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“Oh!” He peered at the screen. “You fail a couple times, and it will turn off for 24-hours. You can try again tomorrow.”
“You couldn’t tell me this before?” I was starting to see what kind of relationship this was going to be.
“It wouldn’t be necessary to tell you if you got it right.” He stared at me like that was the most obvious thing in the world.
“You know, the name Brett really suits you.”
He laughed at me, then went to another drawer. He reached in and pulled out some makeup. A tube of lipstick and some powder.
“Do you have a secret life as a cross-dresser?” I asked.
“It’s for you, you ungrateful brat.” He shook his head indulgently. “We have to change your appearance. Since you don’t wear makeup, you’re now going to wear a lot of it. Specifically, gothic makeup. If you look in your closet upstairs, there’s some oversized black clothes for you to wear. You are now a gothic computer analyst called Jubilee Bradley. And…” He paused for effect, holding out for the drama. “You’re now an American citizen.”
With that announcement, he slid a blue passport to me. I opened it, and while there was no picture, there was my newfakename, and though the year of my birth was the same, I was now a gemini. The address, I recognized, was the house we were currently in.
Jubilee Bradley, a resident of Santa Monica. The passport was otherwise blank.
“We have to work on your accent, of course.” He told me. “You have a very light Filipino accent. We need to make you pass for a California Valley girl.”
My eyes widened.
“Really?” I cringed. “Can’t I just be… monotone? I don’t mind getting rid of my Filipino voice, but a valley girl?”
Brett smiled at me, shook his head, and shrugged. “We need to work on you learning accents, anyway. It’s a part of tradecraft. And I suspect your father never got to that with you.”
“I don’t have a…”
“I swear to god, if you say it, I will beat you senseless!” His jovial face turned menacing. He meant it.
I sighed. I took his chastisement, though I knew it was unwarranted. Jericho, or Brett, or whoever, was being kind to me. And until I found LeBlanc, he was my only lifeline.
Brett took a deep breath. “Get dressed. Put on the makeup, and we’ll head out onto the boardwalk for breakfast.”
I grabbed the makeup, went back to my room without a word. I knew I was frustrating him. The irritation radiated from his skin. Why did it matter what I said about a dead man that I barely knew?
In my room, I stared at my face. I had a black eye, slight swelling on my cheek, but otherwise, I didn’t hate my face.
I took the lipstick and put it on. It was dark as night, matted and thick. It made my lips look even larger. The foundation he had given me was a shade lighter than my skin, and it covered up the bruise. I suppose the fact that it was light went along with the gothic look.
Since the point was to disguise myself, I chose not to braid my hair. I wasn’t sure I could, anyway. LeBlanc had always been the one to braid it. Instead, my hair lay straight, touching the top of my ass.
In the closet, true to his word, was an all-black wardrobe. There were dresses that made me look like Wednesday Addams, with little white peter pan collars. There were baggy shirts with silver studs on the shoulders, lacy trimmings, and there was even a long shirt made entirely of fishnet.
I choose to put on a pair of black shorts, cut off and frayed at the ends, and a plain black t-shirt. I would acclimate to the rest later on.
When I looked at myself in the mirror, I looked younger, and less attractive. Like I was playing a kabuki theater. But I guess that was the point.
Play fair, now. The lady gets to beat you one at a time.
Those words hummed in my mind. Was it only last night that a man said those things? And where was the mystery man now? Cian. That was the name he gave me. But like Brett, I was sure it wasn’t real. Just another mask that we all wear.
Chapter 10
Alastair - Up-State New York
Iplacedtheteaspoondown on the saucer, and picked up a biscuit and dunked it into the liquid. I brought the tea-softened biscuit to my lips and took a tentative bite.
I was in the Green mansion in Up-State New York near Saratoga Springs. The red-brick mansion with white Grecian columns was far off the roads, out of sight. In the front were the Green’s legitimate enterprises–horses and such. In the back of the 100-acre property were, seemingly, barns and storage buildings where my cousin kept a small standing army.
