Perfect Gravity (Wanted and Wired #2)(63)
“That’s kind of a problem, too. I’m not sure yet.”
This was where listening without interrupting could get a body in trouble, but Kellen kept his cool. Even though inside, he was screaming. Whoa, now. You come back, publicly, you’ll go back to that life. Away from me. Ghost out. Fuck. How did I let you do this to me again?
“Okay, no rush,” Fez rolled on. “Can I at least know what you’ve been up to for the last eight weeks, ever since you floated that pink gown at La Mars Madrid’s gala? The print pattern for that dress is selling like penny chems at a dance party, by the way.”
“I’ve been grieving-not-grieving, but Kellen makes all the sads go away,” she said. “You could imply that he saved me from the ruin of the Hotel Riu. Very dramatic. He’s selfless and heroic like that. Rescues baby goats, for fuck’s sake.”
Fez rubbed his pudgy hands together. “I am so in love with this narrative! It’s going to play huge. Now, when last we spoke, you were talking up the evils of Texas, specifically that vomit bag Vallejo. Do we want to say he’s responsible for Daniel’s murder?”
The question hung on the air for a long moment. Too long. Yes. Tell him yes. Weren’t they on their way right at this minute to shovel some good old-fashioned justice onto Damon Vallejo’s head? Why deny it?
Was this another surprise she was waiting for the last second to spring on him?
Angela’s solemn face had gone one notch solemner. “Give me a week on that, okay? Just tease the resurrection for now. Atheist-girl-Jesus: kind of guaranteed to rile people.”
“You got it. Oh! And one thing: did you want me to set up a confessional with Rafa, or…?”
“Already on it.”
“Oh, magnificent girl.” Fez pressed two hands over the place most folks thought their hearts were located. “I have missed working with you. A paltry few people in this biz know how all the pieces fit together, you know? So despite the unfortunate thing you have done to your hair—though I still believe we can soar with this new look, maybe a mix of serious and valiant?—anyway, I just want to say I’m glad you’re back in the game.”
Something stark passed over her face. Real quick, too quick for Fez to have seen. But Kellen did. It mirrored a dark fury inside his own soul. He couldn’t address this bullshit with her right now, not with a professional gossip standing right there and gazing at her like she was made of dark chocolate and rubies.
Both their coms vibrated at the same time, and Fez was too savvy not to notice. He gave them the one-eyebrow well-what treatment, despite the fact that this shit was private.
Angela pushed back her sleeve to read the message, in text form, spooling along the smartskin patch on her forearm. Kellen followed her gaze to where their hands were still conjoined and read her message upside down.
It was short, from Garrett, of all people: Defenses here are holding. God save the queen. The data hole over Enchanted Rock moved. How d’you feel about the beach?
? ? ?
All the stress and the terror notwithstanding, this was Angela’s favorite part of any plan. Setting up the scenario, placing each block. Careful balance, steady. And then, when the precarious structure was perfect, she would storm in like a toddler with a constructo set and smash the shit out of her design.
Okay, so Fez was on board. One bullet point checked. Her personal design was coming together.
Fez was one of her favorite hooks into the social media universe. She’d met him early on in her marriage to Daniel. At the time, he’d been purely fan sites and celeb gossip, but he’d expanded his reach over the years, as had she. They’d sort of grown up together, professionally. She wasn’t about to trust anyone completely, not after the last several months, but she couldn’t remember being in close quarters with two people she sort of trusted as much as Kellen and Fez. For a bright moment there, she had felt…comfortable. Home.
Dangerous feeling, that. But also impossibly sweet.
After equipping for their journey into the vasty black of Texas, specifically now to the ocean edge of the state, she and Kellen climbed back into the dragon car, spun up the reactor, and laid rubber out of Las Cruces. The northern and eastern borders of the conflict zone were loosely secured, easily bribed through, but here in the west, this close to the capital, the UNAN security took shit seriously. Angela had thought ahead, though.
Her official identity as a continental senator was toast due to her recent tragic death, but what idiot only had one ID? Not this gal. That had been her second bullet point, even though technically, it overlapped with the first.
Just as senators and diplomatic envoys and superstar celebrities had an alternate gate for most sec checks, so did registered journalists. A group to which she now belonged, thanks to Fez. Her GNN credentials, and matching ones for Kellen, would show up on any data scan and would pass the sniff test if border agents checked in at the GNN databases. Best of all, because their car was a mobile news unit, they could broadcast the clearance and wouldn’t even be subjected to faceprint scanners.
Hugging Fez didn’t begin to repay what he’d just done for her.
She slid into the car with energy crackling just below the surface of her skin, about to explode with the need to share these supercool gizmo gadget details with Kellen. All those spy scenarios they used to concoct when they were kids had nothing on what she’d just pulled off or was about to pull off. She was the Jackal, 007, and Mata Hari all rolled into one. I am the fire. Fuck yeah.