by Ellie Danes
Chapter Three
I pulled myself together with some tough love and left the conference room. I headed down the hall past the enormous fish tank and the other partners’ offices. Reese had been with the firm as long as I could remember and had earned one of the nicer offices on the floor, right next to Dad’s.
I slinked down the hall, past the large mahogany door prominently displaying the shiny gold “Jack Dunning” nameplate. I had spent plenty of time in that office and it held both good and bad memories. As of this morning, I was thinking of nothing but bad ones. I quickly glanced in and noticed he was nowhere to be found.
Thank goodness. I was already second-guessing this job. I’d had offers from other firms and agencies, but Dad convinced me this was the best move. I should have followed my instincts, especially since I was already dodging him in the office after the first few hours.
I ducked into Reese’s office, remembering with a smile that it was always cluttered with files and photographs. It had the very look of every private detective’s office that you’d see on TV or in the movies. I stepped through the doorway and was greeted by Cynthia, Dad’s assistant.
“Hey, Cynthia, do I have the right office? Did Reese move?”
Cynthia shook her head and smiled. “No. You have the right place. I knew Reese wasn’t going to clean this place up for you, so I did. You two are going to be roommates for a while.”
I smiled. “Lucky me. I get the view, to be right next to Dad and to share an office with Reese.”
“It won’t be that bad. Reese has softened up a bit…and your dad…well…” She didn’t need to finish her sentence. We both knew exactly what Dad was like.
Reese was an old-fashioned, hard-nosed kind of guy, who took his job seriously; he expected the people he worked with to do the same. He was a cross between a tech genius and hard edge detective. I always wondered why he settled for working at the firm, but I guess it had a lot to do with him and Dad being such close friends.
Cynthia grabbed a stack of files and set them on the desk in the corner of the room. “We had this set up for you. Here’s a start on the files, the rest are coming in this week.”
“Thanks, Cynthia. I appreciate it.” She always seemed to make things easier around here, for me and for everyone else.
“…and Jennifer? Relax. You’ll do great. Reese is out for the rest of the day, so you’ll have some time to yourself.”
I can’t remember how long I had known Cynthia. She seemed like a permanent fixture in my life, but as much as I would have welcomed it, we weren’t especially close. I never knew for sure, but I suspected there was a history there, between the great Jack Dunning and his attractive yet efficient assistant. I imagined a definite decision on Cynthia’s part not to become close to me, but still she was kind, courteous and always helpful.
I walked over to my new desk and dropped my binder and files in a pile. I eased into the stiff burgundy leather chair and exhaled.
What a morning! I replayed my rough start but paused when I reached my elevator encounter. I took a deep breath and could almost smell the cologne he left behind.
I tried to think about all the details I hadn’t initially noticed. Those electric blue eyes, his chiseled good looks. That smile. I smiled to myself thinking about it. I looked him up and down in my mind, not leaving out a detail. I felt myself getting lost and my face getting hotter. I hadn’t been this caught up in someone I didn’t know since the first time I met Christopher.
A nauseous feeling immediately came over me. Christopher. He was the reason I could never trust anyone again. He’s the reason I studied psychology, profiling and reading people. I never wanted to be taken advantage of like that again. I wanted to see it coming, before it was too late.
I snapped out of my daydream and found myself staring at my reflection in the window overlooking the river from the twelfth floor. Jennifer, get it together.
I grabbed the first five files from the stack Cynthia had placed on the corner of the desk. The files I had already read through were very vague, only outlining that there had been a data breach. There was no real mention of what type of data, but these files had copies of emails between Vawter Corp’s Information Security and Dylan.
One of the main online properties of Vawter was a dating web site called The Arena. I giggled to myself. Sounds more like a fighting site than a dating site. The email cited complaints from members that their information had been showing up on at least five other dating sites.
Good luck with this one, Reese. I closed the folder and moved on to the next one. Exactly why am I here again? I wondered why they would need my skills on a case like this. I was happy just being able to check email. They had the wrong person if they expected me to research all of this stuff.
I continued flipping through folders, hoping I would find something worthwhile. Worth my time. I hoped this wasn’t Dad taking pity on my new found career. By the time five o’clock came around, my eyes hurt and I was ready to escape to my comfy, quiet apartment.
I packed up a few files, threw them into my binder, grabbed my purse and made my way out of the office. The elevator ride down made me nervous and excited. With each stop from the twelfth floor I took a deep breath and watched as more people filled the small elevator. I quietly hoped he would be joining me on the way down. No such luck.
Chapter Four
The microwave announced my dinner was finally ready. Leftovers, again. I grabbed my pasta and headed to the couch, hoping to catch some mindless reality show. I needed to numb my mind after the rough day at work. I flipped through the channels and settled on a bad reality dating show.
“How do these mindless women always end up with the studs on these shows?” I laughed to myself, as if I really cared. “Can’t these guys see how fake they are?” I was far removed from the dating scene and dating in general, but even I knew there was more to it than what was portrayed on television. Still, I was mesmerized with all the back-stabbing, intrigue and secret hookups. I had to admit, it made great television. I was pretty sure my dating life wouldn’t be nearly as interesting or entertaining.
