But despite my intense impulse to check on them, I was not relishing the attention. My mood sank lower and lower the more I paced around the apartment, as I considered the possibilities for my work situation on Monday. They were all sure to know everything by then.
What would my bosses think about my participation in such a scheme? No, I hadn’t been one of the criminals. But I had been around them. Cavorting with them. Spying on them. Perhaps that would make me suspect in their eyes.
No. Hudson said we would be heroes. Those reporters want the story of our selfless actions that helped bring down a conspiracy. Surely my superiors would forgive a one-time dalliance in the covert arts?
One-time? Hmmm.
I tried to distract myself from the activity outside with some online shopping. With graduation only weeks away, and my new grown-up job lined up with my current employer, I was all set to begin improving my living situation. I would soon be able to afford a non-postage-stamp-sized apartment for the first time. And so some actual, adult-like decorating would finally be attainable.
I was just beginning to get lost in the eternal question of shades versus drapes when a quick rap on my door broke my reverie. I froze. The reporters had been pushy and aggressive when I arrived home, but none so far had ventured all the way to my door. They had kept their respectful distance. Do I open it?
A sing-song voice came from behind the door. “Oh, Quiiiiinnn.”
That was no reporter. Grant.
I hesitated only a moment, considering my options.
“I know you’re heeeere,” he called out.
There goes option one. I sucked it up and opened the door, my eyes wide. “How do you know where I live?”
Grant breezed past me into the room, waving his hand. “I asked the boss when all the reporters showed up. Told her I needed to check on my buddy, of course.”
I raised an eyebrow. Buddy? We’d had one quasi-friendly lunch so far. That he still owed me for.
He ignored my skeptical expression. “It was crazy out there. We didn’t know what was going on.”
I took a deep breath, steeling myself. “So does everyone know now?”
He shrugged. “There were some rumors. But I wanted to hear straight from you.” His gaze intensified. “So you have some secret double-life thing? And you didn’t tell me?”
“Well, it wouldn’t be a secret if I had, now would it?” I tried to play it off, but knew I couldn’t keep it up. He stared back, impassive.
I sighed and flopped to the sofa. “Actually, it was just a one-time thing. Sort of. I got caught up in helping with this investigation. And it turned out to be more than I bargained for.”
“I’d say.” Grant made himself at home, stretching out on the loveseat. “You single-handedly brought down the mob, or something like that?”
“Something like that. I guess. And it certainly wasn’t single-handed. If anything, I was just along for the ride.”
“Now, don’t be all modest on me.” Grant used a finger to peek out the window and glanced back at me over his shoulder, coy. “Clearly those reporters outside don’t believe that. For real, what went down?”
I shrugged. “One minute I was helping a private investigator check out possible scandals between business-partner brothers. And the next I was listening to the confession of a murder-for-hire scheme from a prominent businesswoman. Apparently it just took off from there.”
“Investigating scandals. Sounds so . . . scandalous.” His eyes glowed with excitement. “So you weren’t recruited to do some big setup? I heard they were working on a case against those guys for years and years, or something.”
I shook my head. “Just stumbled onto it. I had no idea our simple case would be connected. Or have such huge implications. Although now in hindsight, I guess I should’ve seen it coming. These are powerful people, after all.”
“Hmmm,” Grant mused. “But what about this private investigator you were helping? Her name’s Sloan?”
“What about her?”
“Was she in on all this? Did she trick you into helping set them up?”
I narrowed my eyes, unsure where this line of questioning was coming from. “There was no setup. I told you, it was an inquiry that got out of control.”
He held his hands up in surrender. “Okay. Just asking. So you ‘accidentally’ got mixed up with the wrong people.”
I sensed skepticism. Was everyone going to be so suspicious of us? Of me? “We honestly had no way of knowing it would lead where it did.”
“Which is where, exactly?”
“I’m not . . . completely sure. I just know the confession we taped lead to other confessions. And then more and more. Resulting in this huge case against the whole lot of ‘em.”
He narrowed his eyes. “You lucky dog then, you.”
“One way to look at it, I guess.” I shook my head. “But I’m not sure all this attention is my cup of tea. I just want my old, quiet life back.”
“So your secret-investigating days are over, then?”
Ummm. I didn’t like that question. I wasn’t ready to face up to an answer. I shrugged, trying for nonchalant. “Think so. And Sloan certainly didn’t trick me, by the way. I had a blast playing spy for a while. It just doesn’t fit in with the rest of my life.” I rolled my eyes. “Especially now that I see what can come of it.”
Grant nodded sagely. “Good thinking. Better to focus on your real career. I doubt you can afford not to, really.”
I sighed, letting that one go. He really had been doing better.
Suddenly Grant winced and put his fingers to his head. “Ack. All this drama is giving me such a headache. Do you have anything I could take, dear?”
I’m pretty sure you live for the drama. “Of course.” I hopped up and pulled a small bottle from the kitchen cupboard. “This work?”
He sneered in response. “Got anything stronger?”
