Tara stretched against the building and looked towards the lightening sky.  Dawn was breaking over the campus and soon the world would wake up, but before it did, Tara Mastrosimone was going to have already put in a solid hour of work.  A mile run.  Basic exercises to help her flexibility and strength training using her own body weight.  It wasn't the same here in the city as it had been in the woods, all those early mornings with Mom, but now more than ever the middle Mastrosimone was committed working out.

It used to be that she did her mother's work out because none of the other kids did and it was her way to have time alone with Aurora.  Having four siblings meant sharing every moment of your parent's time... but training time, that was a huge exception.  So for years now, Tara had gotten used to waking up early and keeping pace with the woman who had spent a lifetime in the shadow of Gavin Byrne. 

Tara never wanted to be a hitman like her mother or maternal grandfather, she just wanted time with her mom.  This was the way to be like her, to be with her, and Aurora had never pushed her away - although, point of fact, Tara now realized that her mother never once offered to teach her the art of what she did.  Her mother never put a weapon into her hand with any other intention than helping her survive in the woods.  Looking to the rising sun, Tara wondered now why that was.  If her mother wanted to come back if she KNEW she would come back someday, why not prepare them?  

Warmed up with stretches, Tara began to run.  The sound of her feet slapping sidewalk was nothing like the wind in trees or leaves & wilderness debris crunching beneath her but when she closed her eyes, she could still remember it.  The peace.  The solace of nature.  It was every bit as brutal as her mother's Cosa Nostra but it was orderly.  It made sense.  There was a balance to it.  A rightness.

Tara's pace quickened.  Soon she wasn't jogging but running.  She was running harder than she normally did, but she did not notice.  Still, she pressed herself harder, replaying the events of the other day in her head.  The woman trying to kill her mom.  The knife.  The feel of her body...

Tara grit her teeth.  Sweat beading on her brow as she left the sidewalk and took a path across the grass - a path she never took before.  Her breathing was increasingly erratic as if she were running from someone, as her pace reached the limit of her capability.  She would tire before long if she kept at it like this... but she had to know.  How far could she go at this speed?  How much could she press herself?  Her mother would never have driven her like this, which was exactly why Tara had to do it to herself.  

Emotions welled up in her as her muscles began to tremble and burn.  Thoughts of what might have happened, of things that didn't happen - both things she feared and longed to experience, all flashed through her mind's eye.  Her father's words, his reassurances... her doubts... 

Tara broke out of the trees and found herself near the library before she doubled over and began gagging.  Her breakfast came back to haunt her and she found herself shuddering as she gasped, trying to slow her heart, stunned by how far she'd made it.  She looked at her watch then and smiled as she wiped her lips clean. 

She WAS fast.

"Alright then."  She said to no one in particular.

"Hey, Tara!"  Claire Montgomery said as she was coming out of the lecture hall as Tara went in.  Claire had met Tara at orientation and was, perhaps, the closest thing Tara had to a friend at Vassar yet.  She was relentless in trying to make Tara 'come out of her shell' and be as bold and loud as she herself was.  Tara appreciated the girl's efforts, but the boy crazy young woman often left Tara at a loss.  "You going out to the revel tonight?  I hear some fellas are coming down from Harvard.  Might be a nice chance for you to make a few friends."  

Tara smiled at Angie, of course, this was another party and another chance to meet some guys.  What else would it be? "Um... I don't know yet.  I mean..."

"I swear to God, Tara if you tell me again you need to study again, I'm going to scream.  You're dodging, no one needs to study as much as you do.  You can't live your whole college life in that dorm.  Just say yes!  It'll be fun, I hear there's going to be music and someone is bringing a keg of beer so... it'll be a real hoot.  Say yes, Tara, just this once... please?"

Tara admired the shine on Claire's lips and instantly looked down when she realized what she was doing.  "What time?"

Claire giggled and bounced in front of Tara, "No later than seven, just head out to the point.  Wear something comfortable.  We spend a lot of time sitting on logs around the fire, talking and such.  I know it's tempting to wear something pretty but honestly, it'll end up ruined."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"Your blouse is super cute, by the way."  Claire said as she walked off. 

Tara blushed even though she knew the compliment wasn't meant the way she hoped it was.  "Thanks."  She said, mostly to herself before heading into class.  

Tara climbed the stairs back up to her apartment at half-past five.  It was times like these when the changes in her life were keenly felt.  Gone was the small house full of people, noise and love... all that she came home to these days was silence.  Deafening.  A void that always felt like it would swallow her up.  She wished she could go back in time to take back every instance she yelled at her siblings for being noisy.  What she'd give to open this door and find them all here.

Pulling out her key she inserted it into the lock and turned.  Pushing the door open she stepped inside and dropped her book bag and began to kick off her shoes.

"Hey guys, I'm home."  She smarted off to the empty space and then sighed dejectedly knowing or sure that no one heard her, no one cared and that if she didn't keep her word to Claire tonight and go to the damn Revel, not only would she get an ear full tomorrow... but she'd spend another night all alone.

With thoughts of what she was going to do on her mind she entered her dorm proper and was not at all ready for what was there waiting.

