just go back for seconds.”

  I slid my hand down and gripped Keira’s. Her jaw was tense.


  “Don’t let her get to you,” I whispered. The man with the vid’recorder had arrived. He zoomed in on Keira’s face.

  Zuri winked at her, and she returned his friendly smile.

  At the front desk, Keira studied the bill and then looked at Zuri. “You’ve made a mistake. We owe you more than this.”

  “Artist’s special,” Zuri said. He smiled at me.

  ***

  Keira and I stood in front of the living room window. A crowd had already gathered below, most certainly due to Keira’s call to Everyday Elite earlier in the day. Shortly after 5:30, Hisoka arrived. He skirted the vid crews scattered below. They caught a few shots of him, but for the most part, they let him pass with no fuss. Not more than a minute later, Guy arrived in a white limo. That caused a flurry of commotion. I responded to the knock at the door while Keira watched Guy interact with the reporters below.

  “Aimee, you look…amazing! Instead of me posing for you, maybe you would pose for me?”

  Keira turned her head slightly, clearly holding back a grin.

  I blushed and said, “Come in.”

  Hisoka nodded at Keira and said, “Good evening.”

  She nodded too and turned back to the window. “Oh good, they let him through!” Keira hurried past us to the door. She flung it open before Guy had the chance to knock, glanced at Hisoka and me and reached for Guy’s hand. “We should go. Your mother will be waiting.”

  And just like that, they were gone. I looked at Hisoka. The apartment sounded eerily silent with just the two of us. Then the noise from the reporters picked up again. I went to the window but turned when Hisoka coughed quietly.

  “What is it?”

  “We shouldn’t be here, like this, alone in your apartment. It isn’t proper.”

  “What about painting alone in the back of an art gallery?”

  “That’s different. There are people out front. It’s a place of business, not your home.

  We don’t know each other well enough yet.”

  Yet. I turned to look out the window. “I just want to be sure they make it into the limo.

  Then we can go.”

  Despite his reluctance, Hisoka walked over and looked out the window too. “How well do you know her?”

  His question surprised me. “Very well. She’s like a sister.”

  “And you’ve known her for a long time?”

  “Years. Why do you ask?” I continued to watch Guy and Keira. It looked like they were taking questions.

  “She doesn’t act Elite, does she? It’s just… Sometimes people aren’t who you think they are, even those you think you know well.”

  “And?” I turned to look him in the eyes. Was he about to confide, to tell me he was a spy?

  “I don’t think you should trust her.”

  My eyebrows shot up. “She might say the same about you!”

  “Has she said anything about me?”

  “Should she have?”

  “No. She shouldn’t.”

  “Well good, because she hasn’t,” I lied. I glanced out the window. The white limo left.

  The reporters and vid crews began packing up. I sighed and looked down. “We should get going, unless you no longer want to.”

  I felt his fingers on the back of my hand. “Aimee, I only want what’s best for you.

  Please, be careful.”

  I turned my hand and closed my fingers gently around his.

  -Keira-

  Redemption for Orphans

  Hisoka Watanabe arrived first. He chose to go around, instead of through, the crowd of news reporters on the street below. I would have done the same except they were here for me.

  I was comfortable in the night, in the shadows, living on the fringe of society, not in the spotlight. How did Guy do this every day?

  Did Hisoka just ask Aimee to pose for him? I stole a glance over my shoulder and held back a grin. Mr. Quiet and Uncomfortable is coming out of his shell! Aimee looked pleased.

  Best to get out of here and give them some space.

  I looked out the window again. Guy was gone. I prepared for a hasty retreat.

  The sea of reporters seemed larger on the ground level than it had from upstairs.

  “Miss James, is this your debut into Tkaron society?” a reporter from Everyday Elite cried out.

  “Well, I don’t know about that,” Guy said smoothly. He casually threw an arm around my shoulders. “She recently attended the grand opening of Art Fantastique, and she’s already been featured on your show.”

  “And what a stunning featured guest you were, Miss James. Is it true that you…how shall I put this…you work at an art gallery?”

  “Well, I’m not Working Class, if that’s what you’re asking.” I felt sick at the sound of my words. However, I knew it had been the right thing to say when I heard chuckles in the background. “My roommate is the owner, and I’m volunteering my time, helping her out when I can.”

  “So it’s for a good cause?”

  I nodded.

