“Hi, Tara, very happy to be here,” Jacks said, sounding impossibly relaxed.
“So is tonight the night to cut loose and celebrate?”
“Yes, it is. It’s really an honor to see everyone out to support me.”
Maddy wondered if she might pass for Darcy’s assistant or some other type of attendant who was clearly not intended, or expected, to speak. It would be perfectly fine with her to stand silently next to Jacks like a piece of furniture until the interview was done, thank you very much. But then, without warning, Tara turned toward her.
“And who is your gorgeous date for the evening, Jacks?” No one had ever called Maddy gorgeous before. The cameraman pointed the camera at her and focused his lens. Maddy died inside.
“This is Maddy,” Jacks said, smiling.
“Well, Maddy, how are you?” Tara beamed.
“I’m . . . super,” she answered lamely. She barely got the words out, and her voice sounded strange and gravelly.
“And who are you wearing tonight? This vintage dress is so cute.” Maddy blinked. There was that question again. It was absurd. She was wearing clothes, wasn’t she? She was certainly not wearing a person.
“W-well,” she stammered, “this was my mother’s dress.”
“Oh,” Tara chirped, and raised her penciled eyebrows. “Isn’t that sweet?” Darcy made a circling motion with her finger, telling Tara to wrap it up. Tara gave a big, bleached-white smile. “Well, there you have it, ladies and gentlemen, Jackson Godspeed, the world’s most eligible young Angel, making the most of his time before he becomes Guardian Jackson Godspeed this weekend!” Tara thanked Jacks, and Maddy felt a hand on her back. Darcy led them quickly off the carpet.
As they walked through the doors of the SLS Hotel, Maddy felt her purse buzz. She discreetly pulled out her ancient flip phone and looked at it.
It was a text from Gwen. It read:
Watching the Pre-Commissioning coverage. Am I insane? Is that YOU?
Maddy felt a curl of nausea in her stomach. If Gwen had seen it, everybody had probably seen it. How was she going to explain this to her best friend? Or Kevin? Or anybody else, for that matter?
“Do you need to take that?” Jacks asked, noticing the phone.
“No, it’s nothing,” Maddy said, and quickly hid the phone back in her purse.
Darcy took a hard right at the lobby and led Maddy and Jacks into a dimly lit room lined with booths. At a folding table they were checked in and given large, empty bags.
“What’s this for?” Maddy whispered to Jacks.
“You’ll see,” Jacks said, grinning, and led her to the first booth. The station was set up in front of a wall of Nike Wings athletic shoes. The girl behind the counter was a pretty Asian in a strapless top and latex knee-high boots. She looked Jacks up and down as they approached, then leaned over and said hello with her entire body. Jacks didn’t seem to notice.
“Do you have women’s sizes?” he asked.
“Of course,” the girl said, and turned unhappily to Maddy. “What size are you, love?”
“Oh. I’m a six, but . . .” Maddy trailed off and flushed deep red. “I didn’t bring my wallet.” She couldn’t afford Nike Wings anyway. Gwen had saved up for two months last year to buy a pair. They were $250. The girl behind the counter smiled tightly as she pulled down a box and handed it to Maddy.
“They’re free, honey,” she said, smirking. Maddy took the box and looked at it. She now owned a brand-new pair of Nike Wings. Her shoes normally came from Payless. It was surreal.
Jacks smiled at the girl, who melted, and then led Maddy toward the next booth.
“Sorry,” Maddy said, impossibly embarrassed, “I didn’t realize.”
Jacks’s expression was warm. “It’s okay. I should have explained what they mean by gifting suite. Just take whatever you want.” Maddy stopped and gazed around the room. Cameras, jewelry, watches, phones, perfume, on and on and on. Every major brand name and luxury brands too.
“It’s all . . . free?”
“Of course it is.”
“B-but,” Maddy stammered, “you of all people can afford this stuff.”