Oriana was lying comfortably on Tara's bed. One leg was bent so her knee was pointing upward; her other leg was draped over it and bouncing. She was wearing black boots that stretched up to her calf but had no real heel to speak of, navy blue slacks, a white blouse, and a long brown coat that fell to her knees when she was standing. Her hair was splayed out behind her, and it looked like she'd been comfortable for quite a while- or at least long enough to read half a book on Greek mythology.

As soon as Tara walked in, Oriana abruptly closed the book shut with one hand and spoke before Tara could process too much. As she spoke, Oriana swung her legs off the bed and faced Tara.

"So I suppose I should start by saying that I'm not here to kill you. Or hurt you. The opposite, really. I got chewed out by your parents, I'm on the shit list, and I'm supposed to make things up to you. Help you sleep better at night. I don't mind sharing that, since apparently your father didn't have much trouble finding out about the whole knife thing."

Oriana shrugged nonchalantly before she fixed her grey eyes on Tara again.

"I'm Oriana Montini."

Tara stares at the person sitting on her bed. She didn't move an inch the whole while the other woman spoke. When finally the room was silent, Tara found her voice and said. "I'm Tara." Instantly regretting it. Of course the other woman knew her damn name, she'd told it to her!

"I know."

"You're not dead."

Oriana smirked, "Why would I be dead?"

"You seem annoyed that I told dad about you and the knife... but you're not dead so, I don't see where there's much of a problem."

Orianna shrugged.

Tara shakes her head, "Look, um, I know my parents mean well and stuff..."  She glanced at the door. "If you just want me to let them know you came by and said sorry. I can do that."

Orianna sighed, "They'd know. They seem annoyingly well informed.  Look, just tell me what you want and I'll make it happen. Then I'll get out of here and you can do whatever it is you do."

Tara narrowed her eyes. "What I want?" Her brow furrowed. "What exactly did my father tell you to do?"

"Make it up to you. I think your parents are worried that I scared you or freaked you out or something. Which is fine, I get it.  This would be easiest if you needed someone killed, but I'm pretty sure that's not what your parents meant by helping you."

Tara closed her eyes and sighed.

Orianna shrugged, "Don't look at me, kid. I didn't sign up for charity here. Just trying to help my boss and I smooth things over, so here I am."

"Look you don't have anything I need." She said. "This is a huge mistake, brought on by me running my mouth in a weak moment when I was overly tired. My father doesn't know how to let a thing go when he thinks ..." She cut herself off.  "It's just a mistake."

Tara looks at Ori's coat, following the lines of it with her eyes, "Nice coat."

"Thanks. Long is good. Classy. Hides weapons. And look, if you're bothered by what happened, you can do what other normal people do. Kick my ass therapeutically? Get drunk? I'm probably not the person to talk to about stuff like that."

"How ... how long have you been..." Tara took a step closer to the other woman, nearing the chair by her desk.

 "Couple hours. Paid your roommates to leave 'til tomorrow so they'd stop asking me questions. If anyone asks, I'm a family friend and my parents work with yours."

 "I mean how long have you been a contract killer."

Tara sits down cautiously watching Ori.

 "Oh."

"Technically? A few weeks?"

"Do you prefer another term?"

Oriana shrugged. "It's accurate."

 "Mom didn't kill you ... that means you're good. Stupid amounts of good. How does someone as young as you get to be that good after only a few weeks?"

"It's kind of a long story. I was doing similar work before that for years, just not really contracts."

Tara nods. "You started young then too. How did you handle it the first few times? Did you get drunk? Talk therapeutically to someone... or ..."

"Why do you want to know about this, anyway?"

Tara's voice is a bit softer as she says, "It's what I do."

 "Ask questions?"

 "Sometimes. Sometimes I read, watch or just listen. People tell you a lot of things without saying a word if you know what to look for."

"How else am I going to keep them safe ... knowledge is power."

Oriana rolled her eyes. "Power is power."

"You think? And yet you were defeated by knowledge the other day."

Oriana flicked her eyes over to Tara and they flashed for a moment.

 "I wasn't defeated by knowledge. I wasn't defeated at all."

Tara smirks.

"Do you know the difference between a Boss and an Enforcer?"

"Why do I get the feeling that you're about to tell-"

"Knowledge. That's it. Enforcers can crack the skulls of Bosses but without what Bosses know, an Enforcer's strength means jack and shit. He's a weapon in a drawer without a hand to pull the trigger. If you had known who mom was ... it would have changed everything for you the other day."

"Look, I don't know if this counts as 'making you feel better', but I could have killed your-"

Oriana took a deep breath.

She leans forward in her chair, "Who is Giancarlo Mattaranzi?"

Tara's eyes seem less uncomfortable and more focused as she speaks

 "How do you know that?"

 "Knowledge is power."

 "Kid, if I didn't already threaten you and almost get dropped in the harbor for doing it..."

Oriana shook her head.

Tara said, "You said the name in front of me, but I don't know who he is."

 "He's one of the most powerful men in Italy. You'd call him the Godfather-Chairman of Venice. He put a hundred million dollar hit on your mother- maybe your father too."

