Chapter 6

After hours of pampering – mercifully at the hands of professionals – Polly Dryden pronounced me "fit" and "presentable." I had no idea what I was to be fitted for, but started to wonder when another woman arrived with two lovely dresses over her arms, and directed me to stand up so she could get on with my 'fitting'.

Polly eyed each of the dresses as they were draped on my scrawny frame and decided that the blue one did the most for my 'disadvantaged' figure. The woman immediately began to fuss with the blue one, marking it up for alterations, and when finished, she left us, promising to have the dress ready for dinner.

I turned to Polly for an explanation, and she said, "Angela, my dear, you and I are going to turn some heads tonight at dinner, because we girls need to stick together and keep the men off balance. We are spending this entire day being prepared to knock Hamilton's eyes out of his head, when we show up for dinner dressed for a White House Ball.

"You see, I like to play dress up, and having my own young woman to play dress up with me, just makes it better. Now let's go see about your make-up and hair," and I followed her down a long hallway.

"Can you see how your hair sweeps up into this little set of combs?" Polly's hairstylist was having a near stroke trying to make something attractive out of my mop. Angela did not spend much time worrying about her hair, and now I was paying the price. "Just sweep it all back, and spin the first comb through, front to back, then do the exact same thing with the second one. It will end up looking like you just tossed it up there, and let it fall where it wanted, and that is a look that fits you perfectly, little lady."

The hairdresser was nice, male, and very gay. He kept commenting on my flat chest and tiny bottom, as if they were the end all-be all in life. "My friends and I would just die to have your figure, girlfriend. I swear I wish I was straight just so I could tap this sexy little body you got there, but my swing goes the other direction.

"Of course I have some lesbian friends that would just eat you up till there was nothing left. But that wouldn't make them any skinnier. You have the figure of the century, and I can't keep my hands off of it. I swear I am turning straight just looking at you!"

He prattled on and on, entertaining me, and scandalizing Polly. She finally looked him square in the eye and said, "I don't care how straight you turn, Fernando. If you lay one finger on my adopted daughter, I will have you shot just for starters."

There was a whole new tone in her voice, and the steel to back it up, that shut Fernando down like a blown fuse on an air conditioner. He stopped so fast, I wouldn't be surprised if there were skid marks under his Italian loafers.

'My ADOTPTED Daughter?' Really? When was I adopted and by whom?

Polly didn't keep me in suspense for long, by saying, "If I didn't pretend that you were family, I swear that little twit would have tried to give you to one of his lesbian friends. They can be so aggressive!"

Things quieted down once Fernando and his never ending shouting and attention hogging, was gone. I looked in the mirror and really didn't recognize the girl looking back, but even as I let Polly Dryden use me for her personal baby doll, I wondered how to hide a Glock under the dress. It wasn't a very romantic topic, but it was practical as hell.

Polly had her own things to do, and I was instructed to be ready to go 'up' to dinner, whatever that meant, at exactly seven P.M., and then I was dismissed to the care of Natalie, who magically appeared and escorted me back to the little cottage we stayed in.

I was afraid to ruin all the hard work, and not knowing how to protect myself from ending up looking like the bride of Roseanne Barr, I took Angela's iPad into the sitting room, and carefully read until it was time to leave.

As I surfed and read, Natalie kept worrying me. There was something about her that caused me to feel unsafe. When I got to concentrating on her, I decided to keep her in sight, not allow anything to distract me when she was present with Hawk. If she made a sudden move to hurt him, I promised myself that I would take her down with one of the kicks they taught me up in the mountains.

Natalie was tall, hard bodied, and looked like one of those Olympic skiers that ski to a target and shoot a rifle at it. Her accent pegged her as upper mid-west, and she carried herself like she'd spent years studying martial arts. I noticed she never lifted her feet entirely off the floor, which indicated that her judo instructor taught her how to avoid having her feet knocked out from under her. All of it was interesting, but that was all. She hadn't done anything. I just felt distrustful of her.

When the phone call came to summon us to dinner, Constance fussed over my hair and face, while Natalie kept urging us to hurry. Constance understood the thing about women making an entrance, and Natalie acted like she'd never heard something so stupid, before. That made my antennae fly just a little higher.

We were driven to another part of the base, where we were met by three soldiers in full dress uniform. Two of them offered Constance and me their arms and formally escorted us into a lovely dining hall that had been carefully decorated for the President.

President Dryden and Polly were waiting for us at the sole table in the hall They were dressed as if this was a State Dinner, and I looked around for other guests, but it was just the four of us, which made zero sense.

My confusion was satisfied when an officer of some kind spoke as if he were addressing a joint session of congress and said, "Ladies and Gentlemen. The President and First Lady wish to welcome Presidential Medal of Freedom Honoree, Angela DeBusque, and her special guest, Constance Ames, to the celebration dinner for her medal."

Turning to the President, the officer continued. "Mr. President, Mrs. Dryden, Honored Guest, may I present to you Miss Angela DeBusque."

Hawk and Polly stepped forward to greet me formally, as if we were doing this on the second floor of the White House. I was shocked silent until I heard Constance applauding for me. That was embarrassing and I shushed her, which made Polly giggle, breaking the mood.

She gave me her patented stare, and said, "Young lady, you will not spoil our celebratory dinner by acting like a fourteen year old. Hamilton and I are very pleased to throw this little party in your honor, and you will allow us to treat you with every bit of the same pomp and circumstance that we would any other Medal of Honor winner."