Birth of Adam (Artificial Intelligence Book 2) (9 page)

Amanda woke up feeling safe and loved.

“Good morning, my dear,” Adam’s British voice spoke in her ear.

She smiled and then realized she lay in someone’s arm’s

“Try not to wake him. Mark spent most of the night watching over you and he’s very tired. Just lie there and listen while I talk.”

She suspected “lecture” was more like it, but she remained in Mark’s arms.

“Despite your promise to Jules, you must not room with Beth Hamilton. I have extracted her medical data. She is mentally unstable and has learned from past experiences that her father will fix any mistake she makes. I advise you stay far away from Beth, but when you must speak to her, remain polite but aloof. I have improved the school’s security and they now have security cameras in all rooms.

“I must warn you that the dorms are a hovel. I know Jules wishes you to live with the other students, but in case you change your mind, or it becomes necessary for your safety, I have purchased a lovely brownstone across the street. Andrew and his wife and son will live on the upper floor. Your clothes will be in the master bedroom, since there is minimal closet space in the dorms. You may wish to practice at the house. The acoustics are very fine in the music room and the piano is exquisite. In addition, the library possesses a fine collection of music. However, the books are mostly in French, which you need to learn to read and speak. So if you will ease me out of your shirt pocket, we can begin your French lessons.”

Since Amanda was ordered to be quiet so Mark could sleep, she had to touch the screen to identify which bubblehead spoke the words matching the event that had appeared on the screen. She had never learned a language like that before, but suspected it was how a baby learned—no printed words, no vocabulary lists to memorize, just a trail of sounds that corresponded with an action.

If she chose wrong, the program showed her selected situation. This was frequently amusing and sometimes gory as the bubblehead found itself run over by a car or fed poison at a restaurant.

She had been studying for three hours when Mark’s hand slid onto her breast. While it gave her pleasure, she removed it.

He pulled away and sat up. “Sorry,” he said, then cursed. “That can’t be right! What time is it?”

Adam displayed the time on her screen. “12:03.”

“Oh shit! We’ve missed our flight!”

“No we haven’t,” she assured him. “The flight’s not ‘til four.”

“Somebody’s screwing with you,” Mark moaned. “Our flight was at eleven this morning.”

“He’s correct on both counts,” Adam said. “You’re flying in a private jet. There’s room if you want to invite Mark.”

“This isn’t good,” Mark muttered as he banged his head softly against her wall. She sat up and placed her hand between his head and the wall. “I’m traveling by private jet at four this afternoon. You can come with me if you want.”

He stopped and stared at her. “Seriously?”

She nodded, and smiled at his relief. For a moment he looked as if he was going to kiss her, but then pulled back, no doubt remembering his promise to her.

“You have no idea how much this means to me. The school buys non-refundable/non-changeable tickets on the cheap. If you miss the flight, the ticket is worthless and you have to buy a new one with your own funds. I don’t have the money, which meant I was going to have to call Jules and beg for a loan.”

Amanda grimaced at the thought. “No need to do that. You can call Jules and tell him you’re traveling with me.”

“Yeah, I’d better call him before someone tells him I didn’t make the flight,” Mark admitted, and pulled out his phone.

Evidently someone had already spoken to Jules, because a second later he was screaming loudly enough that Amanda could hear him three feet away.

“Where the hell are you? I know where you aren’t! You aren’t on the flight to Europe! You’d better have a damn good explanation as to why you missed your flight, and it damn well better not include alcohol, parties or girls. Are you with Amanda? If you’re the reason she’s missed her flight as well, I swear to God, Mark, I will break both your damn legs!”

“Amanda has a private jet leaving at four today, and she asked me if I’d like to go with her. Nothing is screwed up, Jules. We’ll just arrive better rested and a lot more pampered than originally anticipated.”

Amanda could no longer hear Jules’ side of the conversation, because he had stopped yelling. However, from Mark’s furrowed brow and his constant apologies, she didn’t think he was out of hot water just yet. When Mark handed her his phone, she realized she was in for a scolding as well.

Jules’s lecture was tolerable. In the future, he wanted to know in advance if she planned to deviate from the schedule.

She almost told him she hadn’t realized she was deviating from anything, since her itinerary had always said her flight was at four, but decided to simply agree and hope Adam would honor the pact.

When she handed Mark the phone and he verified Jules had hung up, he collapsed on the bed. “I thought someone had altered your itinerary and we were both screwed.”

“Actually, your instincts were pretty good on the first part. My itinerary always said four. Adam simply altered my mode of travel since I had so much luggage.”

Mark stared at the two large trunks, then sighed as if he had bad news. “Look, I’ll give you all my closet space, but even then our dorm room...” He stopped. “You are going to room with me, aren’t you? Because the only person who could have gotten your itinerary altered was Beth, which proves she hates you.”

Amanda laughed at his worried expression. “I’ll try rooming with you. If not, I’ll go live with my clothes across the street.”

“Excuse me?”

“Adam purchased space for Andrew, his wife and his son, Martin, across from the school. My clothes will reside there.”

“Who’s Andrew?”

“The driver whose son was in the scholarship youth group that played first at the recital.”

“The ghetto kids?”

“I doubt they like that title,” she scolded.

“Your driver has a loft across from the school?”

“It sounds really nice, too.”

“Is there room for me?”

“We have a dorm room,” she reminded him.

“Those dorms are crap.”

“I know, but I might miss part of the experience if I live apart from the other students.”

“Yeah, you’ll miss childish pranks and people doctoring your toothpaste, shampoo, and food. Even if the students didn’t hate you, which they do, the dorms are damp and cold, with mold growing everywhere. Last year, everyone came down with allergies and coughs, which is hard for instrumentalists, but for a vocalist it’s a death knoll.”