  “Miss James,” called another reporter. “Is it true that your roommate, Miss Aimee LaFleur, chose to go to work? With Elite lineage, surely she had other options?”

  I couldn’t do this, not to Aimee and not to the millions of people just like me.

  “I have a question for all of you. If it was a man who owned Art Fantastique, would you still think of him as Working Class?”

  They all stopped and stared. I turned on my heels and hurried to the waiting limo. Guy opened the door for me.

  “Are you mad?” I asked as soon as we were alone.

  “No, I agree it needed to be said. I’m just not sure that tonight was the best time.”

  “And just when would be the appropriate time?”

  “It’s a taboo subject around here so there probably won’t ever be a right time.”

  “Exactly!”

  “But not when we’re so close,” he whispered.

  “Close,” I said, but hesitated when Guy nodded toward the driver. Even alone in the back of a limo, people were listening.

  “Are you and Adira Armstrong close?” I whispered.

  “The Armstrongs are old family friends.” Guy spoke carefully.

  “So you know her personally,” I pushed.

  “Yes, I do.” With a nod of his head, he again indicated the driver. Clearly, we couldn’t discuss Adira here.

  The limo driver joined the queue that led to the Grand Hotel. When we were directly in front of the main entrance, we exited and paused for photos. Vid crews linked to a wide variety of news shows lined up along the main entrance and recorded the procession of Elite filing into the building.

  “Mr. Burke, a comment for the viewers?”

  Guy gave a prepared statement about the importance of supporting children who’d been devastated by the loss of their parents. He concluded with, “Burke Investments will be donating a sizable sum to the RFO.”

  Then they turned to me. “Miss James, you’ve suffered the loss of your parents, albeit as an adult. Is that why you’re here tonight, or is there another reason?” The reporter looked meaningfully at Guy.

  “I’m here to support orphans, especially those in the orphanages who have no extended family support.” I looked around. The room had become eerily silent. Guy smiled and took my hand. I lifted my chin and held my head high as we entered the ballroom. It was not yet crowded so I found an empty table in the corner and sat down.

  Guy sat next to me and turned his chair so we faced each other.

  “What just happened?” I asked.

  “Perhaps a short history lesson?”

  I nodded.

  “Redemption for Orphans has been around for a very long time. They do things a certain way. Women on various committees think of ways to raise money to support Elite orphans.”

  “I know, but that doesn’t explain…”

  “You don’t understand. Most of their focus is spent on keeping Elite children out of the orphanages.”

  That
certainly explained their reaction. How could Guy expect me to associate with these people?

  He must have noticed the turmoil in my eyes because he took my hands in his and commanded my attention. “Let me do most of the talking tonight. Just listen and follow my lead. And, about that other thing, we’ll talk more later.”

  “Talk about what?” A shadow fell upon us. Adira smiled at me but spoke to Guy.

  “Richard, why don’t you introduce me to your friend?”

  I narrowed my eyes, then stood and walked away. Aimee found me studying the auction items a few minutes later.

  I looked around. “Where’s Hisoka?”

  She nodded in the direction of the buffet table. “Getting me a drink. Why are you over here alone? Where’s Guy?”

  “He’s talking to that bitch we met earlier today so I gave them some space.”

  “No.”

  “What?”

  “She’s dragging him onto the dance floor. Are women allowed to cut in? I’ll be happy to steal him back for you.”

  “It’s probably not appropriate.” I stressed the word “appropriate” and then sighed. “I’ll wait for him to make the next move. So, how are you and Hisoka getting along?”

  “Fine, only…” She looked in his direction.

  “Only what?”

  “He told me not to trust you, but I’m not sure I can trust him. He’s so proper about everything. What if I told him something about my past that he found, oh, I don’t know, uncomfortable?”

  “And you don’t want to put him in that position.”

  “Right.”

  “Aimee, you are simply too nice.”

  Hisoka had returned. “Too nice? She must be talking about you.” He handed Aimee a glass of wine.

  “Why is my son dancing with her?” I’d completely let down my guard. Now Beatrice stood next to us, watching the dancers. I was a little taken aback by the emotion in her voice.

  “He said they were old friends. You don’t approve?”

  “Old friends. Is that what he told you?” Icicles could have formed on her words. “He’s here with you, isn’t he?” She turned to look at me. “Miss James, my son isn’t exactly known for settling down, but it’s about time that he did.” She watched my expression carefully.