First Pages - Faces of the Game (action romance)

[Amanda]

  Opening Scene - Introduces setting, protagonist, sidekick, and love interest. Identifies protagonist's job, which leads to main conflict.       

            I hurry along the busy Manhattan street, weaving in and out of the other commuters, while I wait for the familiar voice to sound in my ear, and wish with every step that I wore the shorter heels made for running. The buildings tower on either side of me, blocking the outside world, and creating the unique universe that is New York.

           Normally, I love the lively buzz and crowds of the city. New York is the only place I know where you can blend in by standing out, making it easier to hide in plain sight, and the crowds also make for easy pickings.

           That is on a normal day. Today, I hate the crowds and the traffic. Today, I am running late for a meeting with a new mark.

            “Of course, I would be running late today. I hate being late!”

            “You really shouldn’t talk to yourself so much, Twiglet. People may start to think you’re crazy.”

            “It’s about time you made it to the party. Sleep in this morning?”

            “Actually, I’ve been working my fingers to the bone creating a masterpiece for you to sell to our friend, the art enthusiast, while you frolic around the city.”

            I can’t help but smile at Archie’s mock complaints. He is my surrogate family, like an older brother and mentor, and the best hacker I have ever met. He is also the reason that I have come so far. The rest of the world knows him by his hacker handle, Anarchy, but to me, he has always been Archie.

            Reaching up, I quickly adjust the nearly invisible ear bud that I’m wearing. The tiny devices are a creation of Archie’s and can pick up even the softest whisper. They are also how we communicate the most during a con.

            “I can’t believe you made a Jacques Louis David painting. You waste your talents, you know. Oh, and by the way, I might not talk to myself so much if the annoying voice in my head would shut up.” Dodging around a small child clinging to her mother, I wait for Archie’s response.

            “I will ignore that last comment. I did finish the painting. He can bring in any art historian he wants, and they will confirm it. Every part of it is authentic, right down to the nut wood base. I even hand mixed the paint myself. It will be another lost painting, forgotten about in someone’s attic.”

            “Now, I think you’re showing off.”

            Archie’s soft laughter fills my ear as I check my watch for the thousandth time. The hands seem to be mocking me as they creep closer to the meeting time. I look up again, just in time to see the light at the next intersection change, forcing me to stop and wait with the rest of the crowd.

            “I can’t seem to catch a break today.”

            “Relax, Willow, you have plenty of time. Did you forget that you are always annoyingly early, which means that when you’re late, you are actually on time?”

            “I don’t remember asking your opinion.”

            Shifting impatiently, I tap the toe of my Manolo Blahniks, and stare at the light. I love the shoes, but they were not my first choice. The heels are taller than I like, and harder to run in. Not ideal for a quick escape. Generally, I prefer lower heels the first time I meet with a new mark in case things go south. The Manolo Blahniks pair perfectly with the skirt and blazer that I chose for this meeting though, and are perfect for achieving the appearance of a high-end art dealer.

            Finally, the light I’ve been waiting for changes, and I move forward with the rest of the crowd, carefully dodging the deep puddle along the curb. The weather is cool for the middle of April, and rain has been more frequent than usual, leaving small pools at every crossing.

            Glancing at my watch again, I groan.

            “I told you, Twiglet, you have plenty of time. You’re only a block away, and your meeting is not for another half an hour.”

            “It’s still creepy that you always know where I am. Are you sure you weren’t a stalker in another life?”

            I always complain about Archie’s ability to low jack. He has insisted on using it since we started working together. But, just like he always knows where to find me, I always know how to find him, skills that have proved to be lifesaving during past jobs.

            “If you’re going to complain, at least do it as Piper Caldwell, British art dealer. You know how I love a good accent.”

            Laughing, I focus on my newest alias. She is the one who will be meeting with our mark. Quickly switching to a refined British accent, I reply.

            “It would never work between us, darling. I am a cultured, private dealer of the fine arts, while you, sir, are nothing more than a dirty old man.”

            His laughter is rich in my ear as I look up at the city surrounding me. To my right and left expands the endless, yellow sea of taxicabs, creating a cacophony of noise, bike messengers darting in and out of the flow like small fish. Smiling to myself, I quicken my pace as I prepare to make the leap over the last body of water, barring my way from the opposite sidewalk. With one last stride, I take off preparing to land gracefully on the sidewalk.

            Gracefully.

            Right.

            Instead of my feet finding the safety of the dry cement, they suddenly disappear from under me as I slam into a brick wall.

            Or at least that’s how it feels.

            Son of a bitch!

            I feel myself falling backwards, and there is no stopping gravity. My arms flail uselessly, and I look up just in time to meet a pair of shocked grey eyes as I splash down into the lake-sized puddle I had so artfully avoided a moment ago.

