Distortion

No sooner had they stepped into the glow of the chandeliers than Lauren was back in her element. She handed her mink coat to the cloakroom attendant, dusting off the snow, adjusted her dress, and turned to Barnes. “The ring?” she extended her hand. “Is that necessary?” He rummaged in his jacket pockets. Lauren answered him with a sigh, slipping her hand into the inner pocket of the man’s jacket. She pulled out a pair of gold rings and put one on her left hand. “Put it on,” the girl placed the second ring in his palm. “Don’t make me put it on you.” “Not what I expected from marriage.” “At least put your arm around me,” Lauren gestured with her shoulder, smiling at someone. James placed a hand on the small of her back, feeling the hot skin of her exposed back. Lauren gave a slight shiver at his touch, leading them toward the buffet table. She looked over her shoulder at the man, leaning toward a champagne flute. “Act natural,” she whispered, handing him one of the flutes. “I’m not used to socializing as a couple,” Barnes, hesitating, removed his hand from the girl’s waist. “Lauren,” a voice very close to them took them by surprise. The girl, gripping the stem of her flute tightly, looked at the uninvited conversationalist. “Didn’t expect to see you here.” “Mr. Kuybert,” she beamed a radiant smile. “Yes, we accepted the invitation at the last moment. A free evening opened up in my husband’s schedule.” “James Barnes,” the man extended his hand. “Thank you for the invitation.” “You’d be hard-pressed to find someone who doesn’t know you,” Kuybert—a pleasant middle-aged man with silver in his beard—shook his hand. “I thought your wedding to Lauren would be the talk of the town.” “We decided to forgo the fanfare,” Lauren gently touched James’s shoulder. “It wasn’t so simple.” “I won’t trouble you further,” the guest turned, waving to someone. “Mr. Klimov has already noticed you.” “We should greet him,” Lauren took James by the elbow, her red nails digging into the fabric of his jacket. “Open your mouth at least occasionally.” “Why, when I have you?” Barnes smirked at the fierce glance the girl shot him. “Mr. Klimov, thank you for the invitation.” “Thank my assistants who compiled the guest list,” the sturdy, tall man in a dark green suit laughed heartily, shaking James’s hand. “They clearly deserve a bonus, though I imagine they’re paid well enough,” Lauren smiled, inclining her head. “You, as always, are perceptive and beautiful,” Klimov gently shook the girl’s hand. “No matter how many years pass, your beauty does not fade.” “We just don’t see each other that often,” Lauren straightened up from the burning sting of a truth she refused to acknowledge. “We won’t keep you,” Barnes, sensing the tension radiating from Lauren, decided to end their dialogue. “There are many others wishing to speak with you.” “Or to drink at my expense,” Klimov laughed heartily again, unbuttoning his jacket. “In any case, I judge no one, otherwise I wouldn’t organize all this.” Exchanging pleasantries, Lauren and James returned to the buffet to plan their next move. The girl, draining her glass in one gulp, looked around for a new one. Barnes handed her a flute, noticing how easily and organically she looked in her red dress among the milky Russian monograms adorning the hall. Thin straps outlined her prominent collarbones; her body seemed fragile, almost ephemeral, but only he knew how much strength resided in those muscles moving under her pale skin. “Are you listening?” Lauren touched his hand, enveloping them in the heavy, sweet eastern scent of her perfume. “Say that again?” James lifted his eyes, meeting the heavy gaze of the girl’s gray eyes. “Get it together,” she said quietly, taking a step closer. “I’m on good terms with one of Klimov’s assistants, who got us the last-minute invitation. He’ll take me upstairs to the office, and you’ll create the impression that I’m somewhere here, or that I’ve stepped away to the ladies' room.” “Why not the other way around?” Barnes wanted to step back to create distance between them but knew it would be a losing move. He watched her lips, trying not to get lost in his own thoughts. “Russians trust very few, you should know,” her sly smile brought him back to the moment, made him hear the muffled sounds around them. “Fine,” James looked around. “Where is he?” “He’ll meet me near the ladies' room,” Lauren put the still almost-full glass back on the table. She pressed against the man, placing a hand on his shoulder, pretending to kiss his cheek. “Don’t say anything unnecessary.” “Just small talk about the weather, got it,” Barnes, accidentally burying his nose in the girl’s hair, touched her waist. Lauren walked with a soft step toward the corridor where the ladies' room and the service stairs to the upper floor were located. Touching the cold stone of the wall, Lauren tried to cool the heat, whether from the chandelier lamps or from their close conversation with James. “Let’s go,” Mark—an old acquaintance of Lauren’s—peeked out from around the corner and nodded. “Thanks for agreeing,” the girl, trying not to let her heels click on the marble stairs, hurried after the young man. “Save the pleasantries for the guests,” Mark led her into a second-floor office. “Sorry,” as soon as the heavy oak door closed behind them, Lauren took an envelope of money from her clutch. “You only accept this kind of pleasantry, I know.” “You really married the Winter Soldier?” Leaning against the doorframe, Mark tucked the money into his vest’s inner pocket. “No, of course not,” Lauren shrugged, pressing the button on the locator module, listening for the soft beep. “Not sure that’s possible with my job.” “Even free birds have a flock,” the young man crossed his arms. “What nonsense?” Lauren smirked, opening another drawer in the desk. “Been collecting proverbs? People like me don’t usually live to old age. You have a family?” “I’m like a lone wolf,” Mark rested the back of his head against the door, listening for sounds from the corridor. “On my own.” “Right, and you don’t work in a circus,” Lauren rummaged through the papers. “Found it.” She hid the module in her clutch, closed the drawers, and blindly reapplied her lipstick. They stepped out into the corridor and returned downstairs the same way, quietly saying goodbye at the stairs. Lauren, standing under an arch in the shadows, looked at the bright hall full of guests she didn’t want to rejoin. She thought she didn’t belong to this world, even though she masqueraded in it. Lauren again pondered how living in the woods would be the height of her dreams, when a voice right by her ear brought her back to reality. “So?” James stood beside her, shielding her from the light of the chandeliers and the gossiping guests. “Got it,” she nervously licked her lips, hoping Klimov wouldn’t notice the theft immediately. “We need to leave gracefully, I take it?” Barnes looked over his shoulder at the girl hiding in his shadow. “You’re a quick learner,” Lauren straightened up, smiling again. “Have a couple more drinks, say goodbye to everyone, and leave as the most beautiful couple of the evening.” “You’re asking a lot of us,” James sighed, extending his hand to the girl.