Man Down (A Rookie Rebels Novel)

by Kate Meader

  But Allegra was a true believer. She didn’t hawk anything she didn’t use herself and was a firm adherent to the notion of the feminine divine. Girls rule the world, starting with their vaginas, the source of all power, pleasure, and strength.

  After slipping in a cut of a yellow Hawaiian hibiscus to smooth the transition (Allegra liked Hawaiian touches as a nod to Kapo, the goddess of fertility), Sadie saved the video and checked the notifications on her phone. Nothing from LonelyHeart, the nickname she’d given to the guy whose wife’s phone number she’d inherited. Or at least, she assumed it was a guy.

  Two months ago, Sadie had lost her phone and Allegra had given her a fancier one with a new number. This way, any future assistant of mine will have the same number, Sadie. Continuity is key! Money was as tight as, well, Allegra’s punani, and it was just as easy to move her contacts into the new phone. Still, Sadie was well aware of the veiled threat in Allegra’s comments.

  You exist by my favor. You are replaceable.

  Feminine divine, indeed.

  A message from a Chicago number caught her attention. Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. This was it.

  She played it back, her shoulders sagging deeper with each word.

  Guilty. House arrest. Sentencing at a later date.

  John Byron, her father’s lawyer, sounded blasé, but then lawyers weren’t obliged to have a soothing bedside manner with the estranged daughters of their douchebag clients. She pondered her next move, recognizing that she needed to do something that went against the grain. Talk to the man who was her father in name only. Avoiding it would have been her first choice but she had Lauren to think of. Sadie would put aside her discomfort to make sure her half-sister knew she was here for her.

  She dialed with a shaky finger and listened to the rings, hoping fervently it would go to voice mail. It clicked over—yes!—and she waited for her father’s outgoing message, but then got a techno-voice telling her, Message box full.

  Rats.

  She called the lawyer and was put through after a couple of minutes.

  “Ms. Yates.”

  “Hi, Mr. Byron. I got your message and I tried calling my father but his message box is full.”

  “Well, all his former clients are likely reaching out to tell him where to go.”

  “Long walk, short pier,” she muttered.

  “Somewhere hotter,” he replied smoothly, as if marching orders to hell were par for the course. She supposed they were for a man who defended people accused of embezzlement and fraud. “We’re working on the appeal, trying to play up your father’s grief over losing his wife so suddenly and the fact he has a minor child to care for with no likely guardians on deck. He’s paid most of the money back and we’re setting up a plan for restitution on the rest. Sentencing will be in approximately four months to give time for victim impact statements. Meanwhile your father is under house arrest and the assets are frozen.”

  Sadie closed her eyes. Somehow, she’d expected her father would escape conviction, the Houdini of hedge funds. “How’s Lauren holding up?”

  “Still at that boarding school in Wisconsin, though I expect that won’t last long. This semester is paid up but there won’t be funds beyond that.”

  There won’t be a father to care for her, either. Lauren’s mother, Zoe, had died a couple of months ago from ovarian cancer, and Sadie had seen her twelve-year-old sister for the first time in years at the funeral. Silver-eyed, like Sadie. Like their father.

  “If my father gets a custodial sentence, what happens to my sister?”

  “Your stepmother had no surviving family so there’s no one—” He cleared his throat. “We’re hopeful we can avoid that eventuality. Your father wanted you to know about the court decision but he’s still not ready to, uh, reconcile.”

  What in all that was holy did that mean? Sadie was the one who had been replaced in her father’s affections by first, Zoe, then by a half sister she barely had a chance to know. And now he wasn’t ready to reconcile?

  All that old, biting anger came rushing to the surface and she fought mightily to maintain control.

  “Okay, thanks for telling me. If there are any developments, you’ll let me know?”

  He hesitated before responding. “Ms. Yates—Sadie—I don’t know what happened with your father and I don’t want to interfere. But sometimes, a cut and run is the best thing for your mental health.”

