Secret Keeper

by Harlan, Christopher

  “Oh. There was something she kept saying to me over and over again. She seemed really nervous about it.”

  “What was that?” Chandler asks.

  “She wanted me to tell you that she wasn’t going to go to the press. She said it to me like three times. Made me promise that I’d tell you.”

  “How did she know that we were going to speak?”

  Shit. I forgot about that part. “I. . . I may have told her that I worked for you, just so I could make her leave. It seemed to work.”

  A grin comes across Chandler’s face. “Very creative. I like it.”

  “Thank you. I’m not sure what she meant with the press thing.”

  He doesn’t respond that. He just looks away from me for the first time during the conversation and thinks about what I just told him. “Okay,” he finally says, breaking the temporary silence. “Don’t worry about that, I have people who can run damage control on that sort of thing.”

  “No problem,” I tell him. “I just wanted to let you know.”

  “I have an idea, Dylan.”

  “What’s that?”

  “You seem to be very good at what you do—and not just because Graham says that you are. Teresa is capable of. . . let’s call it irrational behavior, as I’m sure you got to witness. When she’s in that state it’s hard to get her out of it, so the fact that you got her away from my home and out of the building without the police being called speaks volumes of your skills at PR. I won’t ask you how you did it, but it’s impressive nonetheless.”

  “Thank you.” I’ve only been around Chandler for a few minutes, but I already dislike almost everything about him. On one hand I’m fascinated by guys like this—the guys who work their way up to the level of success that he has. At the same time, the guy is every cliché in the book—entitled, smug, arrogant, and his only concern seems to be with making sure things don’t get in his way. And those mixed feelings are the reason I’m not sure about whether the fact that he’s impressed with what I did is a good thing, or a bad thing.

  I guess I’ll decide later. For the time being I need a job, so I’ll jump through whatever hoops I need to jump through to not have a gap in my employment. Something tells me that to get this job those hoops are going to be substantial.

  “There are three things that I need done—all of which are crucially important and all of which must be done exactly in the manner in which I ask them be done. If you can show me that you can accomplish all three of these tasks, then you’ll have the position as my PA. Agreed?”

  I don’t like what I’m hearing. I don’t like the idea of having to do Lord-knows-what just to prove to this guy that I can do the job I already do. But I feel stuck. Graham vouched for me, and stopping at the wrong floor earlier today put me directly in this man’s personal drama. Now I feel like I have no choice.

  “Alright,” I say. “Tell me what you need me to do.”

  “I think we need to finish this discussion in private. No offense, Graham.”

  “None taken,” he says. “I think my work here is done anyway.” Graham pats me on the back on his way out. I turn back to Chandler with the soft click of a door closing as Graham makes his exit from the apartment.

  “So, tell me.”

  For the first time since I walked into the room, Chandler smiles. It frightens me.

  11

  Dylan

  I go back to my place and fall down on my couch.

  My head is spinning.

  Before I think about the rest of the conversation I just had with Chandler, I need to text Penelope. I know I told her I’d text her, which now I’m thinking was super inappropriate—but I don’t have the energy anymore. On top of that I need time to think. I take out my phone and text her, refusing to be the guy that ghosts her right off the bat.

  Me: Hey, it’s Dylan. I’m so sorry but can I take a rain check until tomorrow? Drama.

  Penelope: I think I could teach a course on drama at the local college at this point. I get it. No worries. Text me in the morning and we’ll see what we’re both doing.

  Me: Okay. Goodnight. Thanks for understanding.

  Penelope: No worries. Get some rest.

  What she doesn’t know is that most of the conversation I just had involved her in one way or the other. Here’s how it went down. After Chandler told me about this job interview bullshit, he laid out the things he needed me to do, all the while wearing that evil grin on his face.

  “First, I need this Teresa situation taken care of. I can’t have this upsetting my company’s acquisition in these final stages, and it’s one of those things that could pop up exactly when I don’t need it to. Especially with her proclivities towards the dramatic.”

  “Okay. What do you want me to do exactly?”

  “That’s up to you. I’ll give you whatever resources you need, but I want you to find a solution to that particular problem. Go talk with her. See what she’s thinking, feeling, all that. Then report back to me.”

  Resources? What the hell did that even mean? “Alright,” I said hesitantly. “What else?” I ask, as if that weren’t enough.

  “There’s a reporter—Tomas Snyder—who’s planning on writing a hit piece on my company’s upcoming merger. He’s called the office several times asking for interviews with some of my people, but I have a companywide directive not to speak to the media. But I want to know what he knows without giving him too much information about the inner workings of my business. You’re an outsider—I want you to contact Tomas Snyder. I want you to find out what he knows, in exchange for an exclusive interview about the workings of my company. You’ll tell him that you’re a disgruntled ex-employee who wants to go on record. I’ll be feeding you all of the information you’ll give him, and, in exchange, you’ll gather all the information you can on what he plans to publish, and when. Agreed?”

  My head was spinning. First, he needed me to deal with his pregnant mistress—whatever ‘dealing’ with it meant. That would be a lot in and of itself, but after that he wanted me to be his spy too! What the hell did I get myself into? “I can do that. And what’s the last thing?” I asked, not fully prepared for the madness about to come out of his mouth.

