Blending In

by RJ Blain

  I’d miss his shower when I returned home.

  I made it through my shower, got dressed, and dared to invade Chase’s kitchen to devour half a bucket of chicken. I even returned it to his stainless steel refrigerator and cleaned up all evidence of my chicken thievery before Gavin’s curse snapped me back to a chameleon and dumped me onto the tile floor.

  I wanted to call him rude, but rude would’ve been forcing me to transform with my head stuck in his fridge.

  Determined to make the most of my situation, I retreated to the living room to nap. The heated blanket made an ideal nest, and I settled in to wait.

  The night passed, too quiet and tranquil for my liking. I missed my son’s restlessness, his quiet snore, and his tendency to creep out of bed to fix something askew he’d noticed somewhere in our cramped apartment.

  I could get used to the quiet. It would take a few days, that was all. I wouldn’t hunker in my warm nest and whine that my son was enjoying the weeks leading up to Christmas with his father and without me.

  Around dawn, I discovered the truth about Chase Butler. Not only did he rise early, he redefined cranky, transforming into a snarly scrooge. I observed him from the safety of my nest while he stomped around in his boxers.

  I waged a quiet war with myself, losing the battle for a chance at a better view. Taking my time, I emerged, crept along the couch, and stretched out so I could peer into the kitchen.

  Did Chase believe flexing his muscles and stomping around would make his morning better? He could flex all he wanted.

  Early, grumpy riser went into the con category, but Chase wearing boxers while grumpy and stomping around might ruin me for life, convince me he was worth being cursed for, and ensured I’d consider performing acts destined to put me on Santa’s naughty list.

  Permanently.

  Chase wasn’t safe for work or anywhere other than the bedroom when wearing boxers, and I foresaw weeks of silent suffering, enduring a heavenly view without complaint.

  Upon closer observation, I learned tea tamed the grouchy beast. Satisfied he wouldn’t play a game of kick the chameleon, I approached so I could admire him up close and personal. He sipped his tea at the counter, yawning while fiddling with his phone.

  As chameleons were rather limited in the vocals department, I hissed to get his attention.

  He hissed back.

  Okay. I could work with a morning battle of the sexes. I eyed his bare toes, debating which one to nip.

  “I’ll feed you breakfast after I have my tea.”

  Would making tea at stupid AM tame Chase every morning? I stood and lifted my paws to indicate I wanted to be picked up. He sighed, set his mug down, and complied, setting me on the counter. I investigated, taking inventory of everything I would need to make him tea. An electric kettle waited near the sink.

  “Please tell me you’re not a coffee drinker. I don’t have any coffee.”

  While I considered the lack of coffee unfortunate, I’d compromise. I pointed at the kettle. Tea would do.

  I hoped.

  Chase sighed, slid his mug out of the way, and reached for an upper cabinet to fetch a second mug.

  As I liked the idea of questing for a top spot on Santa’s naughty list, I investigated his tea with my tongue.

  Tea tasted better than I expected, so I dunked my head in and drank in large gulps, determined to get as much into my stomach as I could before he stopped me.

  “This is entirely my fault. I didn’t leave anything out for you to drink last night, did I?”

  While he hadn’t, I hadn’t noticed. I gripped the rim of his mug to indicate the transferal of ownership and embarked on my mission to empty the mug.

  Chase made himself a new cup of tea, and I observed where he kept everything between swallows. With the exception of the mugs, I could reach everything else with a little work.

  Once he finished his drink, he opened the fridge and pulled out the bucket of chicken. “What the hell?”

  I drank Chase’s tea and pretended I hadn’t gone on a chicken binge in the middle of the night.

  “You’re a foot long. How did you get into the fridge?”

  I lifted my head out of his mug, tea dripping from my chin.

  “Better question. How did you eat half a bucket of chicken?”

  Tea tasted great when accompanied with early morning entertainment. I’d have to ask—possibly beg—Gavin to let me have future adventures in Chase’s home in the middle of the night.