Tara sighed. "It's worse than I thought then..."

"Don't worry. Your parents are surrounded by so much knowledge. They'll be fine."

She met Ori's eyes, "You must really be alone in this world to be so damn hateful. I can't believe that I ..." She shuts her mouth audibly and shakes her head, standing up from her chair.

"Don't judge me, kid. You have no idea what I've had to deal with in my life."

Tara shakes her head, looking a little ashamed, "You're right, I don't."

 "Good. That's settled. Now what do you want? I can't be your murder-genie, but three wishes. Anyone you hate here? Something you want stolen? I'm guessing you have all the money, weapons, anything else you could buy."

She chortled, "A genie... if only." She walked over to her closet and looked inside. "Weapons? No. I don't have any of those... but are you proposing you do a few tasks for me and we call it square?"

"How do you not have a weapon? And yea, if that's what you want."

Tara looked from her very plain clothes hanging in her closet, back to Ori, "What part of 'non-combatant' was unclear to you when my Dad chewed you a new asshole?" She shakes her head. "I'm not Cosa Nostra. I'm just ... a student. Not a kid. Just... not a wise guy."

"I thought that just meant you sucked at fighting. Didn't your mother teach you stuff?"

 Tara went quiet and looked back at her clothing. For a long while she stood there before picking out a new blouse. "I know how to hunt. I can survive on my own if I have to, but believe it or not plenty of folks lead happy lives never having killed anyone."

"Sure, but those folks don't have people like me showing up in their kitchen."

Oriana  held up her hands defensively.

"Not that you couldn't knowledge your way out of anything."

Tara glared at Ori.

"You know, if you had half my knowledge you'd be one of the most dangerous women in North America."

"First of all, I already am. Second of all, If we were on a boat right now, I would throw you off. But yes, please explain to me how being a college girl would make me so much more dangerous."

Tara crossed her arms in front of her, "You spent your life learning from someone. Probably several someones?"

"Yes."

"Me too. Learning from what they felt was their wisest decisions... and things that got them killed, which might be some of the most important lessons if we're being honest. I don't suspect you'll think there's much to reading the words of some of the world's smartest people... what with your love of physical strength and all, but I'm pretty sure someone who loved books a whole lot thought it was a good idea to train you to be one hell of a killer. Right?"

"Yes. And I do read books. What's your point?"

"Combining your skills with the wisdom of people who normally hire people like you ... end result is a boss that rivals maybe every other one who came before her." Tara shrugs. "But, maybe you're like my mom. Maybe you like what you do and don't want to be anything else."

Ori sighed.  "I have a boss now.  They work for your parents. Who want me to make you happy. Will it make you happy if I take over a city for myself? Or should we talk a walk and fine something a little more concrete than pipe dreams?"

Tara sighed. "No. I'm sorry I thought we were ... forget it. You just want to know what you can do so you can get out of here. Right? Just give a moment to think... okay... you caught me off guard. There must be something you can do that will make my Dad back off. I just... gotta think and this stupid revel is looming like the damn sword of Damocles."

Tara goes to her dresser and pulls out two pairs of slacks which really don't look too different from each other.  "I tend to focus on the short term. Long term plans about my future aren't really in the cards."

"What the hell is a revel? A party?"

"Yeah." Tara says in an annoyed tone.

"Why is it looming? Do you have enemies there?" Ori sounded hopeful.

Tara laughs, "Something like that..." She looks at Ori, a little longer than she'd let herself look before. Tara looks away before it gets odd and looks back to her pants.  "It's a party to celebrate the new pledges to the sororities. I'm not in one but since my Aunt's name is on a building here, I'm something of a legacy."

Tara shrugs. "In otherwords I can't keep dodging."

"Yea, your rich family and all their influence sounds like a horrible burden to bear."

"Jesus... you are something."

"You're the one complaining about your aunt's name on a building and having to go to a party."

Tara shakes her head. "You know what, why don't you come to the stupid party tonight? You can... keep me safe and tell my Dad you protected me at the party and that's probably enough. I got to 'hang out with my friends' and feel safe thanks to you. Yay, big hero hitgirl. Then you can go back to the city and forget you ever met me."

"I will never forget you, Tara Mastrosimone. Because this has been one of the five most frustrating conversations of my entire life, and the other four involve people dying." Ori smirked.

"Well, maybe you'll get lucky and I'll take a bullet too."  Tara snatched up her clothing. "I need to change."

"I'm afraid I won't be that lucky. Your dad would give me some of that torture he mentioned. Seems bad for business. And for the record, I'm not even close to a hero."

Ori stood up to head out to the hall.

Tara opened the door in high-waisted navy slacks and practical shoes that one might use in the woods if they were hiking. Not exactly the sort of thing a young college girl wore to a party. Her blouse wasn't a total disaster, aside from being a loud orange color. It had two strings at the neck that tied in a simple bow creating a peak-a-boo space just at the top of her breasts giving a hint of the feminine to what was otherwise a plain button-down shirt with a short leg of mutton sleeve. Her raven hair hung long and severely straight around her face and down her back, her amber eyes which matched her mother's proving to be the only remarkable thing about this girl who hadn't even applied so much as lip gloss.

