“You okay?” the makeup artist asked. She was around Jill’s age and looked shell–shocked to have been witness to America’s current notorious couple locked in argument. Now that her husband was gone, Chase relaxed and was slouched in the tall chair Jack had vacated.
“I’ll be fine as soon as that man is permanently out of my life,” she replied. “Let’s finish the makeup.”
“All right, but I’m changing the plan. I’d been thinking to go for more of a glamorous look, with a smoky eye. Now I’m going simple, girl next door.”
“You can do that?”
“Sure. I could even give you a black eye, but that’d be overkill.”
“No one would believe it. I’ve been out of my marriage for more than a month. My bruises have faded.”
“The exteriors ones, sure,” the young woman said in a voice that made Jill think she knew a little something about abuse.
She didn’t want to push or even act as confessor, but it hammered home her conviction that something had to be done for the women suffering in silence. She settled on giving the woman’s wrist a gentle, sympathetic squeeze and relaxed back in the chair to get her face painted.
“My uncle used to knock around my aunt, my mom’s sister,” the makeup artist said. “Finally when I was thirteen, she left him and came to live with us. I remember some ugly nights with him trying to bang down our front door.” She gave a short laugh. “Luckily, my dad played football in college and got rid of the guy.”
“Your aunt was lucky to have him.”
“Yep. Close your eyes.”
The tickle of a makeup brush flowed across her eyelids and for the next few minutes Jill was silent until finally all the soft touches to her face stopped.
“All done.”
Her lashes fluttered open to a mirror that was shoved a few inches in her face. “Wow.”
“Nice, right? You’ve got great bone structure.”
“Thanks.” She didn’t know anything about her great bone structure. What she did know was the makeup artist had made her look luminous. She recognized herself in the mirror, but it was a fresher, prettier version of herself. She wanted to learn how to do this makeup on her own. She wished Rowan were here so he could see her, but he’d see her on television, and that would have to be enough.
“You’re welcome.”
She grasped the woman’s wrist. “I don’t even know your name.”
“Andrea.”
“I’m Jill. Nice to meet you.”
Andrea laughed. “I know you’re Jill.
Everyone
knows you’re Jill Thompson. We’ve all been excited to meet the woman brainwashed by the cyborgs.” She whispered the word and glanced sideways at Chase who pretended not to hear, though Jill knew he probably heard every word.
“Cyborgs?”
That’s what we call The Program soldiers around here. That or Terminator.
She hadn’t known that the American public saw Rowan and his colleagues as robots. She didn’t like that impression and had to correct it. She wondered if Loren knew or Commander Shepard. If not, she had to tell them and help them correct the mistake. If the world saw the soldiers as robots or something less than human, they’d be treated like that. “They’re not cyborgs. They’re men. Normal men who are a little stronger and faster than most. That’s all.” She smiled at Chase who grinned back.
“Really?” Andrea sounded doubtful.
“I swear, and I wasn’t brainwashed. I ran to them hoping they’d protect me from Jack. They wanted to kick me out.”
“Save it for the camera,” Andrea advised. “You’re about to go on. I need to get you to the producer.”
“Already?” She looked at the door to the small room, but Loren and crew weren’t there yet.
“Let’s go,” Andrea said, but at that moment, a harried looking young man with a headset over one ear burst in.
“Is this her? She ready? Good,” he said without waiting for a response. “Let’s go.”
He grabbed Jill by the elbow and hurried her out the door with Chase on their heels. She struggled to find her composure and her bravery. She could do this. All she had to do was tell her story the way she’d practiced with Loren and Samara, and people would believe her. Andrea the makeup artist had. Then again, she’d had a personal history with an abusive man. Unfortunately lots of people did. Would it be enough to sway public perception in her favor? She hoped.
She and the producer hurried down a hallway and were about to step out on set, carefully stepping under cameras and over cords.
“Jill,” Loren said and hurried toward her. “You look gorgeous.”
“Thanks. Where’ve you been?”
“Sorry, we got caught up in the green room. Everything okay?”
She pulled her arm out of Loren’s strong grip. “Yeah, except for my encounter with Jack.”
