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  Lexa gave Melissa a big hug. “I’m so happy for you and your family, Mel. You all have a great future ahead of you.”

  “Thank you, sweetie.” She scanned the room for her husband, but didn’t see him. “Lexa, would you please hold Dylan for a moment? I want to go find my husband and tell him the good news.”

  “Um, sure.”

  As Melissa prepared to hand her baby to Lexa, Bastian jumped up and said, “Don’t trouble yourself, Mrs. S. I’ll go get him. I think I know right where he is.”

  “That’s all right, Bastian. I’ll—”

  “It’s no bother. Besides, Lexa doesn’t have a maternal bone in her body.” Bastian patted Lexa on her shoulder then took off into the cheering crowd.

  Melissa and Lexa looked at each other and grinned. “He’s never going to change, is he?” asked Melissa.

  “I sincerely doubt it,” Lexa said.

  A few minutes later, Bastian returned with Senator Storm, who was parting a sea of admiring supporters. Storm rushed over to his wife and gave her a big kiss on her lips, and then on her expectant stomach. After pecking Dylan on the cheek, he picked up Mariah, gave her a kiss, and put her on his hip. “Hold on a minute, everyone. Hold on!” Storm shouted above the accolades roaring from the crowd. After the uproar settled, Storm set his daughter down beside his wife and pointed up at one of the three large screen televisions announcing his victory. “That right there isn’t just my victory. That victory belongs to each and every person in this room!” The crowd roared again, then quieted when Storm pointed back up at the screen. “That right there is the result of months of long, hard work from everyone in this room…”

  While Storm carried on with his speech, Lexa noticed that Paige was absent from their troupe of seven gathered in front of the Storms. She glanced around the crowded room before asking just above a whisper, “Where’s Paige?”

  “What? She’s not here? Narcissistic bitch,” Palmer muttered.

  CK scanned the room. “Anybody see her?”

  “Nope, not me,” Cassie replied.

  “Maybe one of us should go look for her,” Kimberly suggested. “No telling how long Storm is going to rattle on before turning the spotlight on us.”

  “I’ve got it,” Bastian said with clear irritation. He made a beeline for the supply room.

  Kimberly whispered to Lexa, “Is he her minder now?”

  “I know, right?” Lexa remarked. While she and Kimberly giggled to themselves, Bastian returned with Paige in tow.

  Kimberly grabbed Paige by the arm and whispered, “Where have you been?”

  Paige subtly cut her eyes at Melissa Storm, whose stealthy glare immediately caught the young woman’s glance.

  “But there were seven of you who went above and beyond the call of duty,” Storm said. “Seven of you who stood out as leaders who practically moved into this office and called it home over the course of the campaign. These seven’s tireless and unrelenting devotion to this campaign earned them a special nickname, that they proved they deserved time and time again.” Storm motioned to Lexa and the others. “Here they are folks! Lexa Rhodes, Kimberly Clark, Cassie Lovette, Paige Turner, Palmer Randolph, Bastian Shadwell, and Christopher Kane—the Magnificent Seven!” As the room erupted with applause, Storm gathered his inner circle around him. “I promise that each and every one of you will be well rewarded. And also, I invite you all to continue on as members of my staff.”

  The members of the Magnificent Seven hooted and congratulated each other.

  ***

  “Tonight’s toast deserves only the best,” Palmer said while the others oohed and aahed and then applauded. He carefully uncorked the bottle of Dom Perignon and began filling the seven crystal champagne flutes.

  Paige handed Lexa a glass. “Looks like you could use this.”

  Lexa took the glass and set it down on the table in front of her. “I better not, it might interact with my meds.”

  “C’mon, one drink won’t kill you,” Bastian chided. “Besides, you owe it to the new senator, and to us.” He picked up the glass and put it back into Lexa’s hand.

  “Okay, just one.” Lexa gulped. Yeah, one drink won’t kill me.

  “That’s my girl,” said Bastian.