Ori was leaning against the wall outside and studied Tara for a moment.  "Nope, back inside."  Ori closed the door behind them.

For once, the girl didn't argue. Oriana raided the roommates' makeup and the bottom, little-used drawer of Tara's bureau, where she found more form-fitting slacks- ones that were similar to her own. Having instructed Tara to sit down at her roommate's vanity, Oriana began styling Tara's hair. Borrowing hair curlers from one of the roommate's, Oriana gently twisted the hair over the metal to create big, soft girls for the younger girl. As she started the process, she questioned Tara about something that had been dropped earlier.

"So... what do you hunt?"

Tara was breathing shallow, long breaths, her eyes fixated on Ori's reflection in the mirror as her fingers went through her dark locks again and again. "White Tail Deer mostly. Though smaller game too. I'm ... good with a bow. Been using it since I was maybe four, I think."

"Bows are nice. I don't have much practice there. They're... impractical."

Oriana nearly raised the hypothetical if she'd had a bow against Aurora, then decided against it and continued to focus on the girl's hair.

"You know, if you ever decide to hang up your guns, you might make a fine beautician." Tara smiled at her through the mirror and once the other girl's gaze met her own she said sincerely, "Thank you, by the way."

Oriana was focused on her task, nimble fingers dancing and working. Tara's skin occasionally erupts into gooseflesh and she goes silent again

"You're welcome," said Oriana, "I used to do this-" She halted abruptly, switching the topic. "So your parents taught you how to hunt? But not fight?"

"Yeah." Tara said, torn between speaking and asking the questions she wanted to ask now, and remaining silent to relish the moment for as long as it might go on. "Guess they were hoping for a different life for me on some level... sadly it's not in the cards I think."

 "Might not have a choice, if they stay in their line of work. You should at least know how to shoot a little."

 "Was thinking of asking my Uncle to teach me a bit about how to fight and shoot... he lives in Philadelphia though. It's a bit of a commute."

 OrianaMontini rolled her eyes. "How big is your family? You've got shooting uncles and aunts with buildings and..."

Oriana waved, encompassing a large family tree.

Tara chuckled, "If mom and dad weren't as old as they are now, it would be a ton bigger. The two of them are like rabbits in spring and the way I hear it, my grandfather wasn't much better. I've got a lot of family... would have more except for good old Giancarlo." Her smile fades. "May have less if he has his way."

Oriana had started to smirk, but she narrowed her eyes. "I wouldn't talk about him that way. Even here. And is it normal for most people to comment on their parents' sex lives?"

"You grow up in a 1000 square foot cabin in the middle of the Canadian wilderness with four siblings and two parents who don't know when to stop and tell me you don't have a very practical understanding of where babies come from." She rolls her eyes. "It's natural. They love each other. We're made for that you know? And as for Giancarlo he can kiss my ass... my mother is going to gut him like a damn fish when she gets the chance. No doubt about it. His first hitman killed my grandfather right in front of her. She's never gotten over that, and she won't. Either he'll be dead or I'll be burying my mom and probably my dad too. There's no two ways about this, which is why I no longer have the luxury of the delusion I'm not 'in' this thing."

Oriana nodded, focusing on finishing off the rollers. "Alright, done. Leave them in for a bit. Is there anything else you need for this 'revel'?"

"I don't think so. The guys from Harvard will bring the beer no doubt." She rolls her eyes. "The sororities will bring food." Tara shrugged. "Not like I've been to many parties up in Newfoundland."

Tara stared at Oriana in the mirror as the assassin looked outside the window.

"Seems like a nice enough night," said Oriana, "Take my coat. Count that as the first of your three wishes and this party as the second one. I probably wouldn't wear it anyways."

Tara looked surprised. "Well, bitty boppity boo." She smiled.

"What?" questioned Oriana.

"A fairytale about a girl from a simple life, a story my sister liked when she was young. Girl is born to wealth and is forced to live in poverty and slave away for years and one night she has a fairy visit and gives her a dress and takes her to a party where she meets and falls in love with a prince."

"Don't know that one- sounds like bullshit to me. Come on, let's get the curlers off."

OrianaMontini focused again, this time on removing the curlers without burning her fingers. When she was done, she nodded. "Not bad."

"Yeah. Total bullshit," said Tara softly. Louder, she spoke to Oriana, ""My sister is the one who believes in childish stories. I like to think I'm more of a realist."

Oriana stepped back toward Tara's bed and undid her belt, gently placing it on Tara's bed. There were two guns and a knife on it.

"Got somewhere I can keep this? Those guns mean a lot to me, but I don't think they're the sort of thing someone wears to a 'revel'. At least not a college one."

Oriana removed her coat and tossed that on the bed as well before rolling up the sleeves on her blouse. 

Tara stared but didn't immediately respond."Um... I have, you could put it in my dresser?" She wet her lips.

The assassin nodded, moving to the dresser and hiding the gunbelt under the rest of the clothes that Tara didn't seem to wear. To be safe, she slid a trunk in front of the lower drawers as well to try to hide them. "Ready?"

