Grifter|| A Love Story||

8

I took a deep breath, trying to compose myself, and opened the heaviest door in history. Greeted by two middle-aged men. In black suits, ties, and dark sunglasses. They were really your stereotypical FBI guys from TV.  

Ok, Lex, you got this. 

"Can I help you?" I asked sweetly, wiping my dirty garden glove across my forehead. Anything to mask my very wanted face. If dirt would do that somehow. Sometimes I wished I could have gotten a magical face transplant to erase my identity completely. 

"Are you a miss, Betty Draper?" The man with dark hair and grey beard asked, narrowing his eyes in on me. His voice raising an octave as he asked, brows immediately raised.  He must get the reference. Mad Men fan? God I hoped not--not now! 

Fuck, Betty, keep working for me now. Don't let this name be my downfall and prove Bastien right. Because if he got a whiff he was right, I'd never hear the end of his I told you so's. It could get so annoying. 

I smiled again, shaking my head to confirm I was the Betty Draper they were looking for. Trying to be hyper-aware of every breath, movement, and laugh. Which was more intimidating than the men in front of me. I couldn't fuck up now or they'd know in an instant. 

"Yes, how can I help you?" The other man, the blonde, reached into his pocket, revealing a shiny FBI badge. Which again, I had to act so surprised they FBI was at my door. I seriously needed an Oscar for this performance. 

"I'm Agent Moore and this is Agent Fry. We are with the FBI. We were hoping to ask you a few questions." He said, placing his badge back into his pocket. I tried not to swallow hard and shook my head. 

"Uh--sure. About what?" I asked, swallowing the nervousness in my closing throat. Don't sweat, I thought feeling the heat fill my face. Flushing my features with a bright scarlet. And it wasn't because of the weather--no. It was my shitty lying skills. You're a confidence woman, damnit. Get your shit together. 

I stepped out onto the porch now, closing the front door behind me. I couldn't chance them seeing a peek of my house, especially if Bastian pulled what be did the last time I answered the door. Gun drawn, standing behind it, it'd be a stupid move, but it was Bastian I was talking about. An idiot, but my idiot. 

"Miss Draper, we were hoping you could help us in finding this man." He laid a picture in my hand and this time I had to actually try and hold back the gasp in my throat. 

Buzz Cut blonde hair, deep brown eyes(so not his natural color), and freckles. Wait, he didn't have freckles or a mole above his right eye. How in the hell did this boy pull that off? Smooth move Bas, really dedicated to the con-job. 

I shook my head, "Hmm-no, I'm sorry. I haven't seen him, I don't know who this is." I handed it back to them as if it were a disease, trying to seem confused. They nodded to each other, having a silent conversation with each other. One I wished I could hear. 

"And this house, Miss Draper, you bought it from a Layla and Arthur Campbell?" He looked up from some paperwork in his hand, meeting my nervous eyes. 

"Mmhmm-- I've been here for 4 years, I think, give or take" I flashed them a smile. 

It was a half-truth, after my abandonment in Tennessee. I moved here with my very understanding grandma, who took me back into her reluctant arms no problem. Of course, hiding my identity from everyone else, she really was great to me when I didn't deserve it. 

"Any contact with the Campbell's granddaughter? A one-- Alexis Campbell?" I shook my head no again, trying not to let my body shake. I had never been this close to getting caught before and my hair stood on end. They could grab me and take me to prison forever.