  Sadie could feel a grim smile forming on her lips. It sounded like Mr. Byron was well aware of her father’s brand of toxicity. The man had bilked millions from his clients’ life savings. His status as a widower and father of a minor might garner him some sympathy during sentencing, but there was little doubt as to his guilt. Jonah Yates was not the best person.

  She wasn’t here for him. She owed him absolutely nothing. No, she was reaching out for Lauren. With her father out of the picture, perhaps Sadie could cultivate a better, or actual, relationship with her half-sister. Not that she wished a prison sentence on the man. That would be rather petty, wouldn’t it?

  “I’m just trying to do right by my sister, Mr. Byron.”

  “Understood. I’ll be in touch if anything changes.”

  She hung up, her body shaking, her mind racing with the hot feelings that inevitably surfaced in the cool of the long shadow cast by her father.

  Her phone buzzed with a message from … damn, not him, her sad texter. This was from Allegra.

  Make sure the video is uploaded to my channel by 3p.m., Sadie! The punettes expect consistent content at the same time each day!

  Allegra had been pushing that punettes thing for a month now. Not catching on, babe.

  Getting back to the video, she let her mind stray to LonelyHeart and the dark place he must be in. Before he ended that text exchange yesterday morning by apologizing for bothering her—as if—she’d enjoyed his wit.

  AT&T is absolved. Sure they’re thrilled.

  That dry as dust tone had permeated his previous texts, along with a bone-deep pain. The man spent his time updating his dead wife on his daily routine. It was either weirdly healthy or messed up beyond recognition.

  Reaching out the way she did, putting a halt to that conversation with his wife, might not have been one of her best ideas. But those messages had been so private and she needed him to know she was eavesdropping. Then she wanted him to know she was there for him.

  Which was strange because she didn’t know him from Adam.

  If he did want to talk more, he could reach out. But after hearing about her father’s conviction and his desire not to reconcile—which I don’t want at all, Dad!—she itched for something real. To relive the good vibe she’d experienced yesterday.

  Surely, it wouldn’t hurt to say hello. She scrolled through the contacts to LonelyHeart.

  Hey

  Hey, how are you?

  She tried again. Hey, stranger. What’s the weather like today?

  Friendly, no pressure, creating an opening through which he was welcome to walk anytime. That was all.

  She waited. Nothing. No indication it had been read, either. That was okay, she had all the time in the world.

  But not much before she needed to get this video uploaded to Allegra’s Punani Power channel. She pressed play.

  “Time for today's Muff Buster, punettes! Do you believe so-called scientists who say your punani is self-cleaning? After a strenuous workout or some fun times with your man, do you think it’s cleaning without a little help from the goddess? Don’t be fooled. You need to take care of business and I have just the thing …”

  4

  Sadie pulled up in her shabby ten-year-old Honda Civic and parked behind Allegra’s new Tesla outside her home in West Hollywood. The old girl was still kicking—like Sadie herself—but the miles were starting to show. A duct-taped side mirror, rusty undercarriage, and careworn leather told the true story.

  She took a few cleansing breaths and considered her plan of attack for the day. Allegra
would be in her sun room, drinking a kale smoothie (ugh) and checking her view numbers. A quick look revealed one hundred and fifty thousand views in twenty-four hours, with an increase of six thousand new subscribers to a healthy 2.5 million. Sadie kept spreadsheets of the daily numbers so Allegra could plot her trajectory toward influencer stardom. The Instagram numbers were phenomenal as well, growing even faster than YouTube. On there, she was helping Allegra to craft a presence marketed at a millennial base.

  If only Sadie put as much effort into her own creative endeavors.

  Sadie had to give it to Allegra. She had found her passion and trod her path, not like Sadie, who had floated aimlessly for ten years as a waitress, receptionist, barista, and other assorted jobs until landing a gig with Allegra after she’d bumped into her in a restaurant bathroom in Venice Beach. Allegra complimented Sadie’s dress, a design of her making, they got to talking, and Sadie was only too happy to leave her virtual assistant concierge job to work with a woman who was so driven. She thought it would ground her and give her time to get her own design business started, but no such luck. These days Sadie was busier than ever on Allegra’s passion, with little progress to date on her own.