Tara nodded. "Can I ask you... " She walked towards the door, grabbed her purse, and checked she had her keys. "Have YOU ever been to a party before?"

"All the time."

 Tara smiled. "Oh, good."

 "Although they were usually very... luxurious. And I was usually trying to get information from someone. Or kill someone."

Tara hesitated, "This is probably not that kind of party."

"What are you worried about?"

"I've only ever read about parties." She swallowed. "And there's this one girl I met at orientation and I might have told her some things to make myself sound less ... weird ... I regret it now but I realized that no one was going to believe the real story of my life and I wanted to feel ... normal. Only, I'm not. I get that now. And there might be some expectations of me tonight that I'm... not really into."

"What sort of things? Just lie. It's easy," shrugged Oriana.

Tara shakes her head. "The girls were all talking about their lives and the things they've done ... at parties involving drugs and with boys and well ... I may have claimed some things my mom wrote about in her journal were things I did. Only. I haven't. At all. So I've been avoiding going to parties... Oh and I can lie pretty good- it's the part where I might be expected to make good that has me nervous."

Oriana crossed her arms impatiently, ""Then be a better liar. You just got engaged, which is why you were home for a few days. We'll steal you a ring, and you can go socialize without worrying about winding up in the back seat of a Ford. Hell, I'll be your new sister in law if you want- I'll just say I lied about our parents working together so I wouldn't spoil your surprise." Tara's face split into a huge grin as Oriana continued, "Later on, if it gets too annoying to have to keep lying about dear fiance Jonathan, just kill him off in a car accident or something. Then people'll leave you alone because you're in mourning."

"You really are some sort of fucked up fairy godmother."

 "Now come on, kid."

"Don't call me, Kid."

 Despite her complaint, Tara's cheeks seem red.

 "As long as your happy and your dad stops mentioning torture the next time we have dinner, I'll be whatever I have to be. So come on, ki-Princess."

Oriana stalked out the door before Tara could respond.

Tara followed quickly behind, smiling the whole way trying not to think about the entry in her mother's journal that detailed out their second meeting.

The sun was slowly releasing the world from its grip as Tara climbed into the passenger seat of her own car, handing off the keys to Ori.  Wrapping her hair in a kerchief, Tara left the window rolled down and smiled into the wind as Ori pulled out onto the street and began heading in the direction of the business district.

The radio on so they didn't have to talk, Tara leaned back and closed her eyes listening to the music, enjoying the smell of the other woman still lingering on her jacket.  It occurred to Tara just then that her evening was like one of those strange eye puzzles.  If you looked at it just right, you could make out some hidden image inside, if you squinted and stared hard enough the obvious would disappear and something else would be real for just a moment.

In the car, with Ori beside her, wearing her jacket... Tara felt like someone's girl.  Tara felt like she was flying.  And for a moment, Tara wondered if this was how Gavin and Brigitte felt every Friday night.

Jordan's Jewelers on the fifth street was just twenty minutes from closing when Ori pulled up.  Tara tried her best to calm her nerves as the two of them went inside to commit what would officially be Tara's first crime.  She'd read about stealing a thousand times before but she'd never done it.  Ori's explanation about her part was super easy... just ask to see a ton of rings.  Try them on, fuss over them and the fake fiancee she had who would be coming tomorrow and what ring the man behind the counter should show to him.  Of course, there was no fiance, and the rings she looked at didn't matter at all, she was the distraction.  Ori was going to lift a ring while the other man was distracted and then they'd leave with the salesman none the wiser.

Tara knew it would be okay.  Jewelers had insurance for this reason.  Heck, Nonna Bella had jewelry stores she paid people to knock over so she could double dip and resell the jewelry she had stolen while also making insurance claims on the 'lost' merchandise.  And with how much these places marked up diamonds THEY should be in jail for robbery.  No.  There wasn't anything to feel bad over, which was why Tara couldn't justify her nervous energy.

For ten minutes solid she lead the salesman on and tried on tons of rings and never once seen Ori make for the trays of jewels which were displayed for her to try on and examine.  It wasn't until Ori and she was back in the car that she finally got to see the ring which Ori had grabbed for her.  The band was unremarkable, plain, like Tara herself.  White gold, like so many others she'd looked at and a single solitare diamond perched atop it.  It could have been one of the millions of rings out there in the world, standing out in no particular way and yet... Tara stared at it and smiled as she put it on her own left-hand ring finger.

It was a sight she never thought to see and like everything else tonight, it was a lie... but it felt good and so, Tara tried not to think about it too much, to let the picture stay out of focus for as long as she could and just have fun with it.  After all, how many times would she get this chance in her life?  To be on what felt like a date with someone she found attractive, to feel this beautiful, to be wearing her date's jacket... and to have her finger adorned in a diamond that someone else gave to her that she didn't want to reject on principle?  Ori was insufferable, but in truth, she was lovely and fascinating.  She was a mystery and Tara loved nothing more in all the world than a mystery.

"Thanks."  she said finally looking up from the ring as Ori started the car and pulled them out into the street.

"Where to now?"