  Palmer poured himself some champagne and stood. “Okay, okay, okay, everybody. Here’s to Senator Storm for inviting us to Catalina on this Thanksgiving holiday, to celebrate his recent election victory.” He held up his glass in toast. “Cheers!” Everyone except Lexa took a sip of Palmer’s “I’m someone with money” champagne. Then he picked up the glass set aside for Kimberly and said, “And to us, the Magnificent Seven, minus one. The driving force behind the good senator’s victory. Cheers!”

  “Cheers!” the rest chimed in before downing their drinks with one swift gulp. They lowered their empty glasses and saw Lexa was still holding a full glass.

  Lexa held up her glass. “Cheers.” The apprehension in her voice matched the uncertainty in her head.

  What would Alex do? He’d tell me to go on, it’s just one little toast.

  Following a fleeting stint of indecision, Lexa took a healthy swig of champagne. The others applauded.

  See? No prob.

  It only took a few moments for the alcohol to start affecting her body’s chemistry.

  Bastian poured himself another glass of champagne, then set the glass down after almost belching up his previous mouthful. Palmer gleefully patted his friend’s back while taking a big bite out of his dry salami sandwich.

  “What’s the matter, Ahab?” he asked Bastian. “Bit of trouble with the ol’ sea legs?”

  “Fuck you, asshole,” he retorted raggedly. “I told you…I don’t like boats.”

  “How many have you been on?”

  “I’ve never been on one.”

  Palmer snickered. “No wonder you’re in a bad way. Nothing’ll screw you up faster than popping a cherry.” When Palmer laughed, his gaze fell upon Lexa. He straightened up and said patronizingly, “I’m sorry, I meant having one’s first experience.” Lexa shook her head and smirked with feigned amusement. “Ha, ha, ha.”

  “First times suck, don’t let anyone tell you any different,” Bastian advised.

  “I know, right?” Lexa said in heartfelt agreement. Some more than others. Already starting to feel a bit woozy herself, she sat down next to one of the lounge’s bay windows. A deafening silence crept upon her as her eyes were dazzled by the chaotic rhythm of the churning waves. Back and forth. Side to side. Back and forth. Side to side. More than half of the ship’s passengers were succumbing to seasickness as large ground swells rocked the vessel like a toy boat navigating the turbulence of a hyperactive child’s bathtub. However, instead of dredging up the remains of her last meal, the incessant ocean motion was stirring long-forgotten mental images buried deep in the recesses of Lexa’s mind. While those around her regurgitated a bile-laced stew of partial digestion, her psyche vomited up suppressed memories from a misplaced childhood…

  ***

  Darkness. Emptiness. Nothingness. No thought, no self-awareness or identity. And then there was a voice. A soothing yet commanding voice that echoed from beyond the void.

  “Five…four…”

  A consciousness began spiraling out of oblivion.

  Is this real? Someone please tell me. Am I real?

  The disembodied voice neared the end of its countdown. “Three…two…”

  The consciousness cleared the dark center of the vortex.

  Where am I? Who am I?

  “One.”

  I am…

  “Lexa, open your eyes,” the voice commanded.

  I am Lexa…

  Eight-year-old Lexa opened her eyes. She saw a large computer monitor placed directly in front of her, and upon its screen swirled a black and white animated hypnotic spiral.

  “How are you feeling right now?”

  “I’m okay,” Lexa answered. “Just a little dizzy.” Her pupils widely dilated from the monitor�
��s penetrating glow, she surveyed the darkened room but was unable to discover the source of the voice addressing her. Lexa’s feeling of curiosity was being replaced by a creeping sense of apprehension. “Who are you?”

  “Don’t you remember? I’m Dr. Cross.” A desk lamp switched on to reveal James Cross, a lean blond man in his mid-fifties with chiseled features.

  Lexa tried to grasp what was happening. “How…?”

  “How what?”

  “How did I get here?”

  “Your Aunt Amanda brought you here.”

  “Aunt Amanda?”

  “Yes. I’ve been working with your brother for a while now, but this is your first time with me.”

  “Why am I here?”

  “Because now I’ll be working with you as well.”

  “What are you and Alex working on?” Lexa asked with childish innocence.