  No wonder Tiana enjoyed causing so much trouble. Pleased with my first foray into harmless naughtiness, I drank the rest of Chase’s tea and plotted my next act of disobedience.

  It took Chase three cups of tea and a shower to become the social man I couldn’t help but admire. I particularly enjoyed his habit of walking around in his underwear. I couldn’t fathom why, but he saved dressing for absolutely last.

  I wouldn’t complain. If the man wanted to prance around in his boxers for my enjoyment, he could. He knew I was, when Gavin wasn’t being a complete jerk, a woman. He even knew I was a woman with a son.

  To keep me nice and toasty, he packed a small duffle lined with the heated blanket and a throw, which I nested within. He zippered it closed when outside and opened it inside his car.

  “We’ll come up with a better plan at work,” he promised.

  I planned to solve his numeric mystery, and I’d ignore the temptation to waste time so I could hang around longer. The rest of the mess, including the aftermath of my discoveries, would be his problem.

  As always when put in a bad position, I cursed my stupid, pesky morals. Life would be much easier if I allowed myself to cheat a little now and then. Then again, anything other than doing my best would hurt him in one way or another. Once I finished my work, I would go back to being human with occasional chameleon tendencies.

  Chase didn’t visit my real workplace that often.

  If a severe case of grumpy and rising with the sun topped his con list, I’d have to avoid his offices. If he started showing up at work more often, I might need to find a new job, too. At the rate I kept falling for him, I’d never get over my crush.

  Gavin might relent if I begged him enough—or found a potent enough threat. Maybe.

  Later, I’d try, sometime after Chase clued in my purse and phone were on his coffee table rather than melded with my chameleon body. I assumed his case of the morning grumpies came bundled with impaired observation skills. While I added that to the con list, I slipped in a few reminders he spent most of his morning shirtless to the pro list.

  Chase kept quiet the short trip to his work, and when we arrived to his office. I discovered a second computer, identical to the one destroyed, waited on Chase’s desk near his. I scrambled out of the bag and went to work, delighted most of my spreadsheet and data gathering was intact.

  It would take less than five minutes to restore everything to rights.

  “I told you,” Chase murmured, thumping into his seat. “I’ll apologize in advance for the never-ending wave—”

  Chase’s father strode into the office armed with a steaming bucket of my favorite chicken. The older man joined the pro list, and I breathed in deep to enjoy the delicious aroma wafting in my direction.

  “—of individuals determined to bother us. Where did you get that at seven in the morning, Dad?”

  “I asked really nicely and paid for it. I called them last night after I left. This is a gift for your little lady for putting up with you. She needs all the gifts I can wrangle, as it seems you both survived an entire evening together. Consider it a celebratory present. If she agrees, you can even have some.”

  Chase leaned back in his chair and scowled at his father. “She stole my tea this morning and somehow got into the fridge last night.”

  “Poor Chase. Someone screwing up your precious morning routine is good for you. I came by to tell you that your second number cruncher is in her new office, and she’s itching for trouble. Unfortunately, it seems the of
fice has a healthy sense of self-preservation, as it appears no one is willing to anger the young gorgon.”

  Since I wouldn’t be able to concentrate with them yapping, I stopped working and reached for the bucket. Chase’s father removed the lid and used it as a plate, peeling off some skin and offering it to me. It crunched just the way I liked it, and while I waged war with my first bite, father and son shredded the meat for my enjoyment.

  They offered me three big pieces.

  Both men elevated themselves on the pro list, and I’d even ignore all the morning grumpiness if it got me fed chicken every morning.

  “So, who did you bring in? You said she’s a gorgon?”

  “She’s a young gorgon new to the area; she’s been on her own for a while. She’s too old to stay with her father’s hive, but she’s too vocal to easily find a new one. She’s rather feministic for a gorgon, which means she doesn’t fit in the gorgon family structure very well. She seems oddly monogamous, too—which will make having any children difficult for her at best. She needs the money, and she’s reliable.”