I sat and watched the couple ooze pleasantries at one another until he finally moved in for a kiss. I caught myself longing to feel that again, but not willing to risk the hurt that always followed. I wished life really were that simple, or maybe that I was that naïve.
I finished the pasta and grabbed my laptop and the set of folders from my binder. Let’s see what Vawter Corp is really up to. I did a quick search on “The Arena” and found the listing, along with a dozen ads of similar dating sites. I clicked the link and was taken to a very plain looking website with a large logo, sign up box and login area—not the typical dating site I would have expected. There were no pictures of singles, no flashing banners, nothing. Just a plain black site.
“I guess I don’t have too many options.” I entered some fake information into the sign up area, hoping it would get me past the initial screen, and clicked the sign up button. A longer profile form appeared. Other than the basics, it wanted to know my income, profession, hobbies and preferences. I made my selections and continued through the sign up process, finally being greeted by my new fake profile. A bold alert was plastered across the top of the screen:
Profile Pending Initial Payment and Identity Verification
“Well, Jenny Chase, I guess you’ll be getting an email looking for payment for some dating site now.” I smiled to myself. At least now I could look around the site, although it seemed what I could actually do, or see, was somewhat limited.
Pages and pages of men and women filled the screen. Some profile pictures were blank, but others seemed to have real pictures. The men all looked like players and the women looked desperate, longing for some attention. Like me.
I scrolled through the profiles and attempted to click on a few for more details. This is just research, Jennifer. I had a way of convincing myself of things, or talking myself out of things when appropriate. I c
ouldn’t believe I was wasting my time with this.
A chat box popped up in the lower left corner of the screen. It was “Tiffany” from customer service.
Tiffany: Welcome to The Arena, Jenny. I hope you’re finding everything you’re looking for. ;)
I hesitated before typing anything. The last thing I wanted to do was get into a chat conversation with some customer service agent trying to convince me to sign up for this site. The cursor blinked in the send box.
Jenny Chase: Yes. Thank you just checking things out. Looking for Mr. Right. ;)
Tiffany: Perfect! Feel free to look around, but until you’ve verified your identity and paid the $995 signup fee you will not be able to really get a feel for what we have to offer.
Jenny Chase: $995!!!
Tiffany: We are an elite dating website that caters to those that can afford the nicer things and are serious about finding love, or Mr. or Ms. Right.
Quite the racket Vawter Corp had there. A thousand dollars per person to sign up and find love or some player. I tapped on the keyboard, pondering how to reply.
Tiffany: I would be happy to take your sign up fee today, via credit card, so you can get started right away.
I closed the chat window and exited the site. I went back to the search results and clicked on the first ad in the list. Who would actually do this to find a guy? Love Finders popped up, along with a half dozen other windows advertising everything under the sun. I entered my fake dating name and signed up.
Immediately the website was filled with color profile photos, some definitely x-rated. I scrolled down through the site trying to block out the anatomy lesson being forced upon my eyes. Some of these profiles seem out of place. I looked more closely at Profile 1189092. This was the exact picture and information as on The Arena.
Now why would someone drop a thousand dollars on an elite dating site and then sign up for a sketchy service like this one?
I looked around and noticed a few more profiles that looked familiar and made some notes. I couldn’t take it anymore and closed the laptop. My eyes burned from the strain of looking through papers as well as the unsightly pictures on these sites. I leaned back, pulled the blanket up close to my neck, and closed my eyes.
My elevator fantasy man filled my head again and I relaxed, blocking out all of the images from the last hour. That’s exactly where I stayed until I heard the alarm blaring from the bedroom the next morning.
Chapter Five
My second day at Dunning, Durst and Chandler had me running between the conference room and my shared office with Reese. He arrived early at the office and had a list of things for me to work on while he was busy combing the files sent over by Vawter Corporate Information Security.
“Reese, exactly why am I here? None of this stuff has anything to do with interviewing, or using my expertise.” He could tell I was annoyed.
“Look, Jennifer. You need to be familiar with what’s going on. You need to understand the facts and how things work. Consider this a crash course in Vawter. Otherwise, you have no way of telling whether someone is hiding the truth during these interviews.” Reese shifted in his chair, he had a way of being very direct. “Just follow my instructions and you’ll get your turn to show us what you know.”
I realized he was right. I was so caught up in proving myself that I really didn’t understand exactly how all of this was put together. One thing I did know: Dylan was hiding something.
I grabbed the stack of papers from Reese and headed back to my desk without saying anything. I buried myself in work until the end of the day, hell bent on uncovering something worthwhile. That was the way I typically worked; I dove in head first and committed myself to getting the job done.
My phone chirped at 5:15pm. It was my best friend, Aimee, saving me from myself.
Going to Tarrant’s for a Martini. Don’t make me sip by myself. That was her way of saying, “Tell me all about your day,” so I texted back. K. Be there in a few. ;)
I made the drive to Tarrant’s feeling pretty good but very tired. It had been a long time since I worked a nine to five job and my back and neck were feeling it. I was glad to remove myself from the office and clear my mind. I easily found my friend perched in one of the back booths that overlooked the room, a nice spot to people watch.
