Raising Avon, Page 4

  ****

  Thirty minutes before leaving for the party Avon and Jeremy exited their respective bedrooms and entered the living room. Both were dressed for the party. Avon was stunning in her ivory gown. The shoes and clutched had been dyed perfectly to accent the dress. Avon's makeup was perfect for an evening outing, heavier than she wore during the day. Her long pale blonde hair was down and the loose curls cascaded below her shoulders perfectly framing her face. She did look like a princess. She was beautiful.

  Avon stared at Jeremy, equally impressed. While he was quite striking in his normal black ICE uniform, he looked amazing in his dress uniform. The black fabric accented with the golden colored stripes and echelons turned his sandy brown hair almost a golden color. He always carried himself with a hit of arrogance but his dress uniform made him look taller than his six foot one inch body. While not her date, he would give the other girls a reason to wag their tongues. It would prove to be an interesting night.

  "Let me straighten your tie," Avon offered as she walked towards him. "It's just a little off. Daddy has the same problem."

  Jeremy smiled as she reached up. When she stepped back, she smiled. "You look perfect," she whispered.

  "Thank you," he replied and then paused. "I'm sorry about this morning."

  "Me too," Avon whispered.

  Jeremy held out his arm and Avon took it. Together they walked out of the apartment. Waiting for them at the curb of the building was the General's transport. "Is it legal for us to use this?" Jeremy gasped as the door automatically opened.

  "I'm going as the General's daughter, so yes it is legal. You are my escort for the evening, so yes it is legal."

  Minutes later, they were walking into the ballroom of ICE HQ. Eyes turned towards them; some staring. "Us or you?" Jeremy asked leaning towards Avon's ear.

  "Probably a bit of both," Avon answered through her smile. "Maybe we should have made a small wager on how many minutes will elapse before one of us gets a call from Daddy."

  Jeremy continued to smile as he looked around the room. He wondered who their Judas would be. "So you do hate me?"

  "Maybe the dress was a bit much. But it's too late now," she continued to smile as she saw her father's superior walking their way. "Let me handle it."

  Both stopped walking as the Commanding General of ICE approached. "General Armstrong," Avon smiled and extended her hand. Jeremy immediately stood at attention. General Armstrong was half human and half Tarian. His body human while his head was Tarian with pointed ears and lizard-like eyes. He had only four finger-like appendages on each hand with long black talon-like nails. His complexion was dark brown, almost black. While only six foot tall, he was formidable; almost scary.

  General Armstrong looked towards Jeremy. "Captain Hanson."

  Jeremy snapped to attention. "Sir."

  "Cadet Zadoorian," General Armstrong stated as a hello and then stepped back and took a good look at Avon and the dress she was wearing. "It appears you've grown up since last summer. I guess that happens at the Academy." The tone clearly showed he did not approve. "I had hoped to see you in your dress uniform."

  "I was told the dress code was optional for cadets," Avon rebutted while standing tall and resolute.

  "So it is. However, your classmates in attendance are in uniform," he retorted with disdain. "You may want to remember your new status. You represent ICE now, not your father."

  Avon did not blink, but she could feel her stomach clench tightly. Her wish to be seen as someone other than her father's plus one had backfired. She snapped to attention and stayed there. "At ease Cadet," General Armstrong told her and then turned on his heel and walked away.

  "Oh shit," Avon muttered pulling Jeremy out of the middle of the entrance way. "I am in trouble aren't I?"

  "It could have been worse," Jeremy quickly surmised. "He didn't order you to go home and change."

  Avon fought to swallow; her mouth completely dry. She could feel her chest tighten and stress course down her arms. She licked her lips and tried to smile. Failing, she forced herself to take a deep cleansing breath. After inhaling again, she muttered, "I might as well enjoy the rest of the night. It looks like it will be my last one to have fun."

  "Avon, please..." Jeremy started as he fought to find the right words and not alienate her. "Please try not to cause any more trouble. As your escort, I will be guilty by association. You're still a cadet. I'd like to keep my commission a few more hours."

  Avon looked around the room as if looking for a place to hide or maybe a friendly face. "I see a few of my girlfriends," Avon smiled gazing across the room at two girls she had grown up with. "Would you mind getting us something to drink?"

  Jeremy did not argue. He needed a moment to collect himself. He nodded and walked away. Avon darted across the room to her friends. One of the girls was the daughter of an ICE science officer; the other the daughter of a Senator. The three had been introduced at a young age at a military function. Together they had grown up reuniting at party after party. "Cleo, Susan," Avon called out as she got closer.