  “It’s probable I’ll be hiring some new full-time employees soon. Train her in a solid role. If she does well, I’ll make room for her.”

  “You need a proper assistant, Chase. You can’t keep stealing interns or the receptionist in her downtime.”

  “I don’t see why not. Anyway, I have a plan for my lack of an assistant. I’ll let you know if it doesn’t work out. Can you teach this gorgon the nuances of data gathering and reporting?”

  “I’ll add contract reading, invoicing, and fulfilling purchase orders to the mix. Her name is Michella Darven. She’s twenty-three. As a warning, she hasn’t graduated high school. Her hive had difficulties before she was essentially evicted.”

  “Pitch an opportunity to finish her diploma and continuing education. I’ll adjust her hours if she’d like to attend school. How is she with animals?”

  I paused in devouring my second breakfast to stare at Chase, unable to comprehend what animals had to do with data reports.

  “I’ll ask. Why do you want to know?”

  “Our charity drive this year involves animal shelters. I offered a bonus to all employees who do fifty hours of volunteer work for the location animal shelters next year—and another bonus if they do ten hours this year. I sent a memo to all employees last month with a list of the eligible shelters.”

  “I’ll let her know. Anything else?”

  “For the record, I’m not paying you a bonus. I’m not paying you anything at all. You’re retired. Retired, old men do not come to work and get paid for it.”

  “You’re moody this morning. I’m being helpful. I even brought your lady chicken.”

  “You’re still not getting paid, you’re not being hired in any capacity, and I fully expect you to go home to Mom sometime sooner than later. Bringing Miriah chicken ensured I didn’t call security right away. As you brought her something she enjoys, I won’t even complain if you linger. I’ll even let you play on a computer in the empty office down the hall.”

  “If you’d hire an assistant, that office wouldn’t be empty.”

  “Please go away so I can get some work done.”

  To my amazement, Chase’s father obeyed.

  Numbers always told a story, transforming themselves into an unbiased entity I named the truth. Using the database Chase provided, I found an old tale, one that would keep me awake at night. As suspected, someone was skimming money.

  The amount paid to some companies worked out to be approximately ten percent higher than what was listed in the reports before January. It took some work, but I figured out the source of the discrepancy readily enough.

  Chase’s company used several reporting methods for performance, and every company seemed to have an extra expenses allowance. When I removed the extra expenses from the newer reports, the figures fell into line with the older reports.

  I didn’t understand why they’d excluded the extra expenses figures before January and added them during January, thus skewing the figures. I pinpointed the formula that drew in the extra expenses into the mix, but no matter how long I stared at it, the why of the tale eluded me.

  One fact stuck out to me: long before January, the extra expenses figures for twenty key companies hovered consistently near ten percent—never over, and never far under. I could think of one person who could give me the intel I needed to solve the puzzle: Chase.

  I left my workstation and sat beside his keyboard. His gaze remained locked on his monitor. Amused by the depth of his concentration, I observed him work for a few minutes. When it became clear he wouldn’t notice me anytime soon, I reached over and tapped his hand.

  Chase took flight, knocked his chair over, and yelped. The instant his feet hit the floor, he bolted to the door, skidding to a halt and reaching for the knob without quite touching it.

  I longed for a camera to capture his expression, a mix of horror and embarrassment.

  “I forgot you were there,” he admitted. “Karma chameleons are quiet.”

  I pointed at his keyboard, hoping he’d understand I needed to tell him something.

  “I’ll be there as soon as my heart rate returns from orbit. I like working when it’s quiet, but I forget I’m not alone sometimes. Would you be offended if I gave you a little bell to wear?”

  I put his suggestion I should be collared with a bell at the top of his con list and hissed at him.

  “I can work with a hiss instead. A very, very soft hiss. Very soft.”

