What a magical evening!
I am
sitting up in bed in my hotel room, waiting for Flint to get out of the shower.
We have to meet Hawk and Duke for lunch in an hour to go over the information we
managed to gather at the White House, but I can’t seem to get myself out of bed.
I am just drained. We managed to make it back to the hotel at 3AM, and Dash
didn’t let me get to sleep until 4! Combined with jet lag and the fact that I
have hardly slept in three days, you can imagine the state I am in.
…but
it was SOOOOO worth it. Operation Cinderella was a resounding success!
I
managed to make my flight and check into the hotel with just enough time to
spare to get changed and relax before having to meet the boys at the entrance to
the White House.
It’s been a long time since I have had to dress up for a
formal affair such as this. When I was still officially a ‘Hart’ it seemed like
I was at a party every second weekend, but once I joined the Joes I had no time
for fundraisers and soirees, and to tell you the truth, no real desire to go
either. The people who usually attended were just so stuck up and fake, and I
was sick to death of the little power games that took place between the
‘established’ families.
My life has changed. Those affairs are a thing of
the past. I am a different person now. So much so that when I looked in the
mirror after I had finished getting ready, it was like a stranger was staring
back at me.
A beautiful stranger.
I still can’t believe the
transformation. My hair was done up in an elegant twist and clip at the back of
my head, the highlights having lightened it up just enough to give life to the
color without overdoing it. My dress was a lovely black evening gown from Chanel
that fell to my ankles. It clung to my body in all the right places, in fact the
hard muscle and soft contours of my body were accentuated perfectly. Last time I
wore a dress like this I was a skinny bony mess…like one of those waif super
models…
What a difference!
My feet were in the most lovely,
feminine evening sandals…the straps thin and elegant…the heel just high enough
to add a touch of finesse. Around my neck was a gorgeous diamond necklace with
matching bracelet and earrings.
A little makeup and some of my favorite
‘Yves St Laurent’ perfume, and the picture was complete.
As my mother
always says…simple is elegant. Don’t over do…let your natural beauty shine. For
all her foibles, she knows what she is talking about.
Wow! Eat your heart
out, Cover Girl!
If I was shocked and pleased by the change in my
appearance, you can imagine the look of complete astonishment that greeted me as
I gracefully made my way out of the car and up the red carpet with the all the
poise and polish of an ex-debutant and actress.
The vehicle in question
was a shining black Rolls Royce Silver Spur custom limousine. Only 300 of this
particular model were made, and the Harts owned two of them. The license plate
in the front sported a silver Heraldic Stag ‘rampant’ on a solid black
background, our family crest. The back plates said simply HART1. The interior
was all clean tan leather and wood panel trim.
As the full liveried
chauffeur emerged and opened the door, I breathed a silent thank you to my
grandmother for coming through. We might not see eye to eye on most issues, but
when it came to making a grand impression…well, she and I are willing
co-conspirators.
Duke was the first to notice me, freezing in place and
dropping his hat in the process. Hawk went to chide him for messing up his
uniform when he realized what had caught his eye. I think that is the first time
I ever saw the General gawk. His wife Susan whacked him on the back of the head
to snap him out of it.
Mind you…all of that was happening in the corner
of my eye, at the edge of my consciousness…as my attention at that point was
focused on the tall, dark haired man standing a little to the side. He was
dressed impeccably, his dress uniform tailored beautifully to his body, his hat
held under his arm. He looked so handsome… I had never seen him in his ‘Dress
Blues’…if I had I probably would have jumped him. As it was all the women were
eyeing him intently.
I felt a twinge of jealousy but I needn’t have
worried. From the minute he saw me his eyes never wavered. In fact, they were
practically bulging out of his head. Seeing the look of complete surprise,
longing, confusion, desire, incredulity, shock that came across his face was
worth every minute of effort, every dollar spent, every second arguing with my
mother.
When I finally reached him our eyes locked and I saw his mouth
move, but no sound was coming out.