"Take this street out of town.  There's some private property about five miles outside of town.  A farm.  A little two-track trail will take us back to the campsite where everyone is parking and they're having the bonfire.  Gale told me about it last week... says there's a sign just before our turn which reads 'Miller's Pick Your Own Strawberry Farm' on the side of the road.  Says we can't miss it."

As Oriana drove, she tried to put a mental list together of all the shit she had to do. Check on businesses. Make introductions. Bring in some cash for Oriana. At some points, she forgot she even had a passenger, but remembered in time to turn into the jewelers. Well, at least her babysitting job would be over after tonight. The jewelry store was no trouble, although the kid seemed excited enough. As they drove to the revel, she turned the radio down.

"The ring thing- the fake fiance- works well. When you're making up your fiance, pick someone you know, but who these girls'll never meet. It's harder to lie when something is purely fiction; you've got to do more work to remember everything. But if you take someone you knew and just add the lie on top, then it's easier to remember. Make sure he's from out of state- way out of state- so they don't try to come to the funeral when you kill him off. I'm your sister-in-law. We've met a couple times. I'm not married, though I'm seeing someone steady, and I'm training to be a nurse. Call me... Daisy. And just relax, I'll take care of everything."

""You do NOT look like a Daisy," protested Tara, "Plain, uninteresting girls get names like Daisy."

Oriana rolled her eyes, "Well I'm sure whichever Daisy you're thinking of right now would be devastated to hear that. What name do you recommend, Knowledgeable 18 year old with so much experience creating fake identities?"

"I don't know... Alessandra or Martina," she pauses before adding, "... or maybe," She smiles softly and avoids Ori's eyes as she glances towards Tara, "Annabella."

Oriana sighed.

"Fine."

When they arrived at the party and pulled up next to the other parked cars, Oriana stepped out of the car and removed a bag from the trunk. Oriana looked into the mirror and seemed to stare at herself with an intense focus, fixing her hair and untucking her shirt without breaking eye contact. Then a mirthful smile broke across Annabella's face; it was the kind of smile that was almost irresistible to avoid returning. With a giggle, Annabella picked up her bag and headed toward the bonfire, calling back over her shoulder.

"Come on! We're already late!"

They traveled closely together through the woods; the bonfire was visible in the growing dark. Annabella strode up to it, and she smiled as she could feel the heat of the fire and the many pairs of eyes turn toward her. Her voice was loud, light, and musical; most of the couple dozen people stopped talking to look at her.

"Hey everyone! I hope you don't mind me crashing your party tonight..." She grinned, as if the idea of anyone minding her being there was ridiculous, and at least a few people grinned back at her. "... but my friend Tara here invited me. See, we've got a little something extra to celebrate tonight. And, we brought the celebration with us..."

Reaching down into the bag, Annabella removed a bottle of gin and a bottle of whiskey; there were at least a couple more bottles inside, judging by the sounds. 

"Tara, why don't you tell everyone what we're celebrating tonight before we start passing these around?"

Tara felt the eyes of everyone on her.  She wanted to crawl under a damn rock.  She'd never, not once in all her life, had so many sets of eyes looking at her.  Oh sure, a few times she'd been beside Brigitte when she drew the attention of a group... but nothing like this!  The din of voices had gone almost silent, the crackle of the fire filled her ears and night sounds from the woods made her wish she'd never left Newfoundland. 

"I'm..." She looked to Ori then, holding her gaze a moment before remembering she was supposed to pick a person she knew to lie about being engaged to.  "... I'm getting married."

The only problem was if Tara was being perfectly honest, every name that came to mind was someone already related to her.  She was frozen, a deer in headlights, panic sent her heart racing as she was mobbed by squealing socialites wanting to see the ring and a few guys raised their beers to her in salute and congratulations.  

"Who is he?"

"Where's he from?"

"Which family is he from?"

Her hand was pulled in a thousand directions as the ladies marveled at her 'elegant' adornment.  

"So classy, not gaudy at all."

"The diamond is probably worth a fortune, probably an heirloom."

"What was his name again?"

Tara swallowed and then she forced a smile as in her panic she said the first thing that came to mind, "Orin."  She laughed but she really felt like puking and she dare not look in Ori's direction.

"Oh, he's definitely old money with a name like that!"

"Where's he from?"

"... his family is from Italy."  She scrambled for anything that felt familiar.  "DiCaprio.  Orin DiCaprio."  

"Like the wine family?"

Tara nodded, her face felt on fire.  "The same."

"OH MY GOD!"

"YOU'RE SO LUCKY!"

"I bet he has you move back to Sicily, right?"

"Or at least a honeymoon in the Mediterranian.  Oh, that's going to be amazing!"

"When's the wedding?"

Tara swallowed, "We haven't set a date yet."

One of guys came over pouring a drink as he walked, "A drink for the blushing bride to be..."  He made a fake bow and offered her the cup as if a servant to a Queen.

Tara took it.  She'd never been a drinker but she knew she'd have to at least drink SOMETHING tonight or be seen as a prude.  

"Too Tara and Orin."  A toast was raised by one of the other Harvard guys.

"Tara and Orin!"  The cheers went up.