  “Oh, just some things your parents thought Alex needed help with.” Cross’s eyes locked on his young patient’s face, attempting to detect any signs of emotional response, but there were none. “Does he ever talk to you about me, or our time together?”

  Lexa shook her head. “Nope.” I wish he was here with me now. “Where is Alex?”

  “He’s in the waiting room with your aunt.”

  “Can he come in here with me?”

  “It’s better if he doesn’t,” Cross replied. “This is our time, Lexa.” He switched off his desk lamp, which once again made the computer’s monitor the only source of illumination. “I’ll be spending time with your brother later.”

  An eerie feeling of recognition washed across Lexa’s cerebral cortex.

  I do remember Alex telling me about him. Alex said that I should never talk to him, that I should never trust him.

  “I don’t wanna be here. I wanna go home.”

  “Now, now, Lexa. Your aunt wouldn’t have brought you here if she didn’t think—”

  “I wanna go home!”

  After a brief moment of hesitation, from behind the spiraling screen Cross’s voice picked up where it left off. “Home, Lexa?”

  “Yes, please. Please let me go home.”

  “What is home, Lexa?”

  Home? Why it’s…it’s…home?

  A startling inability to remember overwhelmed the young girl’s sense of understanding. “Um…”

  “The place you call home, what is it? Where is it?”

  Tears streamed down Lexa’s face. “I…I don’t know.” The terror of this realization sent her heart rate racing and shallowed her breathing. She jumped up out of her chair and scanned the dimmed room for an exit. “I want my Mommy and Daddy!” she cried.

  “Mommy and Daddy aren’t here,” Cross said.

  “I want my Mommy and Daddy. I want my Mommy and Daddy. I want my Mommy and Daddy!”

  “Your Mommy and Daddy are dead, Lexa,” Cross said calmly.

  The harsh bluntness of the information’s release loosened Lexa’s hold on sanity. “No!” she wailed, pacing frantically in the semi-darkness. “They’re not dead. They’re not! They’re not… They’re not dead…”

  ***

  Memories flashed before Lexa’s teary eyes, memories that seemed as resolutely distant as the black-hole center of the spiraling vortex facing her.

  Daddy laughed…Mommy smiled…Alex played…Lexa ran…Dinner cooked. Presents opened. Alex played. Lexa ran. Voices raised. Children listened. Alex played. Lexa ran. Flames erupted. Doors burned. Walls fell. Voices screamed. Bodies burned. Lexa screamed. Sirens blared. Lights flashed…

  ***

  Stop it, Lexa. Don’t remember.

  “No. They’re not dead. They’re not…” Lexa’s eyes darted around the room in a desperate attempt to find her twin brother. “ Alex! Help me, Alex! Help me.”

  “There’s nothing Alex can do to help you. What do you think he’s going to do, bring your parents back from the dead?”

  “They’re not dead!” Lexa shrieked. “They’re not!”

  “They are, Lexa. You must remember,” Cross said in a tone rich with uncompromising insistence.

  “I don’t remember!” I won’t remember! “I don’t remember!”

  “Lexa—”

  “And you can’t make me!”

  “Lexa, listen to me,” Cross pleaded.

  “Alex, help me!” Lexa screamed. “Help me, Alex, please! Help me…”

  Darkness. Emptiness. Nothingness. No thought, no self-awareness or identity. And then there was Cross’s voice counting from beyond the void. “Five…four…”

  Lexa’s consciousness began spiraling out of oblivion. No! Please let me stay here…

  “Three…two…”

  Lexa’s consciousness cleared the dark center of the vortex. No…I don’t want to—

  “One.”

  No. Not again…

  “Lexa, open your eyes.”

  ***

  Lexa opened her eyes and stared out through the large bay windows at the foam-crested waves churning just beneath her. She opened her purse and took out one of her bottles of prescription medicine. With shaking hands, she held up the bottle and read the label: DO NOT TAKE WITH ALCOHOL. She shoved the bottle back into her purse and grabbed hold of the locket hanging around her neck.

  I wish you were here with me now.

  Lexa opened the locket to reveal a picture of Alex at age eight facing a picture of herself at the same age.