“Well, Lady Jaye…I think we have all
just witnessed a historic event,” Duke said as he came up behind me, “Dashiell
Faireborn at a loss for words.”
I don’t think Flint even heard him. He
was still struggling to get the words out of his mouth.
“Allie?” He
squeaked…my name coming out soft and strangled…Oh yes…revenge is
sweet.
“Dashiell, sweetheart…” I said in my best Hart tone, “if you are
going to be eye-candy tonight you had better stop opening and closing your mouth
like a fish. It certainly detracts from an otherwise seamless package.”
I
smiled at him calmly and turned to the others. Duke had yet another tall redhead
with him, with a spark of wit in her green eyes. Thank God…this one has a brain
it seems. That last girl was dumb as a post…gorgeous…but she would get lost in a
closet. Where does he find these women?
He has a thing for long red hair.
You know, I bet you anything if Snakes wasn’t around he would be after Shana for
sure. I have seen the way he looks at her sometimes, it is certainly not the
look of a commanding officer assessing one of his
soldiers.
Hmmmm….
“Jaye…for Christ’s sake…you look
like…well….really…ummm…” Hawk ran his hand through his blond hair as he shook
his head in wonder, “…hell, you could have taken a cab you know…”
“A Hart
never takes a cab, sir. You asked for a Hart this assignment, and you got one.”
I smiled as I moved towards him, whispering to the driver that I would call him
on when I was ready to leave. He nodded his head in acknowledgement and with a
quick m’Lady before turning back to the limo.
Flint continued to stare at
me in silence as we made our way into the foyer where cocktails were presently
being served, his face unreadable. Other than croaking out my name he had yet to
say two words, which was very unusual for him. Instead…he seemed a bit lost,
stumbling along beside me…his eyes locked on me in a look of complete
amazement…so much so that he nearly plowed into a pillar.
I wanted to
burst out laughing, but I had put on my ‘socialite’ mask and merely looked back
at him and smiled pleasantly as if this was the most normal thing in the world
for me.
Which it had been…once upon a time.
I grabbed a glass of
Chablis from one of the waiters as Hawk went over rules for the night before we
spilt up to begin our ‘mission’. Tonight we were not Joes, we were here to enjoy
the party. No code names, no reference to our top secret team…just mingle and
have a good time.
And my mind focused on just that as we passed through
the security checkpoint and into the grand East Room.
The large area is
decorated in a late 18th-century classical style. An oak floor of Fontainebleau
parquetry, the bronze electric-light standards, upholstered benches, and three
Bohemian cut-glass chandeliers are all kept in impeccable condition. The walls
themselves are paneled in wood with classical fluted pilasters and relief
insets, all painted white, while delicate plaster decoration adorn the
ceiling.
In the center of the room a Steinway grand piano with gilt
American eagle stands under a gorgeous full length portrait of George
Washington, and around it are seated the musicians of the Washington Chamber
Orchestra.
Opulent hardly describes it.
The room was decorated
tastefully in patriotic colors. Here and there senators and generals,
politicians and lobbyists moved around the room dressed to the nines, sipping on
their drinks and conversing while being serenaded by the sounds of Vivaldi in
the background.
Flint was hanging back again, scanning the room quickly
as if assessing how best to approach the enemy on a battlefield. I noted several
undercover CIA agents positioned at strategic intervals around the room. With
the President in attendance, one would expect nothing less…but that was not what
was catching Flint’s eye.
I followed his gaze and honed in on several of
the top brass milling about with their wives in tow. Then I knew why he was so
quiet…
Of course there were many high-ranking generals in attendance, but
Dash was eyeing a few in particular…including General Malthus (who was out of
prison, it seemed), General Crowther and General Hollingsworth…not the types you
want to cross, not unless you feel like going head to head with the
Jugglers.
After that fiasco with the Cobra Civil War where most of us
ended up getting arrested and poor Hawk was confined to a psychiatric ward, we
had learned the extent of their control. Then there was Crowther’s attempt at
‘head games’ with Snakes and Storm Shadow. The idea of coming under the eye of
the top secret committee of generals that held the reigns of power in the
Pentagon…and some say the oval office itself…was unappealing to say the
least.