  A better woman would’ve complied with his request. Me? I planned to find new and interesting ways to startle him when he forgot I was there. I wouldn’t touch him, but I would reserve soft hissing for special occasions. If I startled him enough times in new and interesting ways, I’d see the real him, the one he surely hid from the rest of the world.

  I patted the side of his monitor since his keyboard hadn’t summoned him.

  Chase straightened, adjusted his tie, dusted himself off, and returned to his desk. Shaking his head, he righted his chair and sat. “How can I help you?”

  I shuffled to his keyboard and pointed at his monitor. He opened his word processor, saving me from a bitter battle with his mouse.

  I typed up a brief explanation about the extra expenses category and made my request for additional information.

  “I can find out for you, but I can tell you this much. We have that fund, and according to company policies, it shouldn’t be heavily used. The only difference you noticed was a changed formula that included the extra expenses accounts?”

  I nodded.

  “This has been a problem for longer than I thought, then?”

  I nodded again.

  “Well, shit.”

  I understood. While I wanted to test his limits, I’d wait for a more appropriate opportunity. Skittering back to my computer, I returned to work.

  Chapter Eight

  A meeting called Chase out of his office, and after one incident of assault, I decided to take no chances. The curtains made an excellent hiding place, and the heat vent below the window kept me almost as warm as the blanket on the desk. I picked the pleats at the top for my roost, gripping the material and metal rings holding the fabric to secure myself.

  Snow swirled outside, heavy enough I suspected Chase might want to walk home rather than test his luck on the roads. I’d enjoy the trip if he insisted I ride in his jacket. I gave it equal odds of happening.

  While the blankets inside the duffle would keep me warm, tucked close to Chase came with the added bonus of a sense of security, something I’d never admit to anyone.

  The snow fell harder until it shrouded the city in a pale haze. I loved the sense of the world growing still and quiet around me, the wind and snow hissing against the window. Winter always seemed to arrive on silent feet, taking me by surprise each time a storm rolled in and transformed the city into a sparkling paradise.

  The door creaked open, and I peeked over the curtai
n.

  Denise narrowed her eyes, took a long look around, and relaxed when she realized she was alone—or so she thought. She strode to the desk and headed for my workstation. At every job I worked at, the first thing I did was change the password on the computer so no one could meddle with my files. My habit served me well; after three failed attempts to gain access to my machine, she cursed and stole glances at the door, growing tenser with every passing moment.

  Poking at my work didn’t make her the primary culprit, but I’d be a fool to ignore the obvious. I doubted a receptionist had the skills needed to manage altering the complex report, which implied she was only part of the puzzle plaguing Chase.

  When she couldn’t unlock my system, she cursed some more, dipped her hand into her pocket, and sprinkled a pale powder on my keyboard and blanket, then she blew it around to mask her activities.

  What a bitch.

  Unwilling to alert her to my presence, I swallowed my desire to hiss and blended in with the curtain.

  Denise left after wasting a few more minutes battling with my computer. She closed the door a little too hard behind her, and it bounced in the frame and popped open enough for me to slip out if I wanted.

  What had she used on my computer and in my nest? That she’d go to such lengths bothered me. Was the substance toxic to humans, too? Was it toxic to me?

  I assumed so.

  I couldn’t allow her to hurt Chase, not after he’d done so much for me. Climbing down the curtain, I headed for his desk and used his chair to investigate.

  The alluring scent of almonds teased my nose.

  Who had told her I was allergic to almonds? I hissed at the blanket and contaminated keyboard. Almond flour wouldn’t hurt Chase, but I’d be miserably itching within minutes. Had only part of the conversation at the restaurant been heard? Inconveniencing me with almond flour made no sense. Anyone with a scrap of sense could figure out someone meddled. The flour left a residue everywhere. Had I been completely oblivious, I wouldn’t have noticed before touching, but her blowing it around hadn’t done much to hide its presence.