“Well, at least let me try,” Amanda insisted.

“Okay, but the first sniffle, and I want your word we’ll go live with your clothes.”

She liked the fact he had used her playful expression, so she let slide the fact he had invited himself to live there as well.

At one o’clock, Andrew arrived and carried her trunks down. He apologized for not having done so yesterday, but explained she had been sleeping when he’d returned, and Adam had said not to disturb her.

“We’ll need to stop by and pick up Mark’s luggage as well.”

“Not a problem, miss.”

The trunks went into a van while they climbed into the Bentley. Mark waved at some students on the green, then climbed into the back. “I could get used to this.”

“What?” Amanda asked, looking around for whatever had made him so happy.

“Driving in Bentleys.”

“The seats are comfortable, and it’s roomy,” she said as she appreciatively bounced about.

Mark shook his head.

The stop at Mark’s took a bit longer than anticipated, and when he returned, he looked like a million bucks in his double-breasted fine wool suit.

“Dressing up for the Bentley?” she teased.

“From Jules’ threats to my kneecaps, I assume he is now your agent. Did you not hear a word he said last night?”

“Which word in particular? He had so many.”

Mark laughed. “Yeah, he loves to lecture, but he really is one of the best in the industry, and the reason why is because he pays attention to details that other agents leave to the artist, such as clothes. If you show up wearing that, he may kill you.”

“He’s not going to be there to meet our plane, is he?”

“No.”

“Then not to worry,” she assured him.

Mark sighed. “You know, I made a pretty good splash last year in Europe. It’s possible there will be paparazzi at the airport.”

“Yes, but they’ll be at the United terminal, six hours before we arrive.”

“There’s a strong chance Jules will have alerted them to the change of arrival and terminal gate. He’s very good about such details. In fact, I’m stunned he didn’t tell you to dress up when he was lecturing you on the phone this morning.”

Adam’s voice spoke in her ear. “Don’t worry. You can change on the plane.”

“All my clothes are in my trunks,” she admitted, feeling very foolish.

Andrew spoke up from the front. “Don’t worry, miss. We’ll take care of it before we load your trunks.”

Amanda thanked him and pulled out her phone to learn more French. The program intrigued Mark, and she ended up snuggled against his chest so he could see the screen as well.

Once at the airport, in the privacy of the van, Amanda sorted through the trunk to acquire the precise items Adam advised. She was certain Adam could outdo Jules on attention to detail, since he specified not just the skirt, blouse and jacket, but the hat, scarf, jewelry, hose, panties and bra to be worn.

Once she’d transferred her outfit to a carry-on bag, she and Mark proceeded through an exclusive security gate. An attendant escorted them to the plane, where she noticed a black woman and boy seated in the back. She forgot all about the pretty flight attendant flirting with Mark and hurried to the woman.

“Are you Andrew’s wife?”

The woman stood up. “Sondra,” she said, and shook Amanda’s hand. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”

“Call me Amanda,” she insisted, and turned to the boy. “And you’re Martin. You played beautifully at the recital.”

The boy grew very interested in his hands, presently twisting a paper napkin into rope.

“Martin is a bit shy,” Sondra explained.

“And extremely talented,” Amanda added.

“We’re so pleased Mr. Webb has given us this opportunity.”

The flight attendant interrupted, saying the plane was ready for departure once she sat down.

“Where’s Andrew?” Amanda asked.

“Right here, Miss Amanda,” Andrew replied, coming up the aisle. “I’ve checked that your luggage is secured. Do you need anything else?”

“No, I’m exceptionally well-pampered today,” she assured him, and followed the flight attendant to her seat, where Mark insisted on buckling her in.

“I have flown on a plane before,” she scolded, finally noticing her surroundings. “But not like this.” Her seat was so wide she and Mark could have shared it comfortably, but what she truly liked was the sensation she rested on clouds.

She noticed Mark drinking a glass of wine. “Don’t make me tell Jules on you,” she teased.

“We’re allowed two wines,” he reminded her.

“So where’s mine?”

“Too late now. You ran off to visit the servants.”

Amanda frowned. “They aren’t servants. They are very nice people with a talented son.”

“They work for you, don’t they?”

“Andrew is Adam’s driver.”

“And who does Andrew drive?”

“Currently, he’s not driving. He’s sitting in a plane with his wife and son. I expect there are two pilots up there driving this plane to our appropriate runway. Should I consider them servants as well?”

Mark arched his right eyebrow. “I gather you don’t approve of the word ‘servant’. I’ll refrain from saying ‘ghetto’ or ‘servant’ in the future.”

“It’s the attitude I don’t like, Mark. We’re all just people trying to have a purpose in life. Your purpose is playing the violin. Martin’s is the cello. Mine is singing. The pilot’s is flying. Sondra’s is raising a family and Andrew’s—God bless his soul—is looking after me.”

Mark smiled. “When you state it like that, I almost envy the fellow. And who is Martin?”

“The very talented cello player from last night.”

“Ah...you know, you pissed a lot of people off, standing up for those kids but not for your fellow students.”

“Why the hell would they care who I stand up for?”

“Because you were sitting between Harold Tilson and Jules Bavard. Because you’re living the dream life every one of them wants, and they’re trying to figure out how you got it.”

“Then why aren’t they watching you and getting pissed off? Seems to me you’re closer to achieving your aspirations than I am.”

“Only slightly, but they do watch me, and I always stand and applaud them. I go out of my way to remember their names and to compliment them when they do something well. I spend a great deal of time trying to get along. Do you remember the first thing I said to you?”