The Professional Page 2

  I fought the urge of sarcasm and instead shrugged and said, “Maybe if I wanted to be a Hollywood director or something. I want to make documentaries.”

  “Like Michael Moore?”

  And the hundreds of other just as worthwhile filmmakers out there that nobody’s ever heard of. “More like Orlando von Einsiedel or Hajooj Kuka. They document problems I care more about.”

  He stared at me blankly.

  “War. Poverty. Third world issues abroad.” I smiled at the memories that popped into my head. “After high school I spent a year in India working with orphans in Delhi. That’s what I want to share with the world. The struggles people have that aren’t considered important enough to hit American news stations. They deserve to have their stories told. In fact, I-” I paused, realizing that Graham’s eyes were on me, but his brain was somewhere else entirely.

  It took him a second to realize I’d stopped talking. “I have no idea why anyone would voluntarily go to a third world country,” he said.

  I didn’t bother to respond. I was starting to realize that the benefits of Graham were not worth having to deal with his personality. Mother would have to be disappointed. It wouldn’t be for the first time.

  “What do your parents do?” he asked, pushing the conversation in a different direction. I could hear the underlying question: do I have anything to gain here? I was guessing he wasn’t feeling it either. I’d live.

  “They’re in politics,” I said vaguely.

  He visibly straightened and it was all I could do to keep my eyes from rolling.

  “Would I know them?” he asked.

  “I doubt it,” I said. I checked my watch and gestured for the waiter. He brought over our bill. “Let’s split it,” I said, pulling out my card and handing it to the man.

  Graham didn’t object.

  I picked up my purse and nodded toward the bathroom, before fleeing to safety. I really didn’t want to spend another minute with this guy, even the amount of time it would take the man to swipe my card. Once I was safely inside, I groaned aloud and pressed my palms hard into my eyes. Why did Graham have to turn out like every other self-absorbed gasbag I’d met at Columbia? He was handsome, confident in class, charming enough when he asked me out. Did I attract a type? And should I just bite the bullet and hang on to him through my family’s visit? I stared at myself in the mirror, willing my reflection to answer my questions. She just stared helplessly back.

  I shook my head, washing my hands just so I had something to do. No, I was desperate to avoid the “husband talk” with Mother, but not that desperate.

  I went back out into the cafe. Graham stood up quickly as I approached the table.

  “How was it?” he asked, searching my face eagerly like a dog looking for approval.

  I blinked hard and stared suspiciously back at him.

  “Oh, sorry.” He smacked a hand against his forehead. “That was a stupid question. You just make me a little nervous.” The flirtatious grin was back.

  I understood the shift immediately, but didn’t understand how… My gaze shot to my credit card sitting on the table. Cordelia Harmont winked back at me from the plastic. Of course.

  “You Googled me,” I accused.

  “What are you talking about?” he tried, but that shit wasn’t going to work on me.

  “You sure?” I asked. “Because before I left the table you were planning out which girl you were going to hit up tonight and now I ‘make you nervous’.”

  He looked like he was about to deny it again, but then wisely changed his mind. “How could you not tell me you’re a princess?” he asked loud enough to draw the curious eye of the people at the tables around us.

  “I am NOT a princess,” I hissed at him. “My mother is.”

  “So you’re what? The grand-princess?” he teased.

  “I’m nothing. My older brother is in line for the throne and even if he wasn’t, I would never take it.” I shouldered my purse and plucked my card from the table. “Nice knowing you. Good luck at Columbia,” I said, turning toward the door.

  “Wait a minute,” he said, stepping in front of me. “You don’t want to see each other again?”

  I glared up at him. “Listen Graham. I didn’t really care that you were a self-absorbed douche. Some people are just born that way. But trying to slide in now once you realize I have connections? Now that just pisses me off. Want some advice? Stay consistent. It’ll make you look less pathetic.”

  I brushed by him, ignoring the attention from the other patrons. Yeah, yeah. Enjoy the show.