  "Damn girl," Susan replied hugging Avon. "What's with the dress? And what's with the gorgeous hunk of Captain?"

  "It's the last civilian dress I'll ever wear, so I decided to go all out."

  "Well, it is all hanging out," Cleo laughed looking at the low cut and revealing neckline. "It's a good thing you still have a youthful figure unlike Susan over here who has boobs for days."

  "Thanks Cleo for reminding me I still don't fill out a training bra."

  "So tell me about your date," Susan begged.

  "He's not my date. He's my appointed escort. Daddy picked him out for me. He's my babysitter for the summer."

  "Do you think your daddy will pick out a babysitter for me? Your Captain is yummy."

  The three looked over at Jeremy, who had just turned around. All three giggled. "He is cute," Avon commented. "But he's not my type. He is a by the book, career soldier."

  "I'll take him if you don't want him," Cleo purred. "I could use a career soldier to take care of me."

  Avon stared at Cleo. Cleo was a military brat. All she knew was the military. She had been checking out eligible ICE bachelors since her sixteenth birthday hoping to snag herself an officer. "I don't think he is looking for a wife and children yet," Avon whispered. "All he cares about is his next assignment and next promotion."

  "I can work with that," Cleo purred again.

  Jeremy approached slowly, afraid to interrupt the conversation. He was afraid they were talking about him. And he was more afraid of what they might be saying. Reaching the three he held out a glass of punch. Avon took it and took a sip. "Virgin punch? Really, Captain Hanson?"

  "I know you're old enough to drink," Jeremy stated somberly. "But I've already been warned. You get into any trouble tonight, rather any more trouble; it's my head on a pike."

  "You've already heard from Daddy?"

  "Something like that," Jeremy grimaced. "Word travels fast in this galaxy."

  "So I guess escaping from here and going clubbing is out of the question," Cleo joked.

  "Not even funny," Jeremy replied seriously.

  "Well, if you change your mind handsome," Cleo purred. "Here's my card." Cleo reached out and touched the tip of her pinky with Jeremy's effectively loading her contact information into his interface.

  "We should mingle," Jeremy advised Avon. "We need to try to gain back a few of the brownie points we've lost and we've only been here ten minutes. It's going to be a long night."

  Jeremy led Avon away from her friends. "Your friends are a bit brazen," Jeremy quipped.

  "Cleo is just looking for a husband. Someone to continue the lifestyle she been raised in."

  "Is that what you're looking for?"

  "A husband or the lifestyle?"

  "Both."

  Avon pondered for a moment before answering. "I'm not s
o worried about the lifestyle. A comfortable home with a man who loves me is all I would need. But am I looking for a husband? No. I have three more years at the Academy and then six years of obligated service. I think I'll be busy for a few years."

  "So you're not a career soldier?"

  "Not today. Not in this dress," Avon smirked. "Apparently I don't fit the mold they have. I guess I'm a bit of a nonconformist. Sorry, I got you into trouble."

  "I'm not in trouble. Not really. But if you do anything stupid, I will be charged with conduct unbecoming an officer. So please Avon remember, it's both our asses on the line."

  "Yes sir, Captain Hanson," Avon mocked.

  "You seem to have a few of the younger officers staring at you tonight," Jeremy whispered, looking around the ballroom. "Do you know them?"

  Avon looked over at a group gawking at her. "I think I've seen them before but I don't know them by name. Remember, most guys are afraid of my father."

  "Hell, I'm afraid of your father."

  "I've ruined the party for you."

  "No. I'm really not the party type. I came because it is expected of me. I'm sure most of the people here feel the same as I do," Jeremy whispered, afraid anyone else would overhear him.

  "I used to like the parties," Avon confessed. "It was a way to meet other people. Of course, now I know who I met was always orchestrated. Susan, Cleo and I used to hang out and we got away with our silly pranks because we were kids. But now everything has changed. I'm an adult and I'm a cadet. My whole world has changed."

  Jeremy tried to empathize. His world had changed when he became a cadet. But his was a rags-to-riches story. Avon's story wasn't. "We've all changed," was all Jeremy could say.

  "Do you dance Captain Hanson?" Avon asked.

  "Remember, I'm your escort, not your date," Jeremy snarled. He was embarrassed to admit he had never ever danced.