  “The last task is the hardest, and needs to be handled with the greatest of care, Dylan. It involves my fiancé, Penelope.” The second he said her name, I had the weirdest reaction—even though he was talking about the woman he’s going to marry, I suddenly felt very protective towards her. “As you can imagine, she’s quite upset about this whole Teresa situation. I tried to assure her that this was just a bump in the road, but you know how women can be, they don’t always use their heads the way we do.”

  It took everything I had to not spit in his face and walk out the door. “Sure. I understand. But what exactly do you want me to do with your fiancé?” I already know what I want to do with her, but I’m guessing you had other ideas.

  “I want you to convince her that it’s in her best interest to come back to me. To settle things. To move forward with our marriage, as planned. I need that more than anything else. Can you do that for me, Dylan?”

  I know when I’m being tested, and that it wasn’t just a job interview—it was a test of what I’m capable of and how far I’m willing to go to keep him happy. With his reach and media empire, Chandler Daniels has about as much power as any politician or judge in the city, yet he’s given me zero guidance as to how I’m supposed to execute any of the nearly impossible tasks he’d just laid out for me.

  “You’ll have two weeks to complete the first two tasks. The last is. . . of a more sensitive and long-term nature. I understand that may take a little longer. But should you complete these tasks, as described, then your future as my PA will be more than guaranteed, and I’ll make you richer than you’ve ever dreamed of being. Do we have a deal, Dylan?”

  There are moments in life where things change forever—where a fork in the road can lead you either left or right, each with entirely different outcomes. I kn
ew when Chandler stuck his hand out to shake mine that I was having one of those moments.

  I don’t know what that means, exactly. I don’t know where my agreement to perform all of Chandler Daniels’ dirty little chores was going to lead me, but I knew I had to say yes.

  But it’s the reason I said yes that surprised me. When he stuck out his hand, I had this moment of complete clarity, like I haven’t had in my entire life. I knew exactly why I’d agreed to do things that I was not only uncomfortable with, but were borderline unethical, and that reason had nothing to do with his promise to make me a rich man.

  The reason I said yes—the only reason—was for her.

  Saying yes gives me a permanent reason to be around Penelope without having to be afraid that I’m doing something wrong. And the more I think about her, the more I want to be around her. I don’t know why—it doesn’t make sense. We had a moment a few months ago, and I thought that she was as into me as I was into her, but I figured it was just a passing thing. But seeing her vulnerability and her beauty before reminded me of that moment—when I looked in her eyes and she looked into mine, and each of us experienced something that set our bodies on fire.

  Now I have only one decision left to make. . .

  Do I tell her that I just made a deal with her devil of a fiancé?

  12

  Dylan

  The next day

  Today was a normal day, and by normal I don’t mean some nine-to-five office gig—that’s not my life anymore. I used to work all kinds of jobs: construction, plumbing, I even tried that sitting in a cubicle shit for a while, but none of it was for me.

  Not that there’s anything wrong with that kind of work, but I’m an adrenaline junkie—I love the risk that comes with my job.

  What kind of risks?

  Take this whole Chandler Daniels situation—aka, my new potential boss—he’s given me a job filled with all sorts of dangers. Basically, I have three giant hoops to jump through, and today I’m going to work on two of them. Right now, I’m on my way to deal with this reporter guy. I did like I was told. I called and told this Tomas character that I wanted to do an interview where I exposed Chandler’s darkest business secrets. He went for it, hook, line, and sinker, so we decided to meet.

  But before that, I stopped for another Cuban espresso. Today, I got a double.

  I took care of what I needed to take care of at the building, mostly involving making sure the tenants are taken care of, but also handing most of the responsibilities over to the other building manager, George. Once all of that was handled, I headed out.

  I’m in an Uber on my way to meet Snyder now. His building is only ten minutes away by GPS, but, in Manhattan traffic time, that might as well be the entire morning.

  The trip was long, but took less time than I thought it would, which allowed me even more time to go over my role. Here’s what I was sent via email by one of Chandler’s people: I’m Dylan Carlyle, a former low mid-level manager who’d worked for the social media platform of Chandler’s multimedia empire. I was passed over for three different promotions, which I believe is due to my unwillingness to go along with some of the unethical practices that Chandler’s companies have been accused of.

  This whole thing makes me feel like I’m in one of those spy movies—the type where a new operative goes deep undercover and has to memorize the details of their new identity. Right now, I’m not Dylan Murphy, personal assistant to the rich and famous, I’m Dylan Carlyle, a disgruntled ex-employee of Chandler Daniels, out to blow the roof off of his entire operation by exposing its corruption.

  Let’s see if I can execute.

  Inside, the building is buzzing. I find the main desk and the guy directs me to the eleventh floor. The closer I get to Tomas’ office the more nervous I feel. But this is hardly the craziest thing I’ve had to do working for people like Chandler—it’s just the one I feel the weirdest about. Just wait until I have to talk to his crazy baby mamma and Penelope.