  I felt better once I was back on the street, losing myself in the crowds walking along Fifth Avenue. That could have gone better, but honestly, it rarely did. I hated dating, but every once in a while, I’d say yes to some guy’s offer and remember why I turned down most of them. The evenings rarely stood out in my mind, blending together into time spent either bored out of my mind or scared for my life. There had been a couple charmers, but it was always apparent after a couple dates what they were really after - my status, my money, my heritage. Once their true intentions were bared, I’d kick them to the curb. I never felt bad about it because - other than the obvious fact that they didn’t actually care about me - they didn’t realize it was all a sham. My status was low, my money all my mother’s. Heritage was about the only thing I had going for me, the last name of Harmont that came with a dead weight of expectations and a gaudy mansion in Manhattan, as unpractical as it was inconvenient. Try telling a date that you’re really nothing special and then inform them that your address is a popular tourist snapshot. Does not compute.

  The real splendor of the Harmont name was across the ocean, in the little mountain nation of Athea, sandwiched between France and Italy in the Alps where it had withstood centuries of invaders dating back to the Romans, both World Wars, and two devastating avalanches last year alone. My Gran, Queen Amelia Harmont, had reined for close to fifty years and my mother, her daughter, lurked in her shadow, overseeing cultural events, entertaining diplomats, hosting fundraisers, and traveling across the world to speak on her mother’s behalf. Gran might still be the Queen in theory, but Mother sure as hell won’t have a rough transition to the throne when the day comes.

  And where did that leave me? Not next in line, my brother Hendrik got that joyous duty. But not completely free either. I’d wanted to stay in India and continue the work I was doing there, but my mother insisted on college. She’d wanted Oxford to keep me close by; I, Columbia, to put an ocean between us. How I’d won that battle, I couldn’t say for sure, but I suspected that Gran had a say in it.

  My phone rang and I checked the caller ID, answering with a smile to the sound of Diana’s voice on the other end.

  “Cora? There’s been an emergency. You need to get down here right now!”

  “Relax,” I said. “He’s long gone.”

  “Too bad,” Diana said, her voice relaxing into its normal cheerful tone. “I’m guessing that means it didn’t go well?”

  “Guessed right. I might as well give up now and accept that this visit is just going to suck.”

  “Hey now. You never know who you might meet between now and… when are they coming again?”

  I sighed. “A week from today.”

  Diana barked a laugh. “Oh yeah no, you’re screwed. Prepare for immense disapproval.”

  “I get it for every other aspect of my life,” I muttered, “might as well finally accept it on the personal level too.”

  “I can let you borrow Derek if you’d like,” Diana offered.

  “What?” I all but shouted, prompting several people at the traffic light to glare at me. “You’re back with Derek? Already?”

  “What do you mean ‘already’? I swore we weren’t getting back together.”

  “And look how that turned out,” I said. “What is this? Your third reunion?”

  “Fourth,” Diana admitted. “But we really only broke up because he was shooting that film in Brazil and I didn’
t want to do the whole long-distance bullshit.”

  “I thought you broke up because he got arrested and nearly killed breaking into the New York Zoo drunk to play Tarzan with the monkeys.”

  “We’re working through it,” she said.

  I could picture Diana at her kitchen island, long black hair hanging in a perfect sheet down her back as she flipped through a magazine and lazily tried to explain how she could continue a relationship with a man who was quite possibly the dumbest person to ever grace the cover of Humans. And that was saying something. I was jealous of her ability to casually breeze through life, seemingly without a care in the world.

  “If you say so,” I said.

  “Derek’s exciting,” she said. “I always have the best stories when I’m dating him.”

  “Are they stories or are they cries for help?” I asked.

  “Can’t they be a bit of both?” she asked. Then, as if to steer us away from the topic of Derek, she said, “I passed my final!”