  "So either you don't know how or you just don't want to dance with me." Avon was annoyed. She needed a distraction. She had hoped dancing would help. Not so much the dancing but feeling someone's arms around her. She needed her daddy to hug her and tell her everything was going to be fine. However, her daddy was part of the problem. Jeremy was part of the problem. Still she needed to feel the warmth of someone's arms around her.

  "I've never danced," Jeremy finally confessed. "And haven't we already given them enough to talk about?"

  "They're already talking. How much more can a dance hurt us?"

  "A lot if I step all over those custom dyed shoes," Jeremy chuckled.

  "They're only shoes. Dance with me Captain Hanson."

  Jeremy could hear the plea in Avon's voice. Despite how much he hated the thought of looking like a fool on the dance floor, he acquiesced and held out his hand. "May have this dance princess?"

  Avon took his hand and together they walking onto the dance floor. The last hands Jeremy had held were those of his dying mother. It felt odd to feel Avon's hand in his. It was soft and warm. It felt nothing like the cold, callused hand of his mother. Jeremy shuddered at the memory and the comparison and quickly glanced around and took note of where to place his hands. He had never danced with a woman before. He had never held a woman in his arms. He could feel his palms becoming sweaty. "Just listen to the beat of the music," Avon whispered. "And relax. You're as stiff as a Glorcan statue. Pretend you like me."

  "I don't hate you princess," Jeremy chuckled.

  "I know you don't," Avon smiled. "I'm sure if we make it through tonight, we might even become friends."

  "That's a lofty goal princess. Tomorrow we head for the mansion and then we start training."

  "Are you going to really be that hard on me?"

  Jeremy started laughing, really laughing. Avon's voice had reverted to a young girl almost begging for her life. "Yep."

  "So this really is my last night of freedom?"

  "I'm afraid so princess," Jeremy confirmed with a shrug. "Shall we celebrate or commiserate?"

  "Both," Avon giggled. "Let's get some Tarian wine. And let's dance."

  Jeremy couldn't see any harm in having a glass or two of wine. They were at a party, after all.

  Avon glanced over at Cleo and Susan and saw them smiling. Cleo was nearly swooning. Cleo was part Glorcan. Glorcan women were known for their sexual prowess and Cleo was nearly gyrating watching Avon and Jeremy dance. Since coming of age, Cleo found it difficult to control her urges. Her mother had snagged the up and coming Dr. Booth during one of his trips to Glorca. She was a medic and once she saw Dr. Booth, he didn't stand a snowball's chance on Solaria; Solaria being the closest planet to the Solarian sun in the Solarian Galaxy. It never snowed on Solaria.

  Cleo's actions were now catching the attention of several of the young officers. "I think we better leave the dance floor before Cleo causes a small riot," Jeremy suggested. "I've heard of this. A Glorcan woman can cause a sexual frenzy."

  "And she's got it hard for you," Avon giggled. "All puns intended."

  "Let's grab some wine and maybe she'll cool off."

  Before Avon and Jeremy made it off the dance floor, they heard a commotion behind them. A group of young officers were starting to argue. Fists were clenched and tempers were quickly coming to a boil. “Oh shit,” Jeremy gasped. “We’re too late.”

  Avon looked back and saw the first punch fly. “We need to get you out of here.”

  “How is this my fault? I didn’t do anything. Hell, I didn’t even talk to her.”

  “Apparently she’s attracted to you. Have you looked into a mirror lately? You are exactly her type and as an up and coming superstar she’s got you in her cross-hairs.”

  “I don’t need this. I really don’t need this,” Jeremy growled. “I’m in enough trouble as it is.”

  “You head for the door and find our transport,” Avon insisted pushing Jeremy towards the exit. “I’m going to steal a bottle of Tarian wine. I was planning on getting drunk tonight and Cleo is not coming between me and my buzz.”

  “I don’t think that is such a great idea,” Jeremy warned, staring Avon in her eyes. “Let’s just go.”

  “This will take me two minutes, three tops,” Avon stated pushing Jeremy again. “Have the door open. I might be running.”

  Jeremy wanted to stay and argue the point with Avon, but he needed to leave and he needed to leave fast. The now riotous group of young officers was getting louder and the punches were coming fast and furious. Jeremy glanced at Avon and then at the mob of military officers and ran for the door.

