by Mimi Strong
“What?”
He nods his head closer to mine, so our foreheads are touching.
“Q doesn’t exist,” he says.
“Are you saying you made the whole thing up? Dylan, what are you saying? I don’t understand.”
He pulls away, looking over at the clock radio.
“We need to get going,” he says. “I’ll give you a ride to work.”
My thoughts are a jumble.
I grab my purse, as well as my bag, with the Morris photos inside.
Dylan leaves my bedroom and says goodbye to Riley on his way out. I can’t hear what they’re saying, but they talk for a bit.
I’m in such a daze, I don’t know what way is up.
The expensive key necklace is still sitting out on my bed. Wearing the necklace would show my loyalty to Morris, I think.
Is that what Carter Morris wants?
I grab the chain, but my hands are too shaky to work the clasp, so I slip it into my pocket.
Chapter 3
Dylan gives me a ride to work.
I ask him a few more questions, but he refuses to talk about Q.
“Let’s talk about trains,” he says, changing the topic. “I wish I could take the train to New York, but I’d miss my appearances.”
My mind switches over from Q to the idea of Dylan being on TV.
“I’ll miss you, but I guess I’ll watch you on TV.”
“You’d better watch me. I’ll know if you aren’t.”
“Are you installing spycams in my house?”
“It was just a joke, Jess.” He chuckles and looks over at me, taking his eyes off the traffic to give me a funny look. “You could get a webcam, though. Leave it on so I can make sure you’re sleeping alone while I’m gone.”
“Hah! Very funny.”
He pulls up in front of Morris Music. I look over at the glass doors to the building. A panicky feeling rises in my chest. I don’t want to go in there.
“Ugh. Mondays,” I say.
He leans over and kisses me on the cheek. “I’ll see you this weekend. Promise to stay exactly this beautiful for me.” He sniffs my hair. “And smell this good.”
“Don’t forget about me,” I say jokingly. “Don’t find another groupie.”
He leans over even more. He buries his nose in my hair and inhales deeply.
“You are going to miss me,” I tease.
“Hey, what do you say we go find an underground parking spot, somewhere secluded?” His voice is husky and sexy.
My fingers are on the door handle, but my body wants to stay with him. We could push the seat all the way back again.
His hand slides up my leg slowly.
“Whaddaya say?” he growls.
I pull the handle and pop the door open. If he’s not going to invite me to New York with him, I’m not going to let him make me late for work.
“See you this weekend,” I say cheerfully as I step out.
He gives me a sad look.
I blow him a kiss, then turn and walk up to the building.
As I pull open the glass door, I hear tires squealing as Dylan drives away. Shaking my head, I walk in and start the process of getting through security.
The security guards are the usual crew, with their serious mustaches and serious sense of authority. They seem to be on edge today, like they’re being watched. I glance around, trying to figure out what’s different. The lobby is tidier than usual. I don’t see any coffee takeout cups or half-eaten bagels.
I hold out my keycard for visual inspection, then run it through the machine and walk through the metal detector. The detector beeps, detecting something. Two other security guards come over to join the one glaring at me.
“Was it my necklace?” I pull the fancy key pendant from my pocket. I hand it over to the nearest guy and walk through the detector again. No beep.
I take my necklace back and work the clasp to quickly put it on.
“You guys are jumpy today,” I say to the three of them.
They exchange a knowing look, and then disperse.
I walk over to the elevator. The tallest guard, whose name I believe is Eugene, comes over to stand beside me. Without moving his lips, he quietly says, “Keep your eyes open today.”
I keep staring straight ahead, and whisper, “What’s going on? Is there a security threat? Maybe I’ll just go home. My stomach hurts.”
“We don’t know what’s happening,” he says. “Except… you didn’t hear it from me, but I understand some financial accounts have been frozen. Word is there are going to be some layoffs today. Just on the Morris floors, not the other tenants.”
I turn and look up at him. “Everyone’s getting laid off?”
He pulls a rag from his pocket and pretends to be cleaning fingerprints off the metal frame of the elevator door.
Out of the corner of his mouth, he says, “I just signed a mortgage. My wife and I are having a baby. Let me know if you hear anything.”
“Congratulations. And I’m sure you’ll be fine.”
The elevator doors open.
The security guard shakes the rag out, snapping it. “We’ll see.”
I step in and press the button for the basement.
Whatever’s happening must be related to the text message from Mr. Morris. He might be trying to sleep with my sister, but the whole thing is so odd. Is he just bored, and playing games with his employees for fun? He shouldn’t even care about a low-level employee like me.
At least someone cares.
I’m spooked by what the guard said. I’d probably turn and run right back out again, if not for the message from Mr. Morris. He said for me to keep working.
The doors open, and I step into the land of dusty boxes.
“Good morning,” Nick says.
“Is it, Nick? Is it a good morning? What the hell is going on around here?”