“Um.” I dug around the limited selection of over-the-counter drugs. “Nothing prescription, if that’s what you mean.”
“You’re sure that’s all you have?” He held his head with both hands as if in serious pain. “Nothing in the bathroom?”
“Ummm. I can check.” I turned and scurried into the bedroom. “Be just a minute,” I called over my shoulder.
The journey was primarily for goodwill. I knew there was nothing any more powerful in my apartment. But I rummaged through the cabinets anyway, making plenty of noise. And then made sure to put everything carefully back in its place, labels facing out, before heading back. No reason to leave chaos.
“Sorry, I don’t—” I stopped short as I rounded the corner, unsure what I was seeing.
Grant startled at the sound of my voice, sending his phone flying out of his hands. I was certain he had been holding them outstretched, snapping a picture. Of my family photos hanging on the wall.
What I didn’t know was why.
We both looked at the phone lying face-up on the floor between us, camera app still open. Then at each other.
“Whatcha doin’?” I tried to sound unconcerned.
He did the same, exaggeratedly pressing his hand to his chest. “ Give me a heart attack, why don’t you.” He snatched the phone off the floor and shoved it in his pocket.
“Didn’t mean to scare you.” I watched Grant, trying to feel out the situation. He avoided my eyes. I conjured up a little chuckle. “Pretty sure it’s not my decorating you would want to take a picture of.”
He eyed the wall of frames momentarily before taking in the rest of the room with a dramatic eye of disdain. “You might say that.” He echoed my fake laugh. “No, I was trying to take a selfie. This apartment is just so basic. That always makes me look extra good, you know?”
I blinked back at him.
He’s been doing better. He’s been doing better.
“But I can never get that little reverse-camera button to work,” he continued. “Think it’s this headache, I just can’t think right. I take it you’re fresh out of the good stuff?”
“Something like that.”
“Figures. Well, I better get home, then.” He practically bounded the few feet to the door and flung the door open, then turned back to me. “But listen, your celebrity-status excuse is really wearing thin around the office. You’ll be back to work on Monday?”
I studied his face one last time, but found no clues in his mask of shallow impertinence. “That’s the plan.”
“See ya thennn,” he called over his shoulder as he yanked the door closed. I stared at his vacated spot in the doorway. Then at the wall in question. What exactly am I missing here?
FIVE
My return to work was fairly uneventful. My non-intern coworkers, fully-fledged audiologists who generally only socialized amongst themselves, continued their pattern of indifference toward me. Only now with their eyes askance. And a deeper sense of hush whenever I was around.
Being shuffled past reporters and into the building by armed escorts probably didn’t help my popularity in the office. But the one person I was looking forward to seeing was nowhere to be found. I was ready to ask questions. And Grant must have been cowering at home, afraid or embarrassed to answer those questions after his strange episode.
I kept my head down and focused on my patient schedule, which was now extra-full from doing double the work to cover for him. But having just taken two sick days, highly discouraged as a student, I really couldn’t complain. And it would only be a couple more weeks before I would no longer be the underling in the office.
On day two of his disappearance, however, a brief conversation with my boss left me a little concerned about that prospect. Dr. Seymore seemed to be a little wary of my predicament, with all the media attention and talk of spying and criminals. She didn’t say much. But she definitely had the same suspicious look in her eyes as the rest.
And the conversation also left me concerned about Grant. Something wasn’t right.
Sloan answered on the first ring as I left the parking lot at the end of the day. I got right to it. “I know you did your secret research on my coworker Grant. Can you get me his address?”
“Only if you tell me what it’s for. Did you confront that weasel about his little photo incident?”
“He never showed to work. Apparently didn’t even call out sick or anything. They haven’t heard from him, for two days now. He’s going to get fired.”
“Eh,” Sloan replied. “Wouldn’t be the worst thing.”
I couldn’t totally disagree. But I still felt compelled. “I just want to check on him. Can you give me the address?”
“Pick me up and you got it.”
***
“I’m pretty shocked you’ve never been to Grant’s place before.” Sloan took a break from her navigation duties to play comedian again. “He’s like your best friend, right?”
“Right.” I smirked back at her. “Certainly didn’t picture myself trying to hunt him down in my free time, I know that. But something feels strange. Especially after I talked to my boss.”
“So she hasn’t heard from him?”
I shook my head. “I had to cover for him. Said he texted me that he was home sick.”
Sloan gaped at me. “Why in the world would you do that?”
Good question. “Maybe because we had just had lunch, and he seemed to be trying to be friendly? He’s really been much more pleasant lately.”
“Until he showed up at your place acting all sketchy.”
“True. Although I could be over-reading that whole thing. But what’s really weirding me out now is that Grant told me he got my address from the director at work. So he could come check on me.”
“And . . . they shouldn’t have done that?”
I shook my head. “Today I asked her for Grant’s address, for the same reason.” I pulled to a stop at a red light and turned to face Sloan. “And she said it was against office policy to give out personal information.”
Her eyebrows flicked up. “Interesting.”
