Beauty in Deception

“Is something the matter?” I ask.

She shrugs and says, “Never mind,” before walking outside.

They get into a limo with their chauffeur while another driver opens the door of a Mercedes for me. I settle in the back and take the new phone from my bag. I haven’t spoken to my sister since she came home from school. It took the stylist the whole afternoon to prepare Evie and me. No matter where I am, I never let my sister go to bed before saying goodnight.

The driver starts the engine, switches on the two-way radio, and pulls off. A car with four bodyguards goes ahead of us and another car follows behind. Evie and her parents will leave fifteen minutes after the agreed time. For safety reasons, they’ll take a different route. We’ll travel on the most direct roads from Greenside to the Stone’s mansion in Sandton where the party is taking place.

I’m tired and my feet already ache in the high heels. It’s been a busy week. We attended dinners and parties every night. Usually, I go ahead and enter through the main entrance, posing as Evie. Then, if all is safe, I slip away and am smuggled out via a backdoor while Evie is brought inside from a different entrance. During the event, I stay on standby in the car to repeat the whole procedure for the return home.

As soon as the driver takes the offramp and we’re on the dual carriageway, I call Eden. When my younger sister’s bubbly laugh greets me, I forget about my exhaustion. My heart warms at the sound. She’s always happy. It lessens the guilt of not being home to cook dinner and help her with homework.

“Hey,” I say, casting a glance at the driver in the rearview mirror. “What’s so funny?”

Personal calls aren’t permitted on the job, but the driver is one of the kinder ones who turns a blind eye.

“Something on TV,” Eden says.

“Did you do your homework?”

“Yep.” Paper crinkles in the background. “I just put the pizza in the oven.”

“Don’t burn yourself when you take it out. Will you manage?”

“I’m fifteen, not five,” she says with a full mouth.

“What are you eating?”

“Jelly babies.”

“Not before dinner, and close your mouth and swallow before you speak.”

She huffs. “Yes, Mom.”

“Don’t stay up late. It’s a school day, tomorrow.”

“’Kay.” She smacks her lips. “Have fun.”

I want to say I doubt I will, but she’s already hung up.

Leaning my head against the backrest, I remind myself why I do this, why I live someone else’s life. It’s for Eden.

We turn onto Jan Smuts Avenue, my body pushing against the door as we take the bend a bit too fast. I glance at the speedometer. We’re over the speed limit.

One of the guards’ voices comes over the two-way radio. “We’ve got a tail.”

The driver curses under his breath. “I see it.”

I tense. Turning in my seat, I try to get a glimpse from the back window, but I’m blinded by the headlights of the car behind us.

“Fuck,” someone else says. “We have one up ahead. They’re blocking the road.”

The driver cuts a look at the GPS screen on the dashboard. I follow his gaze and see what he sees. There are no sideroads between us and the car blocking the road. My mouth goes dry.

“Get down,” he says, his voice tight.

Before I can duck, an explosion rocks the car in front of us. Metal flies into the air and flames leap into the night. The driver swerves to the right. The phone drops from my hand and falls somewhere on the floor as my body is flung against the door. A sharp pain cuts into my ribs where the handle hits me. My head bounces off the window, more pain exploding in my temple. The car skids over the road and hits the concrete barrier on the side. We go into a spin, the world a merry-go-round of flames and lights as the tires lose traction and the rubber burns on the tarmac.

The nose of the car dives. I brace my face with my arms, my elbows hitting the backrest in front of me. The shock slams my head forward. My stomach climbs up in my throat as the seat momentarily disappears from under me, and then my teeth clack together as the momentum abruptly stops.

I shake my head to clear the dizziness. A copper taste fills my mouth. My tongue aches where I’ve bitten it. It takes a moment to orientate myself. We hit a ditch. The car’s nose is pointing down. We haven’t rolled.

Adrenaline fuels my body as fear runs cold then hot through my veins. The driver is slumped over the steering wheel. I lean over and shake his shoulder hard. He doesn’t move. Panic threatens to paralyze me, but I take a deep breath and try to shut off my emotions, try to think. I must focus on what I’ve been trained, because this isn’t a fire drill in Bell Warren’s basement. This is real.