Feather Bound (18 page)

“Fine, I guess.” Actually, I wasn't sure. Hyde had barely been paying attention when we'd gone out, half-nodding and half-smiling at everything I said. At first, I'd just shrugged it off as “‘that thing some guys do sometimes”; that is, until I'd noticed he'd been checking his phone for messages as frequently as a text-obsessed school-girl.

“Oh sorry,” he'd said when I'd asked what was up. “It's just...” He'd looked around conspiratorially. “I have my legal counsel, Roan, and some private detectives working on something for me. Something important.”

“Something came in the mail for you, by the way,” Ade said, snapping me back to reality. “Hyde sent it. Whatever he's doing, it's obviously not bad enough to keep him from showering you with expensive shit – or is that just a commonly accepted custom among the elite? ‘Oh I treated you like crap, here's your diamond ring, see you next week when you catch me with my secretary.'”

“Go ask Ericka.” I left my room and walked into the living room.

There were four thin boxes, each eggshell white, stacked on top of each other on the coffee table. I lifted the lid off one, its textured surface a little rough against my fingers. My heart gave a nervous tremor. It was the golden masks I'd asked Hyde to get me, lying that I needed a few to choose from, not really caring that it made me look like a spoiled faux-cialite. I checked my phone – yes, the mask was the same as the one in the text. Perfect.

I walked into the closet and dug out an old schoolbag of mine I hadn't used in about three years. Then I dumped all three masks inside.

Ade blinked. “Um–”

“Sorry, I'm kind of busy; can we talk later?” I rushed her out of the room and closed the door in her face – gently so I'd come off as less bitchy, if that was even possible. Then I grabbed the lid off one of the white boxes on the table. The name and number of the store was there in beautiful gold, embroidered into the lid.

“Going out,” I told Ade on my way to the front door. “I'll see you in a bit.”

I walked a few blocks until I found a payphone. I didn't want the call traced back to me.

“Thank you for calling Moretta, how may I help you?” said a woman after I dialed the number on the boxes. She sounded pretty young. Hopefully she'd be easy to swindle.

“Hello, I have a problem.” I forced my voice into a ditzy, breathy pitch that made me sound, somehow, like a twelve year-old from the Valley. I'd deal with the embarrassment later.

“OK, how may I help you?”

“A delivery was supposed to come for me and my friends last week. Three golden lace masks. Venetian. Paid for by Anton Rey?” This was risky. “Is there any legitimate reason why you people haven't sent it yet like you were supposed to?” I figured a pinch of entitlement would help me sell it.

“A delivery?”

“Yes, last week.
God
. Are you people completely incompetent? I have a ball to go to. What do you think is going to happen if I show up without a mask? Do you have any idea how embarrassing that'll be? Or is assisting with social suicide a part of your services?”

“I could… check for you, miss. But I'm pretty sure we delivered all our orders.”

“Except I
don't have it
! And this party is
tonight
. I mean, did you even get the address right? What address did you send it to?”

“An order by Anton Rey?”

A moment of silence and the clicking of keys. “We sent the order to 315 West Broadway last Wednesday. Room number 541. Isn't that right?”

I wrote the address down in the little notebook in my jeans pocket.

“Hmm… OK, wait, let me check again.” I counted to thirty in my head. “Oh wait, is it this white box thingy here? Oh my God, what? Oops!” I laughed. “Oh my God, I'm such an idiot. It was buried under the mail. I'm sorry. Forget I called.”

After I hung up, I used my cell phone to call Shannon. “315 West Broadway last Wednesday. Room number 541.”

“Ooh, good work.”

“Remember – they're tall, blonde–”

“–Russian models, if memory serves from the last ten times you reminded me. Don't worry; I'll get back to you in a bit.”

The bounce in her voice made me wonder, briefly, if she was enjoying this. Good for her. It was all
I
could do to keep from fainting onto the sidewalk.

I waited. It was all very simple, really. Shannon's friend, Mick, would “accidentally” deliver a pizza to the “wrong address”. Of course, this whole plan only worked under the assumption that Anton really would be having his models picked up at their apartment.

“Good news: they're there getting ready, apparently – and not at all interested in melted cheese.”

I nodded. “Good, good.” I nodded again, running a hand through my hair, my heart pounding. “This is good. Wait a second.”

I dialed Hyde as I continued down the sidewalk.

“Deanna? Anything wrong?”

“No, nothing, it's just…” Yet again with the honest concern. My stomach squirmed at the thought of feeding Hyde more lies, but I gritted my teeth and reminded myself that it was for the greater good. “You're… sending a car, right?”

A pause. “What, you thought I'd make you bike across the bridge? I asked you to be my date, the least I can do is give you a ride.”

I could hear the smile in his voice. Kind of made it harder. “Actually, about that… I kind of need a big favor.”

“Favor?”

I sighed. “Well… Ade kind of did something to piss me off a while ago.” Not only entirely untrue, but not entirely fair either. “So I stopped talking to her and then she stopped talking to me because I stopped talking to her first. I've been feeling pretty bad about the whole thing.”

“So just apologize.”

“It doesn't seem like enough, though. I really want to make it up to her. Ade acts like she doesn't care, but she really does enjoy the high life whenever she can charm her way into it. Dresses, parties–”

“You want to get her an invite to the masquerade ball?”

“No!” I said a little too quickly. “Um, no, she and her friends have this… thing at a night club in Jersey.”

“Jersey?”

I bit my lip. “Well, yeah. It's this really hot, fancy party apparently.”

“In
Jersey
?”