In the words of William Proxmire, “Power exercised in secret,
especially under the cloak of national security, is doubly
dangerous."
Which led me to wonder why Hawk wanted me here at all. As I
mentioned before we were to gather as much information as we could without
drawing too much attention to ourselves. It is fairly certain that the Jugglers
were aware of my family connections. The Harts are about as powerful in the
world of Wall Street as they were in the department of defense, and there was no
way that my presence at this gala would go unnoticed.
Economic power
meant political clout on Capitol Hill as well.
So if it was not my
‘covert’ information gathering and analysis skills that Hawk needed tonight,
than there was only one other possible answer…
“Intelligence is not all
that important in the exercise of power, and is often, in point of fact,
useless.” Dashiell whispered the quote and hit the nail right on the head. It
irked me that he clued in so quickly…it irked me more that he had yet to say
anything about how I looked.
“Kissinger…” I replied with ease, “and I
know what I am doing.”
“This is a dangerous game Hawk is playing.” His
voice was low, anger vied with concern in his dark eyes, “He is using your
family name to…”
“…as any good general uses his soldiers in the field…” I
returned easily, turning to him and meeting his eye. “…and I intend to give him
what he needs. I have played this game since I was old enough to talk. As much
as I am loath to admit it I am a Hart. I am in my element here. Make no mistake,
tonight is going to require as much cunning and skill as any battle. If you are
not up to it…”
His eyes darkened at the implications of my words, but my
eyes were locked with his and did not falter. Finally I saw his soften and he
smiled.
“It’s easy to forget who you are…its too easy to loose sight of
the woman behind the warrior.” He whispered.
I frowned in confusion when
I felt his hand brush my cheek while his other took my hand.
“The fairest
hand I ever touch’d. O Beauty, ‘til now I never knew thee.”
His voice,
deep and sonorous, always stuck a chord within me. And of course, like an
idiot…I melted…
“Dash…”
“Come, my Lady…” he offered me his arm,
“…we have a job to do. And I for one plan on enjoying every minute of
it…”
I smiled back at him and took his arm. And as we descended the
staircase into the room below, I felt Dash straighten in his usual display of
masculine pride. But this time it was different. This time it he was showing off
the lady on his arm.
Me.
The rest of the evening was a blur. We
mingled and socialized with as many people as we could manage. I was at my best,
my mother would have been impressed by the skill and confidence I showed as I
worked the room, Dash tagging along behind. In fact, for the first time since I
have known him, he was content to let me lead the show without so much as a peep
of protest.
Not that he was the eye-candy that I had labeled him a couple
of days ago.
Far from it.
He had managed to reign in his ‘Flint’
arrogance, letting his quick wit and keen intelligence take hold. Hearing him
speak was an experience, and it served to remind me once again why I had fallen
in love with him.
I also couldn’t help but notice that he did not take
his eyes off me for the whole evening, and I knew him well enough to tell from
the look on his face that he was impressed if a little taken aback by the way I
handled even the most powerful men on the hill.
Despite his admiration, I
could also sense the ever-present worry…not that he would ever admit to that
type of emotion. Yet I had learned to read the signs. The change in posture, the
slight narrowing of his eyes, the way he stood closer to me as if his mere
presence would ward of the danger that these men presented. This was especially
apparent when I got close to the Jugglers…
Yet as my grandmother always
told me, the game, once started, must be played out to the end. You cannot
falter…you cannot show weakness. Remain calm, remain confident, give nothing
away. Absorb everything and store it for use later. Even what seems to be the
most trivial of tidbits might prove to be just what you need to turn the tide in
your favor.
I repeated this to Dash as he held me in his arms while we
made our way back to the hotel in the Rolls.
“Your grandmother sounds
like she would make a great field commander…” he laughed softly as he kissed the
top of my head.
