Weekend Warriors (Sisterhood #1)(64)
Without Nicole Quinn she didn’t know where she’d be. Nikki had gotten her a job as a personal shopper to some of Virginia’s older, wealthy residents. It was a far cry from being a high powered securities broker in her other life, that was for sure.
Today, in just minutes, she had to climb into her little Mini Cooper and head out to McLean, Virginia. There at Nicole’s adopted mother’s palatial estate, she would join the other members of the Sisterhood. She’d joined a year ago, again, with Nicole Quinn’s help. The Sisterhood wasn’t just any organization. Myra Rutledge had formed the organization after her daughter was run down and had been killed by a diplomat’s son. With the aid of Nikki’s legal expertise, Myra formed the Sisterhood to help women get the justice and the revenge they deserved even if it meant going outside the law to do so.
The Sisterhood consisted of six women, seven if you counted Myra, all recruited by Nikki. They’d gone on one mission so far and it had been successful. At the end of that successful mission, they’d drawn names to see whose case would be next. Alexis’s name — not her real name of course — had been drawn from the cardboard shoe box.
But she wasn’t ready yet to seek the justice she deserved. She needed more time to wallow in her misery and to build up her strength and resilience. She didn’t know why that was, it just was. She would have to tell the sisters they needed to choose someone else for the second mission. She knew in her gut she was still too fragile, too broken with her thirteen month stint in the federal pen. She tugged at her lavender dress, straightening it over her slim hips. The dress was one she’d chosen from her pitiful wardrobe and a knockoff to boot. It went well with her brown skin and dark hair. She’d chosen the dress because she thought she looked best in pastels. The days were long gone when she didn’t think twice about buying high-end designer clothes. Everything from her past was gone. Every damn thing she cared about. Even her dog.
Alexis started to shake when she tried to imagine what the other sisters would say when she told them she wasn’t ready for her mission. Kathryn, the most verbal and the toughest of them all, in her opinion, would narrow her eyes and tell her to grow up and get with the program. Isabelle, who saw things other people didn’t see, meaning of course that she was psychic, would shrug and close her eyes maybe in the hope of conjuring up the reason for Alexis’s pass on the mission. Julia, a retired plastic surgeon, who had contacted AIDS from her philandering senator husband, would stare at her as if she were a speck under a microscope. She’d say, “You need to make those bastards pay for what they did to you and get on with your life because you have a life to get on with.” Yoko would nod and say she understood, whether she did or not. Nikki would use logic to try to convince her to take the bull by the horns, and Myra, sweet, gentle woman that she was, would smile wanly and say, “Honey, if you aren’t ready then you aren’t ready and we’ll choose one of the other sisters.” At which point she’d feel like a fool and probably start to cry. The others would look at her with disgust and she’d cry harder. They might even become so disgusted with her they’d try to drum her out of the Sisterhood.
She’d done so well with Kathryn’s mission. It couldn’t have succeeded without her expertise. She could take nothing and transform it into something wonderful and exciting. She was a master with a makeup brush and she knew it. Costume design was something she loved doing. Nikki said she was a master at that, too. She’d been so proud when Nikki had said that. All the sisters had complimented her. So, what the hell was her problem?
Alexis eyed her suitcase by the front door, and then let her gaze go to what the sisters called her Red Bag of Tricks complete with everything she needed to alter a person’s being. Makeup, spirit gum, latex, costumes, wigs, glasses. She had the talent to take an ordinary person and transform them into a movie star. Where she’d come by this particular talent, she had no idea. Everything in the Red Bag had been updated or replenished by Myra.
Alexis looked at her watch. Time to get on the road. The Sisterhood’s hosts, Myra Rutledge and Charles Martin didn’t like to be kept waiting. She smiled when she thought of Charles, Myra’s right-hand man, and the one who planned each mission. Charles was an ex-British M16 operative who had once worked for the Queen on the other side of the pond until he’d been compromised. In the spook world, according to Charles, the bad guys had found out who he was and steps had to be taken to keep him safe. Now he worked for and lived with Myra. Charles always said being a superspy for Her Majesty had equipped him to head up the Sisterhood. On top of all his other accomplishments, Charles was a gourmet cook. Alexis felt her mouth start to water at some of the wonderful meals he’d cooked for all of them. Today, she hoped, would be something just as wonderful.
Suitcase in one hand, the Red Bag of Tricks in the other, Alexis still somehow managed to lock the flimsy door of her apartment. She didn’t look back because there was nothing to see except a bunch of shabby, secondhand furniture. She hadn’t felt the need to buy new furniture, preferring to bank all her money until she was sure where she was going with her life.
Alexis tossed her suitcase into the back of the Mini Cooper, then climbed behind the wheel. Before she turned the key in the ignition, Alexis looked around the ratty looking neighborhood and the building she lived in. They should just demolish the entire three blocks. Once she’d lived in a pretty little house with window boxes and flowers on her front porch. She had furniture that she’d saved for, beautiful linens, fine dishes and crystal. And she’d had a dog she’d loved dearly. It was all gone now, sold to pay her legal fees. She’d been told that one of the security officers who arrested her had taken her dog.