Loren froze in place and her eyes widened. “What happened? You weren’t supposed to be alone with him.”
“I know, but it happened. I saw him in the makeup room.”
A torrent of apologies flooded from Loren. “Jill, I’m so sorry. I had no idea he’d be near you. I’m glad my brother was there.”
She stayed the babble of words with a hand on Loren’s shoulder. “It’s okay. I mean, at first when I saw him, I nearly bolted, but now…I’m okay. I think this will work better.”
“Really?”
“Yes. And you know what? I think it’s going to feel good to tell the truth about what an abusive jackass he is with him sitting there.”
“Are you sure?”
She nodded. “Almost therapeutic.” She actually found a small laugh, something she’d never thought she could manage when thinking about her husband.
Loren looked worried, but she finally stepped back. “Okay. It’s a live interview, but don’t be afraid to walk off. Xander is standing right there.” She pointed to the center camera where Xander stood like an immobile column, making the cameraman carefully sidestep him. Both Xander and Chase wore low–brimmed hats and subtle disguises hiding their features. They took no chances that their images could be captured on camera. “Jack won’t touch you without the guys stopping him.”
She waved at Xander who nodded. She’d never thought she’d be so happy to see the stern, kind of scary man who was Emma’s match.
“Ms. Thompson?” The male producer from before waved her over to a group of crew members. “We need to mike you and do a sound check.”
She gave an impulsive hug to Loren who returned the hug. “You look gorgeous. Rowan’s gonna die when he sees you on camera.”
“I hope not. I need my man alive and well.” They both laughed, and she hurried off to the waiting crew who manipulated a tiny microphone pack and clip onto her borrowed outfit. Thea had come through again with the perfect wrap dress that made her look womanly yet professional at the same time.
They’d spent a lot of time arguing about having Jill go on in her regular jeans and sweater to emphasize the point that she’d run from home with the clothes on her back. Loren worried the message would get lost in translation. She wasn’t sure what that meant in media speak, but she was determined to let it slip that tonight’s dress was borrowed, and that she had no money for clothes like this, and had never had money for clothing thanks to Jack’s controlling nature.
Once she was sufficiently accessorized for sound, the producer guided her to the set and sat her in a plush armchair closest to Ronna’s. On her right sat the relationship doctor and Jack sprawled in the last seat on the end. She smiled nervously at the doctor who smiled back and then released a weird series of vocalizations that had her fighting back a giggle.
Just then Ronna swept on set, like the reigning queen she was, and addressed them. “I’m looking forward to tonight. Live television is exciting, and I want you all to relax and pretend you’re in my living room and we’re going to have a nice conversation. Okay?”
All three guests nodded, though Jill could tell she wasn’t alone in the doubtful corner. Maybe someday when she was old and gray she could have a conversation with Jack, but after six years of pretending to get along, she was done. There wasn’t an ounce of energy left in her for pretense. She blinked as hot bright lights flashed on and blared their way. A man stepped forward to announce they were live in three, two…”
* * * * *
“Rowan, it’s time to go to the main office,” Adam said, giving him a small shove in his shoulder.
He gave another push to the flat black plate pushing the weights away from his knees. “Okay. I’m ready. Let’s go. I need to grab my hoodie first.” He and Adam had come to the gym following dinner hoping to speed time up before the big interview.
“Already done.” Adam shoved the black fleece at his arm and averted his eyes as Rowan struggled into it. Thirty years together and Adam was never going to like watching his baby brother struggle with tasks toddlers did with ease. Tough shit. He had one arm and no amount of whining would change the situation.
They walked side–by–side out of the workout room, out into the hallway, then out into the cool night air. Steam rose off their sweaty faces, and he could practically feel his damp hair freezing.
“How you doing with all this?” Adam asked. “Loren said you were pretty pissed.”
He took a moment to think about it. “I’m not angry about the interview. I was angry she hid it from me.”
“Understandable.”
Finally he asked what he’d been worried about all day. “Did Shep force her?”
“Nobody forced Jill into anything. The whole thing was her idea.”
“What?”
His
Jill requested an interview with Ronna Woods? Not likely.
“Yeah, she came to Loren a few days ago with the idea. Loren’s been getting her camera ready.”