  At twenty-eight years old, she wished she had it figured out.

  She smoothed the skirt of her dress, a cute shift style she’d cut from an old Vogue pattern and paired with a fun, sparkly belt. Placing her hand on the door handle, she grabbed her Kate Spade, gift from her friend Peyton, only to stall at hearing her phone buzz.

  “Hold your horses, woman,” she muttered, expecting to see an all-caps text from Allegra. Instead it was from someone rather unexpected.

  LonelyHeart: It’s cold and miserable, like me. How about you?

  More than twenty-four hours later, he’d texted back! About the weather, but she’d take it.

  Sadie: Sunny with a chance of more sun. Like me!

  She cringed at her ridiculousness. Sadie: Sorry, just being a goof. What’s going on? Forehead slap. He’s mourning his wife, that’s what.

  LonelyHeart: I’ve been thinking about the 9 million numbers and how it is you have this one number. Of all the numbers. This one that means something to me.

  She had no idea what to say to that. Maybe it’s fate? The goddess? Maybelline?

  The dots started up again and she let him finish his thought.

  LonelyHeart: Maybe it means we’re supposed to be talking.

  Sadie: I think so. It has to be a sign.

  LonelyHeart: So you don’t think it’s weird?

  What? Talking to a man who wished he was chatting with the deceased love of his life. Nah!

  Sadie: No, not at all. You don’t have to say anything, but I wanted you to know I’m here if you need to talk.

  LonelyHeart: Not much of a talker.

  Sadie smiled. This man—and she was sure it was a man—was much more of a “talker” than he claimed.

  Sadie: Yet you can’t shut up in those texts :)

  LonelyHeart: Kind of chatty when there’s only four wooden walls.

  Sadie: You have me now.

  She sent it before she had time to think about how it would sound. Presumptuous. Needy. A bridge too far.

  Allegra: SADIE, WHERE ARE YOU??!!!

  Damn. She waited for LonelyHeart to respond, worried she’d scared him off. Her phone rang with Allegra’s high-energy smile on the screen (Allegra had energy degrees for her smiles. This one was an eight.) Sadie let it go to voice mail. It seemed incredibly important that she wait for his response. Just a second, just one more second …

  LonelyHeart: I should let you go. I’ll check in later if that’s okay.

  Sadie’s heart thundered. Definitely. I’m dying to hear about the wooden walls. Are you Amish? But a user of phones? An Amish tech-lover?

  LonelyHeart: No. I live in a cabin. In a forest.

  Sadie: Like the Unabomber? I’m not really into revolutionary anarchy but I can tell a million jokes about it.

  LonelyHeart: Jokes would be welcome during the revolution.

  Sadie: Awesome! I’ll get my arsenal of bad puns ready. (Arsenal? Revolution? Get it?) Prepare to be entertained.

  LonelyHeart: Is that your way of discouraging me from checking in? Because I’m not easily frightened.

  Sadie: Wait until you hear my A material.

  Sadie: It’s your morning funny! Knock, knock.

  LonelyHeart: Really?

  Sadie: Could you play along?

  LonelyHeart: *grumble* Who’s there?

  Sadie: A little old lady.

  LonelyHeart: A little old lady who?

  Sadie: I didn’t know you could yodel!

  LonelyHeart: Classic.

  Sadie: I thought so. Plenty more where that came from!

  LonelyHeart: Please God no.

  Sadie chuckled, immensely pleased with herself. Who didn’t love a good knock-knock joke? For the last few weeks, they’d been chatting every day, usually starting with Sadie’s knock-knock icebreakers. Which sounded like a good name for a sex toy.

  “Sadie, have you sent out the prizes for the “I Heart my Punani” contest yet?”

  She looked up to find Allegra standing in the doorway to her office at Allegra’s house. Allegra’s movie producer father had gifted the 3000 square feet Spanish-style home to her as a college graduation present (apparently no one gave out cars anymore). With its gorgeous portico terrace, white stuccoed walls, and sun-drenched great room, it was an inspiring place to live and work.