“More like a dictator…”
Back to the party…where
was I? Mingling, talking…DANCING. Oh how we danced. It was as if there was only
the two of us and the music. After a lavish meal that would have put even
Roadblock to shame, we were treated to some wonderful live music. It seems that
the Presidential ‘clout’ extends itself into the entertainment industry, for the
headliners included some big names.
But I think the thing I will remember
most about the evening…the one scene that will stay with me, burned into my mind
in stunning detail, for the rest of my days…happened in the presidential Rose
Garden. I think I will relate the whole incident here…I want to write this down
word for word.
I need to write this down.
It all started when I
met up with my very good friend Melanie. Mel and I grew up together in the
Vineyard…best friends from birth and all. We pretty much did everything
together…that is until I joined the army. I was not surprised in the least to
see her in attendance, as she was presently working as the Press Secretary to
the current President.
In any case, we chatted and reminisced about old
times, and when Dash came over to join us, she looked him up and down with her
discerning eye, noting the uniform…and said the following.
“Nice Allie…I
see your taste is still impeccable.” Dash winked at her in amusement, loving
every minute of attention. As it was the next hour with Dash was damned near
impossible…sigh.
Anyhow, after a bit Melanie paused and
sighed.
“You are still in the military aren’t you?” I nodded, “When I saw
you tonight I thought for sure you had come back into the fold. It was just a
dare, Al…we never thought you would take it so seriously.”
“I like what I
am doing…”
“I can see why.” She smiled wickedly and indicated Dash, who
was busy chatting up some leggy blond in the shortest dress I have ever
seen.
“Well…that’s part of it…” I frowned as I noticed the bimbo sidling
closer to him. Damn he is such a flirt. I turned back to my friend, “But I
really do love it. I never thought I would…”
She interrupted me. “I know
Al. God knows you would never stay this long at something you hated. Remember
the junior league?”
“Oh god…” I made a face, remembering the childhood
trauma of it all, “My mother despaired at me EVER making a ‘debut’ into
‘society. And if I remember correctly, your mother blamed me for corrupting
you.”
“She still does. Calls you ‘that Hart girl’.” She did a grand
imitation of one of her mother’s tirade and we giggled like schoolgirls. Flint
looked over at us with an expression of bewilderment etched across his face. I
don’t think he has ever heard me giggle before.
“You know, Allie-Cat. We
could us someone like you here. You are wasted where you are now. I can make
some phone calls…not that it would be needed once they read your resume and see
your last name…and your mother would be so happy she would probably but you back
on the family accounts.”
“Mel…” I sighed, warning her with a look that
this wasn’t something I wanted to talk about.
“Just think about
it…promise me you will think about it.”
I did think about it. I thought
about it every minute after I left her and went back out into the crowds. In
fact…my thoughts began to overwhelm me after a while. So much so that I needed
to escape. To be alone.
So I exited through the large French doors and
out into the garden. It was a mild night given the time of year, but the area
was still empty save the agents roaming the grounds.
I am not quite sure
what I felt as I stood outside in the rose garden. Anger at my family friends
and family for dismissing all that I have accomplished in the military, remorse
for keeping the ‘dare thing’ a secret from Dash, guilt for knowing that there
was a time in my life when I would have considered a man like Dashiell, a
soldier, beneath me…or fear…fear that despite the fun we were having tonight
that my relationship with him was still in the inevitable downward
spiral.
Maybe Mel was right, maybe my mother was right…maybe it was time
to grow up. It was time to take my place among the Harts. God knows I enjoyed
playing the part tonight. I didn’t realize how much I missed the thrill of the
game despite my complete intolerance of the snobbery that went with
it.
…Didn’t it all pale in comparison to what I am doing now? Fighting
for my country? Fighting for a cause?
But it is here…among these men and
women…that the real game is played out. The Jugglers, the politicians, the Wall
Street tycoons…they held the reigns. I was born to play this field. I was
trained to dance with devil and come out on top…I could feel the alluring pull
of ‘power’ that my mother’s side of the family held so close.