“Or something.” I probably should have thought through my excuse a little bit more before trying it out on Hyde, but I had to send Anton's girls far enough away without it legally being kidnapping. I figured stranding them in Jersey would get the job done. To a high end Russian model living it up in Soho, it might as well have been Mogadishu. “Anyway, I thought she'd love nothing more than to show up and show off in style, you know, so… do you think you can get your driver to pick her and her friends up instead? She's staying at her friend's for the weekend.”

It took Hyde what felt like a minute to respond.

“So…to make up with your sister, who you've been ignoring for unknown reasons, you want me to send the stretch limo meant for you to her instead so that it can take her to some sort of hoedown in New Jersey?”

A pause. “A trendy hoedown?”

Hyde couldn't stop laughing.

“I mean it! Hyde, I know it sounds stupid, but I really, really–”

“What's the address she's staying at?”

Oh, come on now. “Just like that?”

“To be honest, I'm pretty embarrassed myself. And yet: what's the address?”

So it really was possible to melt and be guilt-ridden at the same time. “Um…” I gave him both addresses: the one in Soho, as well as the one I'd written down yesterday when looking up Jersey clubs online. I'd picked the club where that one reality TV star got drunk and punched out the camera man before trying to make out with him on the floor. If Anton were planning on getting there just before midnight…

“Could you pick them up at eleven? And um, I don't know where they'll end up after said hoedown, but could you maybe have your driver drop them off at a hotel down there when they're done? I mean I don't want them to get picked up by anyone else.” I shuddered at the thought. I didn't want them hurt, after all, just out of the way. Not that I assumed that they were completely incapable of taking care of themselves, but still, I had to cover all my bases.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Thanks, Hyde.” With a sigh, I added, “I'm really, really sorry about this.” I was. All this manipulation to prove that Anton couldn't manipulate me.
The greater good, Deanna.

“It's all right. And since I know you're definitely not planning on biking over the bridge in a couture dress, what time can I pick you up?”

“Uh…” I fidgeted. “It's OK. You don't need to come all the way here. I'll take a taxi.”

“A taxi? Why?”

Because I'm tired of taking advantage of you. “Because there's something I need to do at home first, so I won't get there until much later,” I said instead. “Really, it's OK. Don't worry about me.”

“How can I not?”

Stop that
, I demanded, not knowing whether it was him or me I was begging. Squashing the butterflies in my chest, I smiled. “Really, don't worry. So… I guess I'll see you at the party. I'll be the one in black ruffles.”

“Try and find me.”

Hyde hung up.

A deep, calming breath wasn't quite enough to help me ignore the awkward-making tingling feeling rushing down my stomach. Still, I called Shannon anyway. “OK, confirmed. I'm bringing the package.”

“Nice. Hey, see how fun this is?”

I rolled my eyes. She reminded me way too much of Ade.

A short trip later and I was knocking at her apartment. All the money I'd been spending on transportation the last couple of weeks was drying out my wallet. I made a mental note to sign up for extra hours of canned-food hell at the grocery store once this whole fiasco was over.

Shannon had her hair dyed a light pale blonde. She had two friends with her. They waved at me, their makeup half-done. Tall, skinny and blonde. All they'd need is the right dress and a lack of shame to fool Anton.

“This is the right shade, right?” Shannon ruffled her hair.

“Yeah, I think so. Anyway, I doubted Anton would notice or care. They're in here.” I shoved the bag into her hands. “Remember, Anton's limo is probably going to be at the models' apartment a little before midnight, so you guys should get there by maybe half-past eleven.”

“We know, we know.”

“And whatever you do, don't say a word until you're at the party. And don't take off your masks… whatever you do has to be with the masks on. If they come off, Anton might wonder why you're wearing the same one he bought for his models.”

“Well, obviously,” said one friend, putting on some lipstick.

“I don't know what he'll do to me if he finds out I helped you get them.” Another lie. I knew perfectly well what he'd do. “He can be really… vicious.”

Shannon ran a brush through her hair. “We won't sell you out, if that's what you're worried about.”

“You remember what Anton looks like, right?”

Shannon laughed. “Yes, I still have the pictures I found online. It's all
good
, Deanna,
damn
.”

“She's so thorough,” said the girl in the bathroom. She winked. I couldn't tell if they were making fun of me.

“OK, OK,” I said. “Just make sure–”

“Yes, don't worry. We know what the plan is,” Shannon said, rummaging through the backpack and pulling out a mask. She strapped the golden-laced mask over her face. “You've done more than enough. We've got this. You just worry about your end.”

She was right. All the pieces were in place. The only thing left was to get dressed and call a taxi. With a shaky hand on my forehead, I exhaled and nodded.

“Right. See you there.”

 

There was not enough makeup in the world to hide the lines under my eyes. I looked exhausted. And scared. It meshed with the eye shadow.

Through the mirror, I stared at the black couture dress clinging to my body. I counted each of the ruffles flowing down my legs in tumbles of fabric, ruffles that for one moment reminded me of rotted feathers. I imagined my own feathers, black and rotted beneath my skin, and shook my head.

The last eggshell-white Moretta box lay open on my desk. Inside was a black-rimmed half-mask, decorated with silver macramé and studded with crystals. It was the single most beautiful thing I'd ever owned: the military badge of a society girl with few cares and endless time. I put it on, tying the ribbons at the back, pinning my black curls down. Then, once again, I peered into the mirror.

An imposter. I saw the lies fastened to my face and shuddered, truly, from the core.

Quietly, I slipped the mask off and rummaged through my drawer.
Found it.
It didn't have its own case, but there was no way I'd ever lose it. Mom's bracelet. A simple bronze chain. Ever since I'd first felt the brush of feathers against my back, I'd been trying to hold on to the girl I used to be. I clasped it around my wrist. It didn't help.

Just this one night, I told myself as I walked out of my room. Survive this one night and then you can think of a way to survive the rest. Then you'll be you again. Free.