Nick looks up from his desk and blinks at me, his pale blue eyes revealing nothing. By now, I’m so used to the piercings in his face that I barely see them.
“The security guys are all skittish,” I say. “One of them said the company’s accounts are being frozen.”
“Yes. I planted that misinformation.”
“It’s not true?”
“The thing about misinformation is there’s a little bit of truth and a little bit of lie, and that’s the secret.”
I drop my bag on the table, dig out the stack of photos, and plunk them in front of Nick.
“Speaking of truth and lies, why were you hiding these pictures?”
He snatches up the stack and starts flipping through the decade-old photos. “You stole these,” he grumbles.
“They were in a box you didn’t want me to see.”
“Jessica, what have you done?” A hint of emotion creeps into his voice. He sounds upset.
“Nothing. I looked at the pictures. Why were you hiding them from me?”
“I should have burned all these photos. I told the photographer I didn’t want to be in these. I look revolting. You shouldn’t have taken these. Did you scan copies? I thought we were friends.”
I lean across the two desks and grab the photos from his hands.
“What are you talking about, Nick? Are you trying to tell me you were hiding these from me just because you’re a bit pudgy in these old pictures?”
“A bit pudgy? I’m disgusting.”
“Stop lying to me!” I yell.
His eyes widen, and his jaw clenches shut.
“Tell me the whole truth for once!” My voice sounds crazy as it echoes around the basement archives. “Nick. You hid these pictures because David Ambler is in them, and you didn’t want me to know that he’s Q. He’s the guy who’s been helping Dylan this whole time. Stop lying to me! This job doesn’t pay enough for me to take all the lies, on top of everything!”
Nick is very still, like a statue. He doesn’t even look like he’s breathing.
After a moment, he very slowly tilts his head, until he’s look
ing up at the ceiling. He rubs his chin, then nods.
“That makes sense,” he says. “She said it was for the restaurant, but I should have known.”
I bite my lower lip, waiting for him to say more.
Dylan told me there was no Q.
But I think he just said it because he was worried about me getting in trouble. He didn’t convince me. I may not have proof, but I can feel it in my bones that Q is real.
Nick keeps nodding. He’s still looking up at the ceiling, like he can see through all the floors, right up to his mother’s office.
“She fired him,” he says. “That was a nice touch. Carter Morris has always been suspicious of David Ambler, but that was a stroke of brilliance.”
“Maggie Clark and David Ambler are friends?”
Nick lets out a startled laugh. I don’t think I’ve heard him laugh before. It’s an eerie sound.
“They despise each other,” he says. “Which is why it’s so brilliant.” He blinks and gazes evenly into my eyes. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”
I get a chill through my spine.
“Nick, what am I?”
“You’re my friend. When the dust settles, you’ll still have a job, and it won’t be down here.”
“Fine, but what’s going to happen to Dylan, and his deal?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry you won’t tell me? Or sorry it’s bad?”
“The deal will be cancelled as soon as the takeover happens. The company can’t afford all the deals it’s been making lately. It’s the hubris of Carter Morris that’s bringing down the house of cards. His pride has destroyed this company.”
“How long does Dylan have?”
“Jess, he’s not some poor farm kid fresh off the plane. He’ll land on his feet. He can keep trying. He’s got a few years left before his looks start to go, assuming he can stay away from all the things rock stars love.”
“But he wants this. He wants to go on tour.”
Nick blinks and stares at me like I’m an idiot. “Unheard of,” he says sarcastically. “Someone comes to LA with dreams of seeing their name in lights? Say it ain’t so.”
“You’re an asshole.”
“At least I’ll be a rich asshole soon.”
“What if the takeover doesn’t happen? What if Mr. Morris figures out what’s happening and gets… I don’t know… some other financing?”
Nick’s lip piercing wiggles as he flicks it thoughtfully with his tongue.
“You wouldn’t breathe a word,” he says.
I start to say something about it being too late, and that Mr. Morris already knows, but I stop myself. Whether he actually knows or not, information is the only thing I have.
I already gave away the identity of Q, trying to flush out the truth from Nick. I’m not quite ready to give up everything.
“Of course I wouldn’t,” I say carefully. “Carter Morris gives me the creeps. He’s pure evil.” I shudder to sell Nick on my half-lie. Like good misinformation, there’s some truth to it.
“The devil has white hair and green eyes.”
“And you’re right about Dylan,” I say. “He’s rich. He doesn’t need this deal. He can get another one. The music makes him happy, and that’s all that matters.”
“I’ll see what I can do.” Nick’s voice softens. “We might change some of the dollar amounts, but Morris Music can do a lot for Dylan Wolf, and vice versa. It’s not over until it’s over.”
“Thanks, Nick.”
I want to believe him. When he talks to me like this, I genuinely believe we are friends.
But I have to watch my own back.
Chapter 4
Tuesday morning, I notice more changes at the Morris building.
Only two security guards are on duty. There are usually three or four around, drinking coffee and eating bagels.