  “Nice,” I said. I was happy for her, but couldn’t deny the twinge of jealousy I always got when she talked about her path in Columbia’s School of the Arts. Diana’s parents were Alison and Mick Hargreaves, a Hollywood power couple for twenty years before their divorce. Both of them still thrived on the big screen, in front of the camera and behind it, and Diana was intent on following in their footsteps. Even though we were following different majors, Diana and I were drawn to each other instantly at the beginning of freshman year. She understood what it was like to live in the shadow of a legacy.

  “It’s not too late to switch majors,” she said in a sing-song voice. “Your mother won’t find out until graduation and by then it’ll be too late.”

  “Um, I’m pretty sure it is too late,” I said. “I’ve been here for two years. Plus she probably has all my professors on speed dial. There’s no way that would get past her. I’m afraid I’m stuck.”

  “Yeah, I know, babe,” Diana said. “I’m sorry. Just wish you were here with me.”

  “I am in spirit,” I said.

  “So now that we’re both officially out for the summer, we’ve got to start planning vacation.” Another change of topic, unfortunately one that led right back into the immediate pressing issue of my life.

  I groaned. “I don’t think I can plan for a vacation that I might not live to see.”

  “What are you talking about?” Diana demanded. “That’s the only way you’re going to survive the next month, with something to look forward to.”

  She was right, but I still had a hard time mustering up excitement. My family’s visit cast a shadow over the next five weeks and I wasn’t going to be completely calm until they were all packed back onto the royal jet and flying back to Europe.

  Unlike a normal family coming to visit their daughter in New York, the Harmont’s weren’t going to be eating hot dogs or riding to the top of the Empire State Building in cargo shorts with cameras around their necks. I wasn’t even the main draw of the visit. My Gran was set to give a speech to the United Nations. My mother planned to use the month entertaining a wide variety of important Americans and passive aggressively (or just plain active aggressively) judging my every move.

  My overbearing mother wasn’t even the worst of my concerns though. The visit was going to interrupt my entire life in New York. It will be the first time my mother and Gran have visited the city in almost a decade and that meant their faces - and mine - will be on every television screen, across every tabloid. The streets I normally jogged peacefully down in the mornings will be spotted with photographers looking for unflattering pictures of me sweating. People that once ignored me on the subway will take a second glance, peering at my face and wondering where have I seen that girl?

  I knew what to expect because occasionally Diana would get this kind of attention - usually when one of her parents made a new movie or were seen with a new partner. She handled it well with that same devil-may-care attitude she brought to her relationship with Derek. I hated the attention. It was a huge reason why I left Athea and never looked back. Now I was going to be news again, and I couldn’t wait to get it over with and go back to being normal.

  “I can hear you stressing, Cora. You need to stop that,” Diana said calmly as my silence extended.

  “How do you handle it?” I asked. “The spotlight?”

  Diana laughed. “I’ve never been in the spotlight, more in the glow that reflects off my parents’ perfect teeth. And you won’t be either. It’s just going to be a little extra attention for a month before they find a new target. It’s not like you’ve run someone over or are going insane on Twitter. Remember, it could always be worse.”

  I supposed she was right. I lived a quiet life and this next month was just going to be a blip. Besides, did anyone in New York even care about my family? There actually was only one thing they could do that would make this visit ten times more inconvenient for everyone involved…

  I stopped in my tracks as my eye caught a headline on a nearby newsstand. Had I just had a premonition? Had I willed this into existence? Because just as my mind conjured up the worst case scenario, The New York Times repeated it back to me in bold faced type.

  Athea Royal Harmont Family to Bring Legendary Crown of Athea on State Visit.

  “I gotta go,” I said dumbly and hung up before Diana could respond. The press, the crowds, the attention, the security... Everything had just gotten a little more out of control, the month ahead blooming into a storm of chaos swirling around me. I was standing in the eye of Hurricane Harmont, safe for now but with the clouds in sight and only a broken umbrella for protection.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Alex

  I let the door swing shut loudly to announce my presence in the empty bar.