Tara took a drink from her cup, finally daring a look at Ori.  Sure she'd stepped in it a bit, she took another drink.  This time she nearly finished the glass.  The dusky haired Harvard boy was quick with refilling it though, hovering close by as a loyal cupbearer, his eyes never leaving Tara once. 

Of course, Tara didn't notice... all she could focus on now was making sure she didn't puke.  Every girl wanted to talk to her now, ALL OF THEM, and she'd just used Ori's name as her imaginary fiancee.  Tara dreaded the drive home, and she almost prayed for that bullet she quipped about earlier, to put her out of her misery.

Annabella smiled wide with her hands clasped under her chin as Tara spoke. Her smile didn't falter as she heard the name "Orin". Orin Dicaprio, the wine family. She raised her own glass to toast.

"To Tara and Orin!"

Annabella had successfully launched about a dozen girls at Tara. She retreated to the peripherals of the party, a smiling and enthusiastic phantom who would occasionally drift into Tara's group, reignite the conversation or send it spinning off in another direction, then vanish again. One boy was particularly interested in Tara, and Annabella resolved to keep an eye on him. She considered approaching him and distracting him away from Tara, but if that made the Know-It-All upset it wouldn't be worth it. No, she'd just keep an eye on the guy; Annabella would be ready to head off trouble or step in, if needed.

With any luck, the Mastrosimone girl would start get tired soon and call it an early night, so she could get her guns and get back to work. 

Tara giggled. 

It wasn't something she was used to doing but it was terribly late and apparently alcohol apparently had that effect upon her.  After she finally put down a few glasses, she found everything that was worrying her and stressing her out simply floated away.  She leaned on Claire and stared up at the stars, missing home, but not feeling too upset about it.  Instead, it was a fond, happy feeling, like floating on her back in the water.  

"How'd you meet him?"  Edith Caldwell, a nursing student she'd only met tonight, asked.

"Um... so, he had some business with my mother." She smirked.  Ori had said stick close to the truth and so, relaxed now she decided to do just that.  "It wasn't going well when I walked in, but happily I helped them sort it out.  The minute I saw Orin ... I just knew my life was never going to be the same."

Again she chuckled.

"Is he handsome?"  Emma Carlin, also a nursing student, asked.

"The most attractive thing you ever saw.  These beautiful gray eyes that look like the sky before a storm, strong arms... lithe body..."

The girls who hadn't gone off with their boyfriends or companions for the night giggled with her.  Maybel came back, finally, with her surprise from her car and settled down across from Tara.  She couldn't immediately see what the youngest nursing student had pulled out of her car and she didn't want to sit up to see.

"Have you... ?"  Charlotte Foster started to ask and the other girls immediately began to scold her and giggle but it was clear they only meant it half-hearted.  They had all been talking about their exploits with boys all night, now they wanted the juicy bits about Tara's non-existent love life.  Again, she was grateful for the alcohol.  Some part of her head which was always thinking too much KNEW that she would not have remained calm for this part of the lie.

"No."  she said sadly. 

"You've kissed though... right?"  Claire sat up and looked at Tara with seriousness.

Tara paused, adjusting herself against the log they were propped upon. 

"Well... yeah.  Of course."  She lied.  "I mean, we're getting married.  Of course, we've kissed once."

The other girls kept staring and Tara, expectantly.  She could feel the eyes of the group on her, the buzz she was laboring under wasn't quite enough to ignore it. 

"Well?"  Claire pushed gently, smiling at her.

Maybel began passing around her treasure, a joint, Tara realized.  Now the pressure was worse than before.  Would she refuse?  Isolate herself?  Would she accept and risk looking like an idiot?  And then there was how they were still waiting on her story of a kiss that never happened.  The pressure to share a story that was pure fabrication was terribly intense.  Tara finished her drink, buying herself a moment to think.

Tara blushed when she finished drinking, "I don't kiss and tell.  I'm not that sort of girl."

The other girls laughed and jeered, but with good humor.  They wanted to hear the details but they weren't making Tara talk.  In the shadows, she could see Ori moving towards them and sighed with relief as the other woman came to her rescue before the joint was offered.

"We should go, Tara, big day tomorrow."  Ori smiled at the other girls who made expressions of disappointment but... it was late and so no one was putting up a real fuss.

"Yeah.  You're right."  She stood up.  "Thanks, Annabella."  She said to her companion before looking back to her new 'friends.'  

"Bye Tara!  Bye Annabella!"  The girls were calling out.

"See you tomorrow!" Claire threw out.

Tara waved as she walked through the darkness towards the car with Ori.  It was then Tara realized what a long and boring night Ori probably had.  That, despite her own good time, based in lies as it was, Ori had spent the evening working. Her fucked-up fairy godmother was probably eager to get back to the city now and return to being a contract killer ... leaving behind the quiet life of babysitting forever.  Tara's heart sank a little as she realized the lie was nearly over now and soon everything would be just as it was again - her dress was about to be rags and carriage a pumpkin once more.  She wasn't a really a princess ... just a stupid kid.

