Page 75 of Spies Like Us

“Fine,” I agree, and we’re quiet for a little while before I take a deep breath and blurt out, “While I have you here, there’s something I want to talk to you about.”

She was looking out the window, but she turns to face me. “Oh?” She sounds wary.

“I’m thinking of giving up my ghost status and joining Team Basilisk.” I let the words rush out before I can stop and think. If I do, I might not say them.

She heaves out a sigh. “Damn it, Kensington, I owe Dad a thousand pounds now. I thought you’d at least hold out until six weeks after the mission was over.” She pulls out her phone and tries to send another message, but I snatch it out of her hands.

“What do you mean?” I demand, and she looks at me with knowing eyes.

“Babe, we knew this was a limited career option, and I knew after that awful one you finished prior to this that you were almost ready to throw in the towel. Why do you think you were suddenly assigned a team assessment you had never had to do before?” she asks. “We all knew it was just a matter of you coming to the realization yourself. I’m almost certain your mother has been praying daily for your birth control to fail and for you to become pregnant since you joined your new team, so you’d give up spying altogether.”

I shudder at the suggestion and shake my head violently. “I’m afraid she’s going to be waiting a very long time. I am not cut out to be a parent.”

“Amen, sister.” She holds her hand up for a high five. Our mothers are really going to be so disappointed in the girls they produced. We giggle, but her eyes turn serious.

“Are you happy?” she asks, and I don’t even have to think about it.

“Yes. It’s new, and who knows if any of it will work out once the mission is over, but it has made me realize that I’m ready for something for me. I’m ready to attempt to have feelings and to put my heart on the line, and if it gets kicked to the curb, I know I’m strong enough to pick it back up and try again.”

She reaches forward and gives my hand a squeeze. “I’m happy for you. Now, before we play dress-up, there is something else I need to talk to you about.” She’s serious again, and I brace myself for what she’s about to tell me.

Chapter 34

The two hour flight passes in no time, and after a heavy conversation with my cousin, I’m ready to have a few drinks and blow off some steam. Princess Kensington Watson is ready to party.

I stare at myself in the mirror, happy with the way my wig looks. You can’t even tell it’s not my real hair, and unless I get into a hair pulling, nail scratching fight, then everything should be fine. Hell, it might be fine even if we do, because the glue Katie used to stick it on was powerful shit. Luckily we have some remover for tomorrow afternoon when I return to Georgia.

I have on a pair of designer jeans that haven’t even hit the shop floor yet thanks to our connections with the designer. She loves having us wear her clothes. It’s good publicity, so she sends us free things. The long-sleeved top is designer too. New York is a little cooler than Georgia, and it’s later in the year. The leaves are turning, and the days are getting shorter. I have a cashmere designer coat over all of it and a pair of funky black ankle boots with cute buckles to set it all off.

“Darling, you look amazing,” Katie says in the posh accent she uses in her Lady Katherine Watson persona. Like me, she also changed, but instead of jeans, she’s wearing a pair of designer leggings tucked into a fabulous pair of knee-high boots, with a long-sleeved, off the shoulder designer top in green and a long, knee-length, camel-colored knitted cardigan.

We carry our things off the plane, waving to Ben and climbing into the waiting limo. We drive from the private air strip on MITHOS grounds and into Manhattan, stopping at the Plaza to drop off our things. We then catch a taxi to a trendy little cafe in Soho to catch up with our “friends.”

Air kisses and fake compliments are exchanged, the only one I genuinely feel happy to see is my cousin Kamel. He and I have a love-hate relationship—mostly love unless he did something to piss off my grandfather and he’s in trouble, which happens quite often. Usually it involves women and him being indiscreet, then he gets annoyed and calls me the golden child.

“Kan jidiy yas’al eanka. mataa satati lilziyarati?” he says to me in Arabic. Grandfather was asking about you. When are you coming to visit?

“Qrybaan,” I reply. Soon.

He nods approvingly. “Jid, sawf yuzil baed aldaght eani.” He grimaces, and I roll my eyes. Good, it will take some pressure off me.

I guess he did something again that is going to get him yelled at, and guessing by the very young blond-haired, blue-eyed beauty attached to his arm like a leech, I’m assuming she has something to do with it.

Lunch goes for hours, and it’s almost five when we arrive back at the hotel. I’m freaking exhausted, but we can’t stop now. We eat a quick meal delivered to us by room service before getting ready. The dress Katie provided for me is a long, emerald, sleeveless sheath that hugs my body from neck to ankle. It shimmers and sparkles in the light as I slip on a pair of four-inch silver heels and some matching platinum diamond and emerald earrings. The neckline doesn’t allow for a necklace, so I slip a diamond and emerald tennis bracelet onto my wrist and a matching ring on my middle finger.

I had my full range of makeup to work with, and I look nothing like the emo goth teen from Summerville, Georgia. You could hold a photo of each covers side by side and still not tell it’s the same person. I removed my long-term contacts, so my eyes are their normal deep blue color, and my wig is my natural shade of golden blonde.

Are you ready?” Katie asks, holding a black clutch in her hand. Her siren red dress is short and sexy, and she paired it with black, sky-high heels.

“Yup, let’s do this. I’m looking forward to seeing Mom and Dad.” It’s a short ride to the Met from the Plaza in the limo. We could have walked it if we weren’t wearing heels. Lights flash as I take the proffered hand and carefully climb out of the vehicle, holding my skirt so the large split in it doesn’t expose everything to the photographers.

I look up and blink with surprise when, instead of the driver, I find my dad standing there. “Hi.” He grins before leaning in and kissing my cheek.

“Dad!” I give him a hug, and we move out of the way, letting Uncle T step up and do the same thing for his daughter. She’s just as surprised as I am, and the two men chuckle with delight that they managed to surprise us.

“Come on, your mothers are waiting inside,” Dad tell us, gesturing for us to make our way up the red carpet. Photographers catcall, trying to get our attention, and Katie and I, ever the pros stop, once or twice and strike a pose so they can get their glamor shot for whatever gossip magazine they work for.

We’re halfway to the door when another limo pulls up behind us and the cameras turn their focus to it. I turn to look, and out steps a man who looks familiar, but I don’t know why.

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