  Avon hesitated for a moment, looking towards Cleo and Susan. Cleo was standing slightly behind Susan as if she was trying to hide. Avon had known Cleo for many years and she knew the look on Cleo’s face. It was not one of terror, but one of amusement. Avon glared at Cleo and shook her head in disbelief as she pressed her lips together. Cleo was clearly at fault for the unrest and Avon and Jeremy had been caught in the middle. Avon was counting down the seconds until she heard from her daddy.

  With everyone watching the melee, Avon could have walked out with several bottles of Tarian wine while holding them above her head for everyone to see but she didn’t. She snagged one bottle and ran for the door. Tarian wine could not be reproduced in a food synthesizer. It had to be fermented the old-fashioned way. It’s what made it so desirable and coveted.

  As soon as Avon hit the sidewalk, Jeremy grabbed her by the arm and pulled her flush to the building. “Where’s the transport,” Avon squeaked out, out of breath.

  “I don’t know,” Jeremy growled. “It’s not programmed for my voice.”

  “Damn, I forgot about that,” Avon snapped. “Transport, General Zadoorian,” she screamed out frantically. She was now standing directly in front of the glass entrance to HQ. “Hide this,” she screamed at Jeremy practically throwing him the bottle of wine. “My clutch is too small.”

  “What in the hell do you want me to do w
ith it?” Jeremy screamed back at her as she pushed the bottle into his hand.

  “I don’t care, just hide it.”

  Jeremy was mad. Hell, he was past mad. “Why are you getting me in the middle of this? You stole the wine. It was your idea, not mine. And now you want me to take the fall for it?” His arm was still outstretched holding the bottle for the whole world to see.

  Before Avon could respond, the General’s transport arrived. Avon ran and jumped in. “Get in already!” she yelled to Jeremy, who was still standing flush against the building as if hiding from everyone inside. He took a quick look around and ran for the transport. Before he had completely embarked, Avon was already yelling for the transport to go.

  Jeremy was still trying to resituate himself as the driverless transport pulled away. He had dove in head first and was half lying across the seat with his head practically in Avon's lap. Trying to sit up he found it difficult to maintain his balance and slipped landing in the floorboard of the back seat. "Take this blasted bottle of wine," he snapped as Avon tried her best not to laugh. Of course, her best was not good enough. Soon she was doubled over laughing at Jeremy. Avon grabbed the bottle of wine and laughed again as the transport turned a corner and Jeremy landed back on his buttocks on the floor board.

  Luckily it was a short trip to the apartment. As soon as the transport stopped in front of the building, Avon jumped out and ran inside. Jeremy awkwardly disembarked and ran after her. He caught up with her just before the elevator door closed. Stepping inside, Jeremy grabbed the bottle of wine. "This is the last thing you need tonight. You're in enough trouble as it is."

  Avon tried to retrieve the bottle, but Jeremy kept a tight hold. Reaching the fiftieth floor, they headed to the General's apartment. The entire way Avon tried to remove the bottle from Jeremy's hands. She did not succeed.

  Avon placed her palm on the bio scanner and the door to the apartment opened. Five steps inside the door, she came to a halt; before her stood two of ICE's Provost Constables. Jeremy walked in behind her and instantly froze in his steps. The Provost Constables wore a solid uniform of black covered with a nearly impenetrable black armor. Each wore a black helmet with a see-proof visor. Not one inch of the body was visible. All were over six foot five inches tall and genetically enhanced. They were not to be reckoned with. No one won in a fight. Their mission was to track and apprehend.

  "What the frack?" Jeremy blurted without thinking. He knew without hesitation something was amiss. He just didn't know what.

  The first Constable stepped forward walking directly towards Jeremy. "Captain Jeremy Hanson, you are under arrest for theft."

  Jeremy's first reaction was to run; his adrenaline immediately started surging through his body. He was confused. He hadn't stolen anything. Why was he being arrested? Then he looked down at his hand and the stolen bottle of Tarian wine he was holding. "I didn't steal this," he mumbled.

  Avon rushed between Jeremy and the approaching Constable. "Stop," she screamed. "You can't do this."

  "Under orders of ICE, the suspect is in possession of stolen goods and is hereby under arrest," the Constable stated with conviction.

  "No, no," Avon screamed. "It's a mistake. You don't understand," she pleaded as she tried to stop the Constable from restraining Jeremy for transport to the military prison. "Call my father," she begged again and again.

  "General Zadoorian is aware of the arrest," the second Constable advised remaining still.

  "I want to talk to him," Avon pleaded. "Now!"