Settling down into the passenger seat, she let her head rest on its side looking sleepily at her companion as the car began to pull out of its spot and back out onto the trail that would take them back toward the main road.

Annabella slid into the car and Oriana started it up, backing out and spraying some dirt as she did so. She drove safe enough, but as fast as she could to avoid trouble.

Tara sighed. "Running out of time before you turn back into a pumpkin?"

Oriana sighed. "I assume that's reference to earlier. Kind of. There was some work I was thinking about getting to tonight, but it might be too late. Mostly, I want to get to my guns. They're the only irreplaceable things that I have. I could have brought them in the trunk but... well, I've had to ditch a lot of cars. Did you have fun?"

 Tara smiled. "I did. I didn't think I would, but I did. Who knew the secret to having fun with other people was pretending to be anything but who I am?" She chuckled and then the laugh faded into a more serious tone, "I'm sure your guns are fine. My mom... she's got a set of guns like that too. Probably the only thing she's taken with her on every move we've ever made as a family. I mean, besides us kids of course. Did you get them as a gift?"

"I did. What kind of guns does your mom have?"

"Nickel plated, pearl handled M1911s with the Luciano Family Crest emblazoned on the handles. She calls one Dragon's breath and the other Lion's claw. They've been in the family a while. There's a matching set in black... Dad owns those. I've never seen him pull them out of the box though." She paused, considering only a moment if she should say what came from her drunken lips next. "Her dad killed her mom with them. So, yeah, they're dear too... but different. So I get that weapons can have a lot tied up in them. Not just about who they killed, also about who the person holding them is. Their past, their present... sometimes their future too. What kind of guns do you have?"

"Nice. A little overly dramatic in terms of names, but nice weapons. And... a complicated family."

Tara nodded. "Any family that produces greatness is."

Oriana rolled her eyes, and Tara laughed, saying, "You know, you could stand to laugh a little. Not the fake laugh you did at the party... but real ones."

"I have a Beretta M1923 that I've been training with almost every day since I was fourteen. I also have a silver Colt Single Action Army with a sandalwood grip. I've also have a Beretta pocket pistol in an ankle holster right now."

 Tara's eyes widened. "That's a lot of guns."

Oriana shook her head, saying, "I laugh sometimes. I had a good laugh the other day, actually."

 "What was so funny?" Tara sat up a little.

 "Some housewife almost killed me with a cookie tray. And I almost shot her, which is the funny part, because that cookie tray would have cost me a hundred million bucks."

 Tara was silent a moment. "Mom would seriously lose her shit to be called a housewife, though in fairness it is what she's become."

 "If you have a house, and you're a wife, and you're baking cookies in the middle of the day... you're a housewife."

 Tara nodded. "Yeah, it's just, that wasn't the plan. None of this was. I wasn't the plan. Mom was training with weapons since she could hold them. Fighting earlier than that. The first half of her life was utterly dedicated to becoming the best at what she did... like her Dad. Then, her mom was murdered and her Dad... and ... she had to go into hiding. And then we all started coming along and... now she bakes cookies." Tara drew a breath. "I sometimes wonder what the girl who wrote that journal would think of the woman she ended up becoming... if she would see it as happy choices made or regrettable positions she had to get into to survive. Positions she tried to make the most of."

"You're a philosophical drunk."

Tara giggled, "You're a judgmental ass. But you're interesting." Tara smiles at Ori.

 "Well at least I've got that going for me, then."

Oriana turned to pull in to the school complex.

 "I really did have a good time tonight." Tara said, looking out the windshield.

"Good. Mission accomplished, then. Just remember what I said about making sure you don't get sloppy keeping the secret of your fiancee. Wait until next year, or until you meet someone you're interested in, then have him die in a car accident or something."

Oriana  parked the car and turned it off, quickly popping out to head back to Tara's room.

 Tara slowly gets out of the car and follows her up, beginning to take off the jacket before reaching the door.

 "I know you did this to get my family off your back." She said as they reached the door and she pulled out her keys and unlocked the door, "But I am ... grateful."  Tara waits by the door for Ori to get her guns and holds the coat expectantly.

Oriana quickly slid the chest out of the way and buckled her gunbelt back on her waist. She checks the Beretta, the Colt, and the knife out of habit.

 Tara smiled at Ori, happy her things are safe.

Oriana moved to the door with her thumbs tucked into the front of her belt. "Sure, kid." She paused. "You keep the coat. Drink a glass of water before you go to bed. Don't want your father to think he can torture me because you woke up with a headache." With that, she headed out the door and down the hall.

Tara watched Ori walking down the hall a moment before stepping inside and closing her door. Walking over to the bookshelf she pulled a dog-eared copy of Jane Austin's classic Pride and Prejudice and flopped down onto her bed with it, letting it flop open. Thumbing through she found what she was looking for and rolled over to snatch a pencil off her nightstand. She circled a passage, smiling as she did and put a date beside it. Having read the private thoughts of so many women in her family, Tara could not bring herself to keep a journal... not exactly. But her books were marked with dates, and circled passages like this one. Memories that only she would ever understand and that should , ideally, only ever matter to her. Once gone from this world, her story gone forever. Hers and hers alone to share... or not.