“When I mentioned her giving my address to Grant, stupidly arguing with her, she got pretty angry. Didn’t appreciate the accusation that she had broken the rules. I apologized and got out of there quickly.”
“So now you don’t know how Grant got the information.”
I sighed and leaned back in my seat. “And I’m not really on my boss’s good side at the moment, either. I’m really batting a thousand right now.”
***
“Not bad for a richie-rich pretending to be a poor student,” Sloan said as we approached the door to a cute, well-tended bungalow-style house in light blue. “So what do you think, he’s hiding out in shame after being found out once again?”
I shrugged and knocked on the door. “I just want to make sure he’s okay. Then we can lay into him.”
We waited for signs of life. There was no movement.
“Could be just avoiding you,” Sloan said, easing off the porch. “I wouldn’t blame him. Let’s go poke around.”
I followed her around the side of the house, where she crept up to an eye-level window. We both pushed our faces to the glass. Just a normal living room, modern and neat with a beachy feel. A rack of towering surfboards stood next to the front door.
Sloan turned to me, quizzical. “He surfs? I’m not sure that fits, in my head.”
I shrugged. “Probably just for show. Wouldn’t surprise me now.”
We moved on to the next set of windows, but they were too high.
“Lemme give you a boost.” Sloan leaned over and laced her hands together, waiting.
I glanced to make sure no one was watching us. “Why me?”
“He’s your frenemy.” She shrugged. “You want to leave him potentially bleeding out on the floor, it’s your call.”
She knows just how to get me. “Okay, fine.” I stepped a foot into her outstretched hands and immediately flew up to the window. She must’ve been a cheerleader in a previous life.
I gripped the window ledge for dear life. Balance regained, I pressed closer to the window, my hands blocking the light. I couldn’t make out much through the half-closed blinds.
“So, anybody dead?” Sloan sounded almost cheery about it.
A male voice responded before I could. “Bloody hope not.”
I spun at the sound, forgetting I was several feet in the air. The movement knocked me quickly out of balance. My left foot stepped out of Sloan’s grasp and into a nearby bush. The rest of my body followed. I found myself splayed on top of the greenery, branches poking me painfully all over. Luckily it hadn’t been recently trimmed.
I groaned in agony and Sloan leaped over to help, dragging me off the plant. I quickly brushed myself off before looking up to the wide-eyed stranger.
“Didn’t mean to scare you there.” There was a distinctive Australian accent to match his Aussie good looks. His longish dirty blond hair was perfectly messy, framing his tanned blue-eyed face. We stared back for a moment, unsure how to proceed.
He returned the gaze. “Ya know, if you want to look in on me, all you have to do is ask. I don’t bite.”
Sloan and I exchanged a glance, confused but amused.
He looked us over carefully. “But I could always make an exception. If you’re into that sort of thing.”
We both laughed, despite ourselves.
“Sorry, playboy,” Sloan said. “But we’re not here for you. Is Grant around?”
His face fell. “What do you want with that good-for-nothing liar?”
I loved the way his accent pronounced ‘lie-uh’. “Sounds like we’re definitely in the right place,” I said. “So he lives here?”
“My flatmate. Or was. Not really sure an
ymore, tell you the truth.”
Uh oh. “What makes you say that? He move out?”
“Nah, his stuff’s all here, but I haven’t seen him in days.” He raised a bare muscular arm and wiped at his forehead. “Think we could take this inside? I’m kinda wiped.”
We nodded and followed him back to the front door. The air conditioning inside was cool against the unusually warm spring day outside. He moved quickly to the adjoining kitchen. “Can I get you ladies anything?”
“We’re good.”
I took in the room while he retrieved a bottle of water. Everything was neat and tidy, not exactly what I would expect from a pair of mid-twenties men. He took a quick gulp and moved back toward us, extending his hand. “Jackson, by the way.”
I returned the offer. “Quinn. I work with Grant. This is my friend Sloan.”
“And to what does my disappearing arse of a roommate owe the pleasure?”
“That’s why we’re here,” I said. “He hasn’t shown up to work, either.”
“We just wanted to make sure he wasn’t lying here dead or something,” Sloan added with a shrug, clearly not genuinely concerned.
“And thus the peeking in my bedroom window, I guess.” Jackson grinned. “That excuse is not nearly as interesting as I’d hoped it’d be.”
I chuckled. “Sorry to disappoint. So he didn’t tell you where he was going?”
“Wasn’t here for him to tell. I’ve been down south with my mates for the last week or so. Getting an early start on the season.”
I glanced at the rack near the door and took a shot. “Surfing season?”
“That’s it. No year-rounding it here, so I have to hit the road. Thought you guys might be groupies, wanting to peek in on me.”
Is he famous or something? I tried to hide my skepticism. “That typical for you?”
“They’ve never followed me home before, that I know of.” He flashed a goofy half-smile that was sure to charm surfing fans. “But out on the beach, I am kind of a big deal.”
Sloan and I just glanced at each other. I could imagine the truth to his words.
No Feign No Gain Page 3