  I find my way to his office and knock on the door. I’m not sure why I expected an older guy, but Tomas looks to be about my age—maybe even a little younger. He’s dressed in a tee shirt and dress pants, and looks nothing like the stereotypical image I have in my mind of what a reporter should look like. Probably read too many Spider-Man comics as a kid because I was expecting a J. Jonah Jameson-like character to greet me. Instead I see the warm smile of a very normal looking guy.

  “Mr. Carlyle, how are you?”

  Right. That’s me. Good old Mr. Carlyle. I shake his hand. “I’m good, thanks. This building is huge.”

  “I know. I still get lost sometimes. Please, come sit.” The building might be huge but his office is small and messy. I sit down on the chair on the other side of his desk and he sits across from me. “I have to say, I’m a little surprised that you were willing to go on record. You might not know this, but I’ve contacted no fewer than seventeen different current and past employees of Mr. Daniels, and none were willing to discuss even the most pedestrian aspects of their jobs. Therefore, I was a little shocked that you contacted me.”

  Shit. He thinks I’m faking it. He knows I’m playing double agent right now. I try not to let the doubt show on my face. My heart starts racing a little too fast, so I breathe in deeply and try to slow everything down. Then I decide to really sell this story.

  “There’s an expression, Mr. Snyder.”

  “Tomas, please.”

  “Fine. There’s an expression I’m sure you’ve heard, Tomas—'a man who has nothing to lose is a dangerous man’. And, right now, I have nothing to lose.”

  “How so?” he asks.

  “Since losing my job, I’ve lost my wife, I’ve had to move into a shitty little apartment, and Chandler Daniels did all that he could to smear my name all over this city, making sure I’m not hireable at any other social media company that matters. He ruined my life, and now I’m here to return the favor.”

  “Interesting. Having spoken briefly with some of the other ex-employees—and by briefly, I mean for the few seconds they gave me on the other end of a phone call before hanging up—they mentioned that all employees at Daniels have to sign a non-disclosure agreement. I assume that’s the case with you as well?”

  “Of course. You have to sign an NDA before they even offer you a position, it’s mandatory in all of his businesses.”

  “So, then, you realize that by going on record with me that you may be subject to litigation?”

  The record. Chandler didn’t give me any direction except to feel this guy out, so I’m going to have to play this intelligently as to not mess everything up and have the situation blow up in my face. “I realize that’s a possibility, sure. But, like I said, I have nothing left to lose. If he wants to bring his team of high-powered attorneys to come get my tiny little apartment, he’s welcomed to it. But I don’t think he’s going to do that.”

  “Really?” he asks. “And why wouldn’t he? From what I know of the man, he’s notorious for his lawsuits. He’s litigated—or tried to litigate—a record number of lawsuits against competitors, ex-employees, and city administrators through the years. Why would you be any different?”

  “Tomas, are you familiar with law 740 of the New York State labor law statute?”

  “The whistleblower law?”

  “That’s right.”

  “I am,” he says. “But that’s only applicable if you can offer concrete evidence of wrongdoing or outright illegality in Mr. Daniels’ business practices. Can you offer anything like that?”

  Now here’s where I need to be careful. I don’t want to say anything I’m not supposed to, so I need to think on my feet. “The thing is, Tomas, I didn’t tell the entire truth a minute ago.”

  “How so?”

  “Well, the truth is, I do have one thing left to lose that I care about. My wife and I have a small daughter, Abigail, and right now we have joint custody, where I see her on the weekends and on every other holiday. I know my ex employer. He’s a po
werful man with a powerful reach, and if I went on record today I know that he’d be able to reach me somehow.”

  “What do you mean exactly?”

  “I mean that even if I were protected, technically, by New York State whistleblower laws, he’d find other ways to mess with me. He could easily spread misinformation about me, or bribe someone at child protective services to lodge a phony complaint against me that will prevent me from seeing my daughter. As you said, he’s a vindictive man with a long reach.”

  “I see. So what do you want to do here?”

  I want to see what you know, Tomas. That’s the only reason I was sent here. “I want to stay off the record, officially, until I can figure out a way to protect my family from him should I go on the record. But we can speak, as long as it stays in this office, for now.”

  He thinks about what I just said. I can see the disappointment on his face. I can tell that he wanted me to just give him Chandler on a silver platter, but that’s not why I’m here. He thinks for a few more seconds before finally looking over. “Alright. I understand. I have two little ones myself and I wouldn’t put it past your former employer to go right for the jugular. Tell me what you know, and you have my word that it stays out of any publications until you give me the green light. What do you have on him?”

  “You first, Tomas.”

  I leave the office about twenty minutes later. My head is spinning, but I feel a rush after going undercover like that, even if it was for that bastard. Once I get out onto the street, I stop into a Starbucks on the corner to grab another coffee. I need to think. The conversation I just had was interesting, and I follow up with some online research of my own.

  Turns out that Chandler’s main business is social media—he’s one of the new breed of media conglomerates, meaning most of his businesses are geared towards streaming services and social media. But he’s been accused of some pretty heavy stuff, and before I trust Tomas or any of these articles I find when I Google the phrase ‘Chandler Daniels illegal’—and there are a lot—I want to talk to Graham.