“This room is amazing,” she says when she reaches us. She throws out her arm, narrowly missing an older woman, and I follow where she’s looking, to the cream-colored walls, the deep-red curtains pulled back from the windows with heavy gold rope. “I’m so happy you brought me along.”
“Why wouldn’t we?” Wes smiles down at her.
“You’re such a charmer. Oh, champagne? I want some.”
Wes spots a waiter near the dance floor. “Hold on, I’ll be right back.” He steps into the crowd and is quickly lost among the other guests.
Twenty-two and I are alone. I stare at her warily, but she just smiles and touches me lightly on the arm. “I’m so glad to be here with you, Sam. It’s been forever since we last saw each other.”
“Years, right?” I struggle to keep my voice as affectionate as hers.
“I was at your old house just last week, and your parents were asking about you.”
I can’t help but picture my own parents on the night I left, lying in their bed under their summer blanket, no idea that their only child was slipping out into the darkness.
“Don’t you miss your mother? Your father? They’re missing you terribly, you know.”
“It seems . . . like a really long time since I last saw them.”
Twenty-two steps closer. “It’ll be okay. Family is so important, but I’m here now; don’t worry. You’re not alone.”
She’s acting. This is an act. I repeat the phrase in my head, but it’s difficult to remember when she squeezes my arm, when she says the words I’ve so desperately needed to hear these past few months.
“Here you go.” Wes is back, and Twenty-two steps away, taking the glass from his outstretched hand. “What were you two talking about?”
He looks directly at me and his eyes narrow slightly. I take a shaky breath as Bea sips from her glass. “Oh, nothing,” she says. “Just about our family and how hard it is for Samantha to live so far away.”
Wes frowns, but I wave my hand in the air. “It’s fine!” My voice is overly high and I clear my throat. “I’m fine. Having Bea here reminds me of what I’m missing, that’s all.”
“Oh, cuz.” Bea smiles and reaches out to touch my arm again. “I’m happy to see you, too.”
Wes looks from her fingers against my skin to the confused expression on my face. His frown deepens, and he carefully steps between us, forcing Twenty-two to drop her arm. “Bea,” he says, his voice low. “I wanted to introduce you both to one of my business colleagues. He’s at that table over in the corner.”
She has to stand on her toes to see around the other guests, and when she spots the table holding the president her back straightens the smallest amount. She turns to smile at Wes. “I’d love to meet him.”
It is even harder to get through the crowd with three people, and we end up forming a straight line, with Wes in the front and me at the back. We pass a congresswoman, a governor from Texas, a current movie star I recognize from her file on my I-unit. I spot Tim a few feet away, holding a silver plate of hors d’oeuvres and smiling as he offers it to a simpering woman in purple silk. Her hair is up in an elaborate white twist, a large feather wrapped around her bun. It is an ostentatious hairstyle for a decade that stresses natural simplicity, and I watch Tim trying to dodge the feather as the older woman leans toward him.
There is a gap in the crowd in front of the president’s table, and we realize why when a member of the Secret Service steps forward and puts his hand on Wes’s arm. “State your name.”
“Michael Gallo. I have business with Lawrence Tierney.”
The agent looks over his shoulder. There are only men sitting at the large circular table—the first lady couldn’t attend tonight, which is part of the reason we picked this event. The president is in profile to us, laughing at a joke someone just made. He’s an attractive older man, and looks more like he’s in his early sixties than his eighties. Next to him is a small, thin man with dark hair. He glances over at us and when he sees Wes his smile widens. “Michael!”
Seeing his reaction, the agent steps back and lets us pass. Wes and I go first, with Twenty-two following closely behind.
“Tierney.” Wes puts his hand out. “It’s great to finally meet you.”
Mr. Tierney gets up from the table. He can’t be much taller than my five feet six.
“I was starting to think you were a myth.” He has a surprisingly booming voice for such a small man. “You and I are meeting tomorrow to discuss that proposal. No getting out of it this time.”
“Of course. I’ll be by your office first thing in the morning.”
“I look forward to it. I can’t believe I couldn’t even get you on video chat. It’s unheard of.”
“Who knew my I-unit wouldn’t work in Tanzania.” Wes shrugs. “We’ve been traveling so much these days, we haven’t had a chance to catch up with anyone yet. Samantha and I are exhausted.”
Tierney looks at me and his smile wavers. I tilt my head at the odd look on his face. It quickly disappears and he says politely, “Ah, right. You must be Michael’s fiancée, Samantha.”
First Mr. Lee, now Tierney. Have I done something wrong? Am I not blending in?
Tierney looks behind us and his eyes glaze over for a second. We all wait until he has finished scanning Twenty-two.
I know that our I-units are foolproof, but I still have a small moment when I tense, waiting to see if Tierney will know that Twenty-two is a fraud. It is almost impossible to fake an I-unit, and the ones you can find on the black market are mostly useless. But the Project has resources we can only imagine, and I trust that our new identities are enough to get us