Aimee had short blonde hair and a heart-shaped face. She was not only pretty but one of the most good-natured people I had ever known. She was loyal and trustworthy, two things I placed a high value on.
I dragged myself into the booth.
“That good, huh?”
I laughed. “Did you expect it to be any different? I didn’t. At least I made it through the second day.”
I lobbed my purse on the seat and waved the waitress over.
“One Cosmo and one Martini, please.” I hadn’t realized just how much I needed a drink after these last two days until now.
I went on to tell her about the blowup between Dad and I, and the scene he caused during my first meeting. “I will never understand you two. You have everything you need, including each other, and you can’t sit through a meal or a meeting together.”
“Wow, Aimee, that stung.” The truth hurt. Dad and I had a crazy relationship. He was always hard on me. Always intimidated me and made me nervous. But he was the first to step up and offer help when I needed it.
Aimee changed her tone. “Okay, okay. I guess what I am trying to say is that you and dear old Dad are two peas in a pod. You are as stubborn as he is and that’s all I’m saying.” She raised her hands up as if in surrender.
“Topic change, please.” I took a big gulp from my drink.
“Okay, let me tell you about my sex life,” she giggled.
“Oh my god! Do you have one? I’m so jealous,” I laughed, but meant it. She’d been dating her latest guy—Tom, I think it was—for about three months, and the two had pledged to “take it slow.” Apparently, the brakes were off and she shared the juicy details with me.
“Well, good for you. I’m so happy that you’re happy. You deserve it, Aimee.”
“Meaning you don’t? Jennifer, you are beautiful, smart and funny—even if it is a dry sense of humor. Some guys like that. You really need to get back into dating.”
Aimee seemed genuinely concerned and although normally I would feel aggravated, I kind of agreed with her.
“Okay, let’s play the game.” I took the last swallow, finishing the rest of my drink, and ordered another. “Pick one. Any one.” My hand tapped the table.
“Jennifer, not this again,” Aimee rolled her eyes at me.
“Yep, just pick one. You know I can read any guy in this bar.” Giggling again, she looked around.
“Okay, let me find Mr. Perfect, let’s say—hey, what about him? Blonde hair, tall, standing at the end of the bar?” She leaned forward and whispered, “He looks like he could be an underwear model.”
I tapped my chin quizzically. “Alright, give me a minute.” I watched the potential “model” as he chatted with a redhead beside him. Between drinks, he stared at himself in the mirror that lined the back of the bar. He couldn’t take his eyes off himself. I laughed . “Narcissist. Next.”
“Oh, okay. Let me see. What about him?” Aimee pointed towards the door.
“The waiter?” I asked with amusement. “He’s cute, but way too young.”
“No, the guy behind him. There, that guy. Brown hair, sitting at the bar with the blonde.”
“Okay, hold on. I’m watching.” I observed Mr. Wonderful carefully, and then turned my attention to her.
“Well, first off, she’s way more into him than he’s into her. Look at her flipping her hair, and she’s sitting facing him. She’s opened herself up to him.”
Aimee looked impressed. “Go on.”
He was listening, he wasn’t eating sloppy food and he was smiling. In just a few seconds, the blonde excused herself with her purse, likely to visit the restroom. Mr. Wonderful pulled out his cell phone and after a quic
k scroll began tapping on his phone.
“See there? He waited for her to leave.”
“He’s probably checking the score or something.” He threw a few backward looks over his shoulder to the ladies’ room door and slid his phone in his pocket as his the girl returned.
“Yeah, probably not. My guess is he’s into someone or something else.” I explained how somewhere between sixty and ninety percent of communication is unspoken words—body language or how we say something.
Aimee’s face grew serious. “Gee, remind me not to introduce you to Tom. I probably don’t want to know what you’d notice.” She giggled. “Still, that’s just a couple of guys in a bar, Jennifer. That’s not all of ‘man’ kind.” Aimee never failed to be the optimist.
I laughed. “You have to admit this is a sorry bunch of guys!”
“Okay, maybe there aren’t too many good men out there. At least not at Tarrant’s on a Thursday night.” Aimee giggled along with me.
On cue, a warm deep voice interrupted our conversation. “I’m glad I’m sitting over here and not out there.”
I looked at Aimee quizzically. “Excuse me?”
“I said I’m glad I’m sitting over here and not out there. You said there weren’t too many good men ‘out there’, I’m glad I’m up here.” I could tell the voice was coming from the man beside us, but the swanky lattice between the booths obscured my view.
I slid to the end of the booth to peer around the corner, half embarrassed we had been overheard and half curious who the voice belonged to. As I reached the end of the seat, my purse fell to the floor, landing at the feet of our observer.
Great, Jennifer, only a drink in and you’re already feeling it.
My dark-haired neighbor and I reached for the bag at the same time, both grabbing the strap. Oh. My. God. I’d only had a moment to peek at him the previous day, but I would never forget his expensive leather shoes and decadent cologne, or any of the other physically attractive things about him. I tried to play it off.