The two that are here look very serious.
“Where’s Eugene?” I ask one of them.
“Cutbacks,” he says.
I wait for him to elaborate, but his lips are pressed tightly together.
Last night, as soon as Riley and I were both at home, I took her phone and tried to send a message to Mr. Morris.
I asked him for a few more details on what I’m supposed to be doing. The message didn’t go through, and I couldn’t phone the number.
This dead end shouldn’t stop me.
I give the tight-lipped security guard my sweetest smile.
“Is Mr. Morris in the building today?” I ask.
He doesn’t even look at me. “I wouldn’t be very good at security if I went around saying who was where and when.”
I walk away, shaking my head.
* * *
Wednesday.
No big news yet, just small things.
Nick and I eat lunch together in the cafeteria.
I listen to the conversations around me.
There’s a lot of chatter about checks bouncing and budgets being slashed. Nobody knows anything for sure, but fear is in the air. I’ve never been part of anything like this.
People clump in groups and whisper. There’s very little of the usual lunchtime laughter.
People from all departments keep approaching the two of us and asking if Nick has any information.
After fending off a few nosy questions, Nick says to me, “This is exactly why I try to keep a low profile about who I’m related to.”
“But you’ve worked here forever, Nick. Wouldn’t everyone know your mother’s the vice president?”
“You’d be surprised. People see what they want to see.”
I look around at all the eyes on us. “People definitely know who you are now.”
He looks like he wants to crawl under the cafeteria table.
Another person approaches and sits at the end of our table. After a minute, the guy says to Nick, “Hey, man. Some of us are going for drinks after work.”
Nick stares at him blankly. “Does your mother tell you all the high-level details from her workplace? No, I don’t think so. Try to spend less time on gossip and more time doing your job, so you’re indispensable. Just in case.”
The guy gets up, takes his tray, and moves to another table.
“That guy invited you for drinks,” I say. “Maybe that’s all he wanted.”
Nick just nods. “People see what they want to see.”
I pick at my lunch, my appetite gone.
People keep giving me dirty looks, like they know I’ve got the inside scoop.
I try to look like I don’t know anything, which isn’t hard.
* * *
Thursday.
I’m on my way in through security when a crying girl with a cardboard box comes out of the elevator.
It’s the mean girl from the third floor reception. She was rude to me on my first day. Good riddance. She’s been rude every chance since then, whenever I see her in the cafeteria or elevator.
“Layoffs have started?” I ask the security guard.
“I can’t really say.”
The bawling receptionist is followed by a grim-looking guy in a cheap suit. He’s carrying a potted plant and a framed photo of his family.
After they leave, I look up at the security guard.
“Yeah, it’s a real secret,” I say.
He pretends not to hear me.
I walk over to the elevator and check my phone one last time before I head down to the basement. I squeal out loud when I see there’s a new message from Dylan:
Angel with Blue Shoes,
I wish you were here in this swanky hotel room with me. We could tear this place apart. I would make you sweat, and beg for mercy. Can you tell I miss you?
D.
He’s attached a photo. I laugh out lout when I see the “swanky” room. His New York hotel room is not exactly a penthouse.
I write him back:
That bed is smaller than mine! Don’t leave your suitcase open on the carpet, whatever you do. I miss you, too.
I’d love to mess up that tiny room with you.
I get back a selfie of Dylan frowning.
I’m hearing rumors that Morris Music is running low on money. That would explain the cheap hotel room. Jess, do you know anything? I’m going on talk shows and talking about this amazing career I’m planning to have. They’re not big shows, but the footage will be around forever. This is my big chance. Please, if you know anything, tell me. I don’t want to look like an asshole.
I stare at my phone for a long time. People come and go by the elevator in front of me. A few more employees are leaving with their personal effects in boxes and bags.
After a few minutes, I write Dylan back:
You just focus on your beautiful music and singing. Everyone’s going to love you as much as I do. Don’t worry about things in LA, because you know I have them under control. LOL. You know what a big VIP I am here at Morris! I have an entire floor practically to myself. Just stepping into the elevator now. TTUL.
I send the text message, even though it makes me feel like shit to lie to Dylan.
* * *
Friday.
Nick is very secretive these days.
He takes phone calls and whispers things into the phone, but won’t tell me anything. He’s probably worried I’ll let something slip to Dylan.
I won’t even hint to Dylan that anything might be wrong. I can’t be the one who destroys his dream.
Dylan sounds so happy. In his messages, he talks like his whole life has been a misdirect up until now. He’s finally on the path that was meant for him.
He sounds so deliriously happy, in fact, that I wonder if he still has room in his new life for me.
Riley says that what I’m feeling is normal.
She’s gone out a few times with the DJ, Bryce. She thinks she’s an expert on dating rock stars now. I try to accept her big-sisterly advice and not roll my eyes too hard.
Mostly I just try to get through the week.