Who am I? I
play so many parts…soldier, scholar, actress, socialite, Scot, American…so many
roles. But which one is the real me. Have I become so accomplished an actress
that I can’t even tell where the performance stops and the real me
begins.
Maybe, for all my denials…I am more a Hart than
anything.
I honestly felt like crying, but I would never do so in public.
Instead I just stood there alone and watched the night sky in a desperate
attempt to regain my composure.
Then IT happened.
“There you are…I
have been looking all over for you!” His growl startled me but I did not turn
around.
When I didn’t respond he continued in a softer tone…his voice
full of concern.
“Hey…Allie…what’s wrong? Did someone hurt you? If they
did they are in for a…”
I don’t know what it was…his quiet tone, his
genuine worry…or my utter exhaustion…but when I felt his hand rest on my
shoulder I just let go. I told him everything.
I told him about the
dare…I told him how I came into the army, how useless I was in basic. How I just
wanted to escape from my overbearing mother. I told him what my uncle had said,
what Mel had offered. I spoke of the feelings that had come to a head tonight,
how I sometimes I feel like I don’t belong on the team. How sometimes I really
missed my old life.
As I spoke he listened quietly. Really listened. It
was the first time in a long while that he had stopped talking long enough to
truly hear what I had to say.
“You know, I can count on one hand how many
times you have opened up to me.” He leaned against a pillar and watched me
carefully.
“I’m sorry…I didn’t mean to burden you with my insecurities…It
won’t happen again” I snapped, angry at myself for letting go and ready to leave
until I felt his hand on my shoulder.
“No…I didn’t mean it that
way…god…why is it I can never get it right with you?” He shook his head in
frustration. “I meant that I like it when you do. It makes me feel like I really
mean something to you. That you trust me…”
“Of course you mean something
to me Dash…but you never seemed interested in my thoughts and feelings
before.”
“Ah…well…can’t argue with that. I am a bit self-centered at
times…”
“At times…” I teased.
“Jaye…” he warned, but his smile
softened the impact of the tone. “Dare or no, you should be proud of what you
have accomplished. You made the GIJOE team…you are the best of the best. Don’t
let anyone tell you that it is meaningless. Don’t ever think that don’t belong.
But tonight…” he paused…
“Tonight?” I began, but he cut me
off.
“Tonight I saw the most beautiful woman I have ever met bring
several of the most powerful men in the country to their knees with a glance and
a well placed word.” He lowered his voice and looked away “Your friend is
right…you are right…you DO belong here, Alison.”
“Dashiell…” Did he just
call me beautiful? I remember thinking to myself…’how much has he had to
drink?’…but then I saw the look in his eyes. The barriers were gone. They were
down but good this time.
“I guess in the back of my mind I always knew
you were out of my league.” He laughed softly, sadly “That one day, when all of
this is over…when the Joes disband…that you would go back to your old
life.”
“Do you think so little of me, Dashiell. After all we have gone
through…” I turned away, not wanting him to see the look of anguish that crossed
my face.
“No…Alison. I think the world of you.” I felt his warm breath
against my neck. “I think so little of myself.”
I turned around sharply
and looked at him in surprise. He laughed.
“Yeah…the secrets out eh? But
then again…I think you more than anyone knew that all along. I am such a jerk
sometimes, it’s a wonder that you put up with me.”
I smiled in
amusement.
“I ask myself the same question…I never know from one minute
to the next what’s going to come out of that mouth of yours.”
“Never a
dull moment. I guess you bring out the worst in me sometimes…and the best as
well.” He paused then, as if collecting his thoughts. “You always saw through
me…even when I was acting like a fool. You stood by me despite the fact that I
have done nothing to deserve it…”
“….and I think ‘I love you the more in
that I believe you have liked me for my own sake and for nothing
else’.”
At those last words, hearing the quote from Keats, I
froze.
“What did you just say?” I whispered.