  Saul’s face peered out from the backroom, surprised and suspicious at the business. It softened when he saw me. “Alex. Welcome back. Gimme a minute.” He disappeared from sight.

  I settled at the empty bar and listened to the old man throw boxes around and swear under his breath. Finally he surfaced, striding behind the bar like a captain across the deck of his ship. He shook my hand and reached without looking for the personal bottle of Knob Creek he kept stashed under the sink.

  “Did you just get in?” he asked, pouring the bourbon into two glasses and setting one in front of me. I was thankful for the gloom that hid the dust and grit on the glass.

  “Sure did,” I said, clinking my glass against his raised one. The bourbon bit my throat and settled comfortably in my stomach, just what it needed after six hours on a plane.

  “And how was San Juan?”

  I shrugged. “It was OK. Good weather, cheap drinks. Too many tourists for my taste.”

  “Couldn’t be worse than this fucking city,” Saul grumbled, topping off both our drinks before storing the bottle away for later.

  I just shrugged again and took another long sip of the liquor. It was good to be home. I’d left the city about a month ago and tried to stay away as long as I could handle. I’d been hoping, when I’d left, that I’d stay in Puerto Rico for a few weeks before moving on to South America, tour around the jungles and mountains for a while before heading home. See a little more of the world. Once I’d gotten semi-comfortable in San Juan though, it was hard to justify moving any further when really all I wanted to do was head back home.

  “You didn’t come say goodbye when you left,” Saul said.

  Saul, an old professional with a hard face and a rapidly softening body, was the closest thing I had in the city to a friend. In reality, he was more of a mentor than anything, guiding me through my first few heists when I was almost as young and dumb as Jordan. We’d kept in touch over the years, though rarely meeting in person, comparing scores, strategies. I’d almost always give him a call if I was working with someone new as Saul had worked with every criminal, thief, and low-life in New York over his forty year career. We started seeing more of each other when Saul had finally retired from the business and
opened a small bar on the Lower East Side. It was poorly managed and hardly frequented, but Saul didn’t mind. He’d made his fortune tenfold; the bar was just a way to keep busy in his retirement years.

  “Sorry about that,” I said. “I left pretty suddenly.”

  Saul stiffened and fixed me with an apprehensive glare. “Feds?”

  I shook my head. “No, of course not. Who do you think you’re talking to?”

  He visibly relaxed. If I was being watched then he was too. “Then why?”

  “Just wanted to get away for a minute. See if I’m missing out on anything out there.”

  “And are you?”

  “Fuck no. I’m perfectly happy with things just the way they are.”

  Saul looked like he didn’t quite believe me, but didn’t comment. Instead, he changed the subject. “Heard someone vanished a pretty bust out of Calvin Harris’s display case a week before you left. You have anything to do with that?”

  I scowled into my drink. “No, I didn’t. But I was there.”

  Saul’s eyes jumped to mine. “Midas.”

  I nodded. “But it was Jordan’s fault as much as his. I have no idea why you thought we’d work well together.”

  Saul chuckled. “You didn’t like him? Funny. He reminded me a bit of you when you were his age.”

  “Watch your mouth,” I said. “He was an idiot.”

  “I’m surprised. I didn’t actually think you’d take him on.”

  “Yeah, I’m as shocked as you are. Guess I figured I’d switch it up a bit, pass on my skills to a new generation.”

  “And how’d that work out for you?” He laughed at the face I made.

  “Like shit. There’s a reason I’ve worked alone all these years. I’m not made for companionship.”

  Saul kicked his foot absentmindedly against the bar as he worked over my words in his mind. I got the impression that he was about to impart some wisdom that I probably wasn’t going to want to hear. That was how it worked in our relationship, how it always had: I’d do something wrong, and Saul would step in with his twenty years of experience and tell me the reality of the situation. I never wanted to admit that he was right, but I’d always end up figuring out that he was.