“That’s what she said. I’m just having a hard time believing it. I wish I could be there. I want to kick Jack’s butt again.”
“Don’t freak out. Xander and Chase are there on guard. No one’s getting to her with those two watching. You think I’d let Loren out of my sight if I thought there was a chance of danger?” Adam asked, when Rowan still hadn’t said anything.
Finally he found his voice. “She didn’t say a word,” he managed. “All these nights I was getting off on her happiness thinking she’d found female friends to hang out with. It was bullshit. She lied to me.” He turned to his brother. “Why? Why did she lie to me?” His heart felt as if it had been removed, run over with a lawn mower and shoved back into his chest. He’d thought he’d been okay with Jill’s deception, but as the time got closer to her big TV debut, bitterness crept in.
“She didn’t lie exactly. She just didn’t tell you where she was going.”
“Why would she do that?”
“Because she knew you’d try to stop her.”
“No, I wouldn’t have.”
Adam didn’t respond. He looked at him with lifted brows and waited.
Sometimes it sucked to have a brother who knew you better than you knew yourself. “Yeah, I would’ve tried to stop her,” he admitted. “Getting an off–campus job was one thing. Going on camera and setting herself up as a target for the wrath of America…” He shook his head slowly, now letting his anger ebb and his concern flow.
“Let’s go watch her. See how she does.” Adam suggested. He turned toward the main office, and Rowan noticed a steady stream of soldiers also making their way there. He and Adam joined the pack.
When they arrived in the large conference room, they pushed their way ahead, scoring seats right in front of the large flat–screen television Gavin was setting up.
“Hockey’s on 520,” someone called from the back.
“Caps are playing tonight for a play–off spot,” someone else said.
Rowan knew none of the men expected to watch hockey, but he appreciated the everyday banter and camaraderie. It relaxed him that he could pretend this was any other night and any other show; that his match wasn’t about to spill secrets on national television.
The screen flashed to a still photo of Jill and Jack with a headline teaser about the show starting in two minutes. They sat through a seemingly endless reel of commercials before the opening music to Ronna Wood’s program sounded. “Turn up the volume,” he ordered Gavin who hastily complied.
He watched wide–eyed, barely breathing as Ronna Woods ran through her opening monologue giving the history of The Program and the briefer history of Jill’s running away from her marriage.
“We’ve all heard Jack Thompson’s story, about his runaway wife, kidnapped and brainwashed by the country’s controversial military branch, known as The Program. And now for the first time, I have his wife, Jill Thompson, with me tonight ready to share her side of the story,” Ronna Woods said with the camera on a close–up of her face. Then the camera flashed to a close–up of Jill, but it was Jill as he’d never seen her. Makeup covered her face and she looked poised and confident in front of the camera.
“Breathe,” Adam leaned over to whisper. “Loren said she’s great.”
He had no idea whether he followed Adam’s advice about breathing. For the next thirty minutes, almost no one spoke or fidgeted as Ronna Woods interviewed Jill and Jack. He’d stood to drive down to DC the second he’d seen Jack on the set with Jill, but Adam tugged him back into his chair. Though he looked worried, too. “I hate that the ex–husband’s there,” he muttered, then bent over his phone presumably to text either Loren, Xander or Chase, the others on the scene.
“How did The Program contact you the first time?” Ronna Woods asked Jill. “Did they know you were a match from public medical records?”
Rowan smiled as Jill said strongly, “They didn’t contact me. I contacted them.”
“You did?” Ronna feigned surprised emotion. She already knew the backstory from her phone meetings with Loren. “Why?”
“I had to, Ronna,” Jill said, leaning forward speaking to the newscaster as if they were confidential friends. “I needed a safe place to go. I’d been stuck in an abusive marriage for six years, and I was scared if I didn’t get out, Jack would kill me.”
Even professional Ronna Woods seemed stunned at that proclamation, but she gathered her composure and got out the next question even as Jack protested loudly from his seat. Rowan wanted to hug Jill and cheer as she shot Jack a shut–the–hell–up look and answered Ronna’s question calmly. “The first time he hit me was a week after our wedding. The beatings continued at least once a month every year after.”