  "This is not procedure," the second Constable replied.

  "Make it procedure," Avon screamed. "I will file a formal complaint if you don't contact my father and now!"

  Avon refused to back down, standing in front of Jeremy with her arms outstretched. Jeremy barely breathed as he watched both Constables breathe in deeply. Both exhaled slowly as they decided what to do.

  "Comm station?" the first Constable asked, relenting only because of the General's position in ICE.

  Avon pointed towards her father's bedroom. "In there," she told them. The second Constable started towards the bedroom with Avon following him. The first Constable motioned for Jeremy to follow.

  Moments later, Avon was speaking with her father. "Daddy, you knew about this and you're not doing anything?" Avon was nearly crying.

  The look on General Zadoorian's face showed he was displeased, annoyed even. "Avon, I am busy, very busy and every time I breathe, I'm getting another communication about you and your Captain. What the hell is going on?"

  "They're arresting Captain Hanson and he is innocent," Avon cried out in desperation. "He didn't steal anything."

  "A bottle of Tarian wine was stolen and Captain Hanson was found in possession of it," the first constable added.

  "But he didn't steal it," Avon disputed. "I did. He only had it because he had taken it from me. I stole it. Arrest me."

  "Is this true?" General Zadoorian asked looking towards Jeremy. Jeremy looked at Avon conflicted. If he told the truth, she would be arrested. If he lied, he would be arrested. Either way he could lose his commission. But lying would be against his code of honor, the ICE code of honor.

  Jeremy looked down then back at Avon. "Sorry," he mouthed almost silently then snapped to attention. "Sir, Cadet Zadoorian is telling the truth. I did not steal the wine."

  Avon could hear her father's quick intake of breath. She could not look at him. "I need a moment with my daughter and Captain Hanson," the General sighed. The Constables nodded silently and left the room.

  "Avon," General Zadoorian started. "What the hell has gotten into you? You are an ICE cadet. Stealing is against the code of honor. Lying is against the code of honor."

  "I never lied," Avon quickly disputed.

  "But you put Captain Hanson in a position in which he had to decide whether to lie and be arrested for your crime or tell the truth and watch you be marched away in shackles."

  Avon's head fell forward, her eyes staring at the floor. "Captain Hanson," the General started. "I apologize for Cadet Zadoorian's behavior. Thank you for doing the honorable thing."

  Still at attention, Jeremy's facial expression remained stoic. "Sir," he replied while clicking his heels together.

  Then the General addressed Avon. "I will speak with General Armstrong. You will return the bottle of wine and you will formally apologize. It will be up to him whether he presses formal charges. Your career with ICE may be a short one."

  "Yes Daddy," Avon mumbled.

  "Cadet!" General Zadoorian barked out.

  "Yes Daddy," Avon repeated, looking up and speaking clearly.

  "Cadet!" General Zadoorian barked out again, his impatience was clearly evident.

  Avon finally realized her father was no longer speaking to her as her father but as the second in command of ICE. She snapped to attention. "Yes, sir."

  "I can't protect you," General Zadoorian grumbled. "You have thirty minutes to pack and leave the city. I want you both at the mansion tonight. The transport will be instructed to leave in thirty minutes for the country. If you are not onboard, you will have to walk."

  "Yes, sir," Jeremy and Avon replied in unison, both still at attention. Then the transmission ended.

  "We better hurry," Jeremy advised and started packing his duffle. "Get packing already."

  "I'm sorry," Avon started apologizing. Jeremy could see she was sincerely sorry for what had transpired, but he was still in panic mode.

  "I'm not in the mood, princess. So get to packing already. I'll meet you downstairs." Jeremy was nearly finished and was determined not to walk forty miles to the mansion. He pushed past Avon and headed to the bathroom to gather his toiletries. Knowing he did not have time to change out of his dress uniform, he left it on.

  Avon turned and walked away. She knew she had screwed up badly. Not only had she stolen the wine but she almost let Jeremy take the fall for
her. Now her father was mad, past mad, infuriated. He was right; her career could be over as soon as the next day. She saw the bottle of wine on the table and picked it up. She knew she still had to return it to General Armstrong. She still had to apologize and possibly throw herself at his mercy. She was not as concerned with her military career but her father's. She had known for years her father was on the short list to replace General Armstrong when he retired. The thought of her being the reason for her father not being promoted now weighed heavily on her heart and mind. Guilty by association isn't that what Jeremy had told her.