  I guess I’m the forever of your always, or vice versa. Lexa chuckled to herself. But you know what? I wouldn’t have it any other way.

  “What’s up!” Bastian screamed into her ear, almost knocking the unprepared young woman onto the cabin’s floor.

  “Goddammit, Bastian!” Lexa screamed. “What’s wrong with you?”

  Bastian smirked. “Plenty, but that’s beside the point.”

  “Did you have to scare me out of my wits?”

  Bastian grinned and bobbed with childish fervor.

  “Sorry, babe,” Paige said. “But since you wouldn’t join the party, the party decided to join you.”

  Bastian, Paige, and the others yanked Lexa up from her chair and found a place for her in their skewed lineup, then they all performed an impromptu conga line while Gloria Estefan’s song “Conga” blasted through the cabin’s recessed speakers.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  SANTA CATALINA

  The Catalina Express docked at Avalon Harbor. The six present members of the Magnificent Seven disembarked with subdued enthusiasm, their excitement cooled and energy expended by too much alcohol and conga dancing. Standing on the dock was a limo driver holding a sign reading: ‘MAG 7.’

  “Nice touch, Storm, nice touch,” Palmer remarked in an “I’m not that impressed” tone after he noticed the appreciative expressions on the others’ faces.

  The six friends piled into the limousine, the driver closed the doors, and proceeded to assist the Express’s porters in packing the first load of their luggage into the trunk.

  After a scenic drive, the limousine pulled into the driveway of a secluded five bedroom beach-front villa, the best available in Harrington Cove, an exclusive Spanish-themed gated community that offered some of the most luxurious and costly vacation rentals the island had to offer. The driver hopped out, hurrying over to open the passenger door.

  Paige exited the limo and winked at him. “Thanks, sweetie. I really enjoyed the ride.” Her sultry banter and flirtatious airs were offered in lieu of a monetary tip, which the driver gladly accepted.

  Lexa got out next and stumbled backward into the driver. “Sorry,” she said as he steadied her and helped her back on her feet. “Whoa. I guess I shouldn’t have had that drink after all.” After she composed herself, Lexa turned and got an eyeful of the extravagant ocean view villa, a three-story luxury house crowned with weathered, red-orange Spanish tiles. A fresh coat of white paint made the villa stand out from the surrounding flora as if it was being lit by a spotlight at night. “Is this where we’re staying?”

  “Ni
ce, isn’t it? Spence has good taste,” said Paige, who was referring more to herself than the villa. She grinned and slapped herself on her rear end.

  When the driver opened the trunk, Bastian and CK hurried over to the front of the limo to get a full view of the villa.

  “Holy shit!” Bastian exclaimed excitedly, putting his hand on CK’s shoulder. “Call my mom and tell her to send my things ’cause I’m never going home.”

  “Right after I call mine,” CK crowed.

  Cassie unfolded her white cane and stood beside the limo. “So what’s the place like?”

  CK whistled. “It’s sweeeeeeet.”

  “Sweet?” Bastian echoed. “It’s lifestyles of the rich and fucking famous!”

  “It’s adequate,” Palmer said, maintaining his signature air of indifference.

  After the driver finished unloading the luggage and closed the trunk, Palmer held out a fifty-dollar bill.

  “No need for a tip, sir,” the driver said. “It’s already been taken care of.”

  Palmer shrugged and put the money into his pocket.

  Bastian snatched the fifty out of Palmer’s pocket and shoved it into the driver’s hand. “Go ahead,” he said, “I insist.”

  “Thank you, sir. I’ll go retrieve the rest of your luggage and have it here within the hour.”

  “Thank you, my good man,” Bastian mocked with an excessively pretentious accent.

  Palmer, speechless from being so easily shown up, shot Bastian a heated glare as the driver got into the limousine and drove away.

  ***

  The six members of Senator Storm’s Magnificent Seven entered the villa. The vaulted ceilings, marble floors, and adorned walls framed an eye-pleasing layout of posh and expensive furniture. A bounty of wrapped gifts spread in front of the roaring, wood-burning fireplace was the icing on the senator’s “gratitude cake” for their work on the campaign, a hearty thanks for a job well done.