            The lake-sized puddle created from the rain and run off of the newly washed, New York City streets.

            Gross.

            Only the years of practice as a grifter allow me to firmly grasp the identity of my newest alias. Willow Hart might throw every curse word she knows at the man that landed her in this puddle, but Piper Caldwell handles these issues with dignity and grace.

            “Bloody hell!”

            Well, almost with dignity and grace.

            A pair of strong hands around my upper arms take me by surprise as I am lifted easily from the puddle, and placed back on my feet.

            “What happened? Are you okay, Willow?”

            Ignoring Archie’s questions, I glare up at the person still holding onto me, and meet the same pair of grey eyes. Grey eyes that belong to possibly the most gorgeous man I have ever seen.

            “Are you okay?” he asks, looking concerned.

            I hear him speaking to me, but my brain seems to have stopped communicating with the rest of my body. This is the first time in my adult life that I have ever been at a loss for words, and I continue to stare at him like a raccoon with a shiny object. His black hair is almost long enough to be scruffy, but his upper lip and strong, square jaw are clean-shaven.

            “Willow?”

            Continuing to ignore the voice in my ear, I gaze stupidly up at the Adonis in front of me. At five-foot-ten, it’s not often that I get to look up at people, especially when I’m wearing heels.

            “Are you ok?”

            My brain seems to have started to work again because this time I manage to nod. He looks slightly relieved, but his eyes are still crinkled in concern.

            Head moving. Check.

            “What’s your name?”

            Hmm. I should know that.

            “WILLOW!” Archie is yelling now, and I can’t help but flinch slightly at the raised volume.

            “Will- Um, will you please unhand me, Sir?”

            He hesitates for a moment before complying, but he still continues to block my path.

            “Your name?”

            This time, it’s more of a demand than a question. Straightening, I glare up at him. I hate demands, and the realization that I almost gave him my name has made me grumpy. I have never slipped before, and I have no intention of starting now. Firmly grasping Piper’s alias, I square my shoulders.

            “My name is Piper Caldwell, and I assure you, I am fine, albeit, now running late for a meeting.”

            Reaching up, I begin to comb the water out of the short, black wig that I’m wearing. I know I can salvage my hair, but the outfit is a whole other problem. My pantyhose are torn, and the black skirt is soaked and dripping down my legs. Glancing down, I see that the light blue blouse and black blazer that I’m wearing are also smattered with brown drops of water and blood. Turning my hands over, I find a shallow cut across my right palm.

            “Willow, what happened? You have twenty-five minutes before your meeting time. Will you make it?” Archie is anxious now.

            “These clothes are ruined. How am I going to pull off a complete outfit change, and be at the meeting in less than a half hour?”

            “I can take care of that. Come with me.”

            I look up in surprise as Grey Eyes takes my arm again. He pauses to assess the cut on my hand before he starts to lead me down the block at a brisk pace. For a brief moment, I had forgotten he was there as I tried to formulate a plan. Now, the feel of his hand on my arm makes me forget everything else.

            Almost.

            Get it together, Hart. He is just another guy. And a controlling one at that.

            “Where exactly are you dragging me off to? My meeting is in the other direction.”

            I try to stop moving, but he continues to propel me forward, his grasp on my arm tightening minutely, but not painfully.

            “We’re just going around the corner. I need to clean that cut, and replace your ruined outfit. Besides, you shouldn’t be walking around in wet clothes.” He looks down at me with disapproval as he continues around the corner.

            “Oh, and I suppose that is completely my fault. It could not at all be the fault of the man who stands around like a bloody brick wall.” Sarcasm comes to my rescue as my annoyance with his high-handedness carves a large chunk out of my patience.

            “Yes, it is. If you had been paying better attention to your surroundings, this would not have happened.” I glare up at him just in time to see the corner of his mouth quirk slightly.

            He’s laughing at me.

            “Of all the arrogant, high-handed, rude-”

            “Willow, focus on the plan. You’re down to twenty minutes; you can flirt some other time.”

            Archie’s reminder cuts my tirade short, and I glance down at my watch. I’m relieved to see that it is still working, but groan when I see the time. Archie is right, although that won’t save him from the flirting comment.

            “What’s wrong? Are you sure you’re not hurt?”

            I look up to see the concern is back as Grey Eyes stares down at me, almost anxiously. I’m so focused on the intensity of his gaze, and the meeting time, that it takes me a moment to realize that we have finally stopped moving.

            “I’m fine, I assure you. But, now I only have twenty minutes. My clients are very important, and I do not like to be late.”

            “Then you won’t be. Follow me.”

