November 11th

November 11th,

Oh God I know I’m going to be late!

I have to be at the White House at 7pm. It is now noon and I am still at the Salon in Boston getting my hair done. My flight is at 3pm. What was I thinking? I am never going to be able to pull this off!

Serenity now! Serenity now!

I got in from Germany very early this morning. The mission went ok despite a minor hiccup that left both myself, Scarlett and Jinx at the mercy of some very violent terrorists. The ‘revolutionaries’ (there are a lot of those around lately) were knocking over an American PX to finance their activities. Unfortunately, they were holding three hostages as shields so that no one was able to get a clear shot…not even Low Light.

When we arrived in Frankfurt the situation had already been going on for over twelve hours with no contact from the hostage takers. We found out later that they had been waiting for an escape route…a hijacked plane out at Rhein-Main Flughafen.

Oh…that tickles. Damn I really needed a pedicure, didn’t I? Combat boots are not easy on your feet…

Anyhow, I managed to get through the whole thing without one snarky comment to Chuckles. Ok…maybe one. When we first met up I kind of asked if the situation was too much for him and Dial Tone to handle by themselves. Scarlett frowned in disapproval but Chuckles merely grinned and said he thought he might need a feminine touch.

I should have ended it then, but I continued in the same haughty ‘Hart’ tone when I asked him if he had a plan. This little conversation is going to get back to Hawk for certain. I was very close to crossing the line between wry humor and insubordination.

Of course, he did have a plan. It was dangerous as all hell, but it was a plan. It involved the three of us going into the PX disguised as nurses and taking down the enemy in one quick blow.

Ummm…red nail polish is too RED…I think I will go with the dark red/brown Chanel color there…Vamp. Yes…perfect.

Needless to say, they ended up taking us down. We couldn’t defend ourselves while the hostages were still in immediate danger, and as a result ended up being taken captive.

We fought our way out in the end, but not without some bruises to show for it. Those guys had no idea what they had gotten into when they decided to piss off two ninjas and one temperamental ex-socialite with a mean right hook. I almost feel sorry for them.

Almost…because of that pimply bitch ‘Jane’ I have a very big bruise forming on my side. Thank god it will covered by my dress. In the meantime, though…I am having trouble bending over without flinching in pain.

I wish Paul would stop going on about my hair. I know it’s a mess. He has been my stylist for years…I trust him implicitly. But he does tend to get very emotional about hair. He is just lucky its long enough to style.

The highlights came out well. Daniel did an excellent job as usual.

He thinks I am heading for a nervous breakdown. He doesn’t know the half of it! In less than 48 hours I have crossed the Atlantic twice, had a gun put to my head, was handcuffed and blindfolded in the back of a truck AND had breakfast with my mother.

I don’t know which was the more stressful.

Yes…I saw my mother. It was required if I was going to carry out ‘Operation Cinderella’ successfully. We hardly speak to each other, not since she cut me off from the finances. It would have happened whether or not she slashed my budget, I dread our conversations enough to avoid them like the plague. They usually involve her criticizing my career and trying to marry me off…

This morning was no different. It began innocently enough as we skirted around our main conflict by engaging in small talk about the goings on among the Vineyard social set. I should have known it wouldn’t last long.

She was asking me about the affair tonight and politely enquired as to whom was escorting me. Of course, she doesn’t know about Dashiell…I keep my private life private. I told her my date was one of my fellow soldiers and she got the ‘oh goodness…so beneath you look’ which I recognized from my days with Shawn. Actually, that was the ‘he is an entire drinking-aged- person older than you are…oh the scandal’ look…can’t get the two confused.

I must have been really tired, because before I knew it I let slip that Dashiell and I had been seeing each other for a few years. Silence settled over our little table in the café as my mother absorbed the words.

“And you are not planning to marry…” I don’t know if that was relief in her voice. It certainly sounded like relief.

“We work together, it wouldn’t be…”

“So its not serious…”

“It is…”

“Are you trying to convince me or yourself?”

“Mother…” I gave her my best warning tone.

“Oh, Alison…really…you could do better. When are you going to stop playing these games and come home. You have done your ‘tour’, or whatever it is they call it…the army is no place for a ‘Hart’.”

It went on from there. By the time I left her I needed three aspirin to stop my head from pounding. Not only did I end up having to defend my career choice, due to my own big mouth I had to defend poor Dash as well.

Sigh*

Despite our differences, I knew she would pull through with my request. I had said the three magic words after all:

White House

Gala

Chanel Gown

There was no way she was going to let a ‘Hart’ attend that affair without a quick trip to the safety deposit box. Diamonds are a girl’s best friend after all…and I have to tell you it was well worth the side trip to Boston to pick them up.

So that almost completes the checklist. Hair, nails, pedicure, jewelry…the dress and shoes were purchased in New York before I left for Frankfurt. Now all I need to do is my makeup…

…and make the flight to DC!

If I don’t collapse from exhaustion in front of the President and First Lady it will be a miracle.