  Instead of playing hooky, Sadie was supposed to be packing up prizes for contest winners. She grabbed a bottle of fur oil and waved it in Allegra’s direction.

  “Yes, getting the packages together now.” Allegra received free products all the time and gave most of them away to her viewers. “And I heard from Ciara at Having It All about that cross-promo opportunity.”

  “Remind me again.”

  “You said you wanted to look at opportunities to lift other women up.”

  Allegra held up her hand. “What are her numbers like?”

  “Not as good as yours but she’s up and coming.”

  Vigorous head shake. “What have I said? I can’t work with anyone who’s below me on the totem pole. If I’m to achieve next level I need to be striving for partnerships with people who can bring in more eyeballs.”

  Logic alert. If everyone came at it from that angle, then no one would help anyone. “I thought of it as a pay it forward thing? If you help someone below you then someone else might do the same for you. On the shoulders of giants and all that.”

  Allegra narrowed her eyes, unable to find fault with that. “I’ll take a look at her channel.” She turned to leave then pivoted again. “So, a little birdie told me that you might be going through some personal issues right now.”

  Sadie’s pulse picked up. How in the hell would Allegra have heard about her father’s legal problems? “Not really. I mean, nothing that interferes with my work for you.”

  Her boss stepped one willowy leg forward and canted her head in practiced sympathy. “We all have crosses to bear, Sadie. If you need to talk to someone—”

  “That’s very kind of you, Allegra, but I’d never impose on you like that.”

  She waved dramatically. “Oh, I don’t mean me, Sadie! Boundaries are incredibly important between employer and employee.” Said the woman who had asked her on Day Two of employment to pick Allegra’s best “vag-shots” for a gallery exhibit in West Hollywood. “I mean that you should talk to a friend or even submit to that relationships subreddit. Names changed to protect the guilty, of course.”

  Sadie dug her nails into her palm. “Right.”

  “I need you here giving me 110% because …”

  “100% is never enough,” Sadie finished Allegra’s mantra for her.

  Allegra raised both her fists and gave a half-pump. “Exactly! Now, back to those packages. I’ll be filming in the sunroom, so the video will be ready for edit in fifteen.” She hovered a moment, then offered
a lazy hand gesture toward Sadie’s outfit. “That one of yours?”

  Sadie stood to give her a better view of the peasant-style dress she’d made last week. Red with white flowers, it had a romantic ruffle that hit just above the knee and flattered her curves.

  “It is. What do you think?”

  “Pretty.” She touched a finger to her chin and waited a beat. “You know, I’m in a book club with Galatea Hughes. We’re reading Reese’s latest pick.”

  Sadie swallowed her ignorance. Galatea who? But her know-nothingness must have shown on her face.

  “Galatea Hughes? She’s on one of those MTV reality shows? Anyway, her brother is married to Shannon Shah. The designer.”

  “Oh, wow, really.” Sadie wasn’t a huge fan of Shannon Shah, who made weirdly inappropriate outfits for children, but she’d never turn down an introduction. “Have you met Shannon?”

  “God, no. Those slutty outfits for kids are popular, I suppose. Maybe when I see Galatea, I could mention you.” Allegra only sounded half-begrudging. She might have felt a touch guilty at closing off her sympathetic ear a moment before.

  Sadie smiled. “That would be so nice, Allegra.” Her phone buzzed and she ignored it, knowing who it probably was.

  “No promises!” Allegra wagged a finger. “I’m all for women looking out for each other but no free rides.”

  “Got it! I wouldn’t dream of taking advantage.”

  Allegra looked suitably smug and went on her way. Buoyed by Allegra’s passive-aggressive promise, Sadie picked up her phone.

  LonelyHeart: I didn’t mean you had to literally stop texting.

  Sadie: Oh, I know. My boss stopped in so I had to pretend I was working.

  LonelyHeart: Bosses. Don’t miss that.

  Sadie considered how to ask without prying about his employment prospects. You’re your own boss, then?