            He doesn’t wait for compliance with his command as he takes my arm and leads me through a set of glass doors. I have just enough time to glance up to see the name of the store before I am pulled inside.

            Louis Vuitton.

            There is a young girl sitting behind a counter when we first walk in. I guess she is only nineteen or twenty. When she spots us, she jumps up quickly, almost over balancing in her haste.

            “Mr. Ryder, what a pleasant surprise. We weren’t expecting you today.”

            So, Grey Eyes has a name.

            I study the younger girl as she hurries around the counter to greet us. She is wearing a designer suit that is slightly worn, and heels that she is not used to. She picks each step carefully, and her ankles shake slightly as she makes her way over to us. Her blond hair is shoulder length, and styled to frame her face. At first glance, she looks refined and elegant, but a closer inspection shows that she is anxious and out of place, trying hard to fit in.

            “Is there anything I can get for you, Mr. Ryder?”

            “We’re in a hurry today. I need your first aid kit, and where is Lillian?”

            “I’m right here, Darling.”

            I look up to see another woman making her way down the staircase in front of us. This woman is older, in her mid-to-late fifties. Her knee-length, black dress hugs her frame, and the pink stilettos contrast nicely with the rest of her outfit. Her brunette hair is swept up into an elegant chignon, and she is graceful as she glides up to us.

            “What can I get for you today?” She purrs at him as she approaches, draping a hand over Christopher’s arm.

            You could probably use a drool cup.

            I dip my head to hide a smile as the woman continues to fawn over Grey Eyes. I can’t say I blame her, but she is at least twenty years his senior. The younger girl has handed him the first aid kit that he requested, and he is not even looking at Lillian as he removes what he wants.

            “I don’t need anything today, Lillian; however, my associate, Miss Caldwell, has had a bit of a bad morning.” The corner of his mouth tips up slightly, and I resist the urge to swat him as he takes my right hand. He bathes the cut with an alcohol pad, making my hand jerk as the sting bites into my palm. Grey Eyes’ firm grip steadies my hand as he covers the cut with a sterile gauze pad, which he then secures with medical tape. “She needs a new outfit, and we only have about ten minutes. Five would be better.”

            She looks at him in disbelief, and I know I’m gawking slightly too.

            Lillian recovers first.

            “Of course. Come along, dear; we will get you fixed up.” Suddenly, the purring cougar is all business.

            I’m still trying to figure out what just happened as I follow Lillian up the stairs, flexing my fingers around my newly bandaged palm.

            “Step right in here, dear, and take off those wet clothes. I will be back in just a moment. Size four, yes?”

            I nod as I step into the dressing room. I have dealt with a lot of rich and powerful men over the years, but for some reason, the one downstairs manages to keep surprising me. Shaking my head, I begin to remove my ruined clothing.

            “I’m in Louis Vuitton. I ran into a man on the corner, and landed in a puddle. My clothes are ruined, but he is buying me a new outfit. I should be able to make the meeting. The people here are falling over themselves trying to get what he wants.”

            “What’s his name?”

            “The girl here called him Mr. Ryder. Hang on a second.”

            There is a knock on the dressing room door. I have just finished discarding my shredded panty hose, and I am now only in a bra and panties. Reaching over, I open the door to find Lillian waiting on the other side, her arms full.

            “Here, dear, these should work for you.”

            She starts by handing me a pair of nude, lace panties and a matching bra.

            “Put those on; then we will see about the suit.”

            Closing the door, I quickly comply. I am amazed at how well they fit. I have to admit that the woman is good at her job. Opening the door again, I find her still waiting. She scrutinizes the garments for a moment before nodding, and then hands me a skirt and jacket.

            “Hurry up, dear. We don’t want you to be late.”

            More like you don’t want to disappoint Grey Eyes.

            I glance at my watch, and then quickly take the clothes from her, before shutting the door again. Hanging the jacket, I pull on the sea-foam green, lace pencil skirt. It fits perfectly. Turning around, I quickly unbutton the jacket. It is a matching sea-foam lace that buttons up the front, and like the skirt, it fits like a glove. Reaching into my purse, I pull out a small brush and quickly fix my wig.  For the first time, I am glad that I listened to Archie and didn’t wear contacts. The green in the suit makes my natural, dark green eyes stand out more. Using my ruined clothes, I wipe off my shoes, and then, satisfied with my appearance, I open the dressing room door.

            “What do you think?”

            Lillian is still waiting outside, and nods her approval.

            “You look fantastic, dear. You can leave the ruined clothes there. I will take care of them. Now, let’s not keep Mr. Ryder waiting.”

            Turning on her heel, she heads back down the stairs; I have no choice but to follow. Glancing at my watch, I am surprised to find that the whole exchange only took seven minutes.