“You heard me…” he
looked away, obviously uncomfortable. “Come on Jaye…its not like you didn’t
know…”
“I didn’t. Love has no place in the military…remember? Keep it
light…remember?”
“Well, I lied. Happy?” he growled. “It means nothing
anyhow…this is where you belong.”
“Who are you to tell me where I
belong?” I snarled, “All my life I have had people telling me what to do, how to
think, where I should be…I will make my own choices thank you very much. And
where I belong is with you, you stubborn fool.” He swung around sharply at my
words but I did not pause. There were things that needed to be said.
It
was time.
“You are what I want. You are all I have ever wanted…the power,
the money, the influence…I walked away from it years ago. I would be lying if I
said I didn’t miss it…that I sometimes wonder where my life would be now if I
had just walked out of that coffee shop and told Jules to shove it. But the
minute I do, I remember that had I not taken up his challenge...had I not
accepted the dare…I would have missed out on some of the most fulfilling and
wonderful experiences of my life….that I would never have met you. ”
I
stopped then…realizing what I had just said. I looked up to see him with an
amused grin on his face…he picked it up as well.
Insecurities be damned.
I knew where I belonged. I knew it all along…
“Since when are you vying
for Psych Out’s job?” I asked, my eyes narrow.
“Just call me Dashiell
Freud.”
“Very funny…”
We stood in silence for what seemed like an
eternity, neither of us wanting to acknowledge the feelings that had been
brought out into the open. Finally, I spoke. I had to know.
“What you
said before…” I said softly, nervously. There was fear in his eyes, but the
barrier was still down.
“I meant it. ” He sighed,
“You?”
“Yes…”
“You have to know it would never work.”
“How
do you know that, Dashiell?” I asked calmly, “How can you say that knowing all
we have been through? All the happiness and the hurt, all the ups and
downs…through all the difficulty of maintaining a relationship in the
military…on the JOE TEAM…we have stuck by each other. Do those five years mean
nothing?”
“They mean everything. More than you could possibly imagine…”
he made a cutting motion with his hand and continued, “but I know what happens
next…”
“I am not Karen.” His eyes flashed then… anger at hearing her
name, remembering her. Remembering Sierra Gordo. “I’m sorry…”
“No…don’t
apologize.” He whispered, “You are right…you are not. I never compared you with
her. There would have been no contest. I loved her, yes…but with you…its
different. Its more…” he paused and then continued, “I feel more than I ever
felt when I was with her and it terrifies me.”
“Me too.”
He looked
up at me and our eyes locked. Slowly he brought his hand up to my cheek and I
nestled myself against his palm…
“This isn’t going to be
easy…”
“When has our relationship ever been that? Three has always been a
crowd.”
“Three?” he cocked his eyebrow, his face betraying a bit of fear
as to who else held my heart.
“You, me…and your ego.”
He laughed,
his eyes bright.
“God…Allie…I love you.”
“I love you
too.”
We kissed passionately under the stars, oblivious to the people
around us…forgetting where we were and why we were here. We were in love. That
was all that mattered.
When we finally broke off, Flint looked at me and
smiled.
“You think Hawk would mind if we left early?”
“Mmmmm…I
think he would understand.”
“So,” I began lightly as we walked towards my
driver arm in arm, “does this mean I get to drive the ‘stang.”
He tensed,
but out of the corner of my eye I saw his sparkle in amusement.
“Don’t
push it.”
So there you have it. HE LOVES ME. HE LOVES ME. HE LOVES
ME.
Did I mention he loves me?
I am so happy I could just explode.
I know this isn’t going to be easy. We aren’t out of the woods yet, but this is
one major step forward. For both of us…
Meanwhile…I had better start
getting ready for lunch. Hawk will be pissed if we are late. I managed to pick
up quite a bit last night, but none of it is good. He is not going to like what
I have to say.
Funding cuts are on the horizon and it looks like the
Juggler’s are going to try and nail us to the wall again.
No…Hawk is not
going to like this at all.
…
HE LOVES
ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
______________________________________________________
To Be Continued!
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