CHAMELEON

THIRTEEN.

Cameron walked as calmly as she could manage into the ballroom her parents were hidden in. Multiple staff members of the facility offered her champagne that she waved away, her other hand with a death grip on her dress so that she didn't make a fool of herself in heels. She knew it wouldn't be logical to complain to Nixon that she gown wasn't tailored to her usual liking.

She stepped inside and surveyed the room with a quick sweep. Movement attracted her attention to her right, bringing her eyes directly to Boyce. She took long breath and sauntered over to the table beside where he was standing. She placed her clutch beside the extravagant floral arrangement and pretended to dig for a lipstick.

"Darn thing, hard to find," she said aloud, then plucked the lipstick out with a dramatic amount of satisfaction, "Found it. Safe and sound."

Boyce maintained his disengaged stare.

Cameron dabbed as much colour on her lips as she dared to without a mirror and then tossed the lipstick back into her bag, snapping it shut. She politely smiled at Boyce and went on her way, silently yearning to find Brett and explain herself.

She had barely taken a few steps when her mother stepped directly into her line of sight. Patricia, dressed head to toe like a movie star, leaned in to kiss her on the cheek and whisper a harsh, "Give me one good reason not to get your father involved in whatever it is you're up to,"

Cameron recoiled and held her mother's elbows to keep her at arms-length.

"Because everything is fine and today is too important to cause any issues," she said with a tight-lipped smile. Cameron would be damned if she messed the night up. It was John Marshall's final public outing before the big vote. In a few days she could possibly be the daughter of the party leader. Get in the middle of that? Hell no.

"Well then why are you walking around without security?" Patricia managed to lace her tongue with venom while politely smiling at people walking past, and Cameron decided she should be afraid of her mother's skill.

"Got lost coming in. Problems solved. Now who is...oh!" Cameron rushed past her to wrap someone in a hug, "How lovely to see you again. Mother, look who it is,"

Cameron offered a real grin this time, as Patricia cocked one perfectly trimmed eyebrow.

Brett spent half of the evening watching Cameron and the other half trying to not get caught watching her. He watched her be twirled around the dance floor by many different types of men, throw her head back in fake laughter, and blend into the crowd of expensive gowns and custom tuxedos. He felt his face tighten when he noticed her squeezing a champagne glass with a death grip. She politely sipped at it throughout the evening, and he assumed it was in case somebody were willing to count how many she consumed. Her body language suggested that if nobody were watching she may down a whole bottle.

Brett scoffed at the idea and then tried to brush off the act like it was a cough. One quick glare from Boyce across the room silently told him to get himself together. But how was he supposed to maintain focus? Within less than two months he had come across a woman that was smart, witty, and matched his sexual preferences like she was designed for him. Yet she had run away from him at every possible chance and managed to weave him into a secret life. He couldn't really blame her for the fact that he requested to be a permanent part of security detail, but he was pissed enough to add it to the list.

Not very smooth, he thought to himself.

"I would like some fresh air," a voice beside him announced.

Thankfully, Brett maintained composure in front of the man staring him down. Nodding silently, Brett allowed himself to be lead out of the ballroom and towards a back door. He gave another curt nod to the agent stationed by the door and followed John Marshall into a secluded garden behind the building. A quick sweep, and he decided they were alone.

"Would you like one?" John gestured towards him with a cigar in his hand, and Brett could tell by the smell it was high quality. So were his lungs, however, and the cigar wouldn't help with that. He was also relatively aware he might be a few minutes away from losing some other body parts.

"No thank you, Sir."

John leaned back comfortably against a column and took a long drag, his eyes never leaving Brett's face. Brett stared right back.

He felt like a teenager picking up a date for the prom. Or caught trying to sneak a blowjob behind the school bleachers.

"Agent...Simmons, right?" he asked with a tilt of his head.

Brett stiffened.

"That's correct, Sir."

John waved his hand around, creating a little circle of smoke.

"Please, leave the formalities for the listening ears. Just John," he prompted.

Brett didn't feel much more comfortable.

"Of course," he lied.

"Did I hear correctly that you may be joining Boyce's team permanently?"

Brett felt his eyebrows shoot to the sky. It wasn't very typical for someone of his standard to give a damn about who wore the suit following him around. Although, his family had many atypical characteristics. He also wanted to sneer at the idea that he would be reporting to Boyce, who happened to be on his current shit list.

"The referral has been sent. The rest is out of my hands."

John nodded once and stood for a few long minutes, casually taking puffs and blowing them to the side.

"Do you have family around here?"

Brett found himself startled once again.

"Pardon?"

John took another drag before answering him.

"We could be looking at a lot of travelling soon. Would you be able to leave things behind here to be a part of that?"

The election. Fuck, Brett thought. The man must be a nervous wreck and yet he presented himself with an eerie sense of nonchalance.

"My family understands my schedule," he said honestly. It was just a sister and a mother to leave behind, and they only saw him monthly at most. He was busy, and his sister was still in school.

"No wife waiting for you to come home?"

"No, none of that."

John Marshall tossed the other half of the cigar into a marble ash tray.

"Time to get back," he said with a small amount of pep, as if having thrown himself back into socialization mode.

Before he knocked on the door to be opened he paused. Without turning around he said, "I appreciate you escorting my daughter today. It is so easy to get lost in a place like this."

Brett remained silent as he followed him back to the entertainment, pretty certain he knew a threat when he heard one.