by Este Holland
Officer Bailey snickered at his own joke.
“Bailey,” I said with a sardonic smile. “Hey, where you headed?”
“Eh, few blocks thataway.” He waved to the east. “Got a complaint about some vandalism.”
“Can I catch a ride?”
“Sure. Get rid of that smoke, though. Want the front seat, or are you too used to the back?”
“Stick to your day job, Bailey, you’re a shitty comedian.” I dropped the butt and stomped it out.
He cracked up, and we got in the front of his blue-and-white cruiser. We shot the shit for a while, talking baseball and crime rates, when a certain store caught my eye.
“You can let me out here.” Bailey braked. I got out and flipped off the car behind us who laid on the horn. “Thanks for the ride.” I thumped the roof twice.
“Take it easy, Archie.”
I jogged across the street and entered Dinkin’s Donuts. A puff of hot air hit my face as I opened the door, and the smell of sugar and yeast nearly bowled me over. My turn at the counter—I ordered a coffee and three crullers.
“Hey, Marcy,” I said, reading her nametag. “Where’s Jake?” I dug into my bag and bit into sugar and fat.
“He doesn’t work here anymore,” Marcy said.
I stopped chewing long enough to make her look at me. I gave her my best smile. “What happened?”
***
I scowled and kicked at a piece of trash on the ground. I’d left the donut store after Marcy had told me what happened. I briefly thought about getting revenge on the owner but dismissed it. It’d been my fault Jake got canned, and I’d make it right. Stupid, stupid, stupid! I didn’t think through every consequence.
I stopped at the crosswalk and thought about my next move. Home would be good, then research. Who was Jake, and where could I find him? I pictured him in my mind. A few years younger than me, probably. He’d been wearing a dopey uniform, so no help there. Hair a few shades darker than auburn, and bright-blue eyes behind frameless glasses. He’d been pale, but the Irish kind of pale, not the sickly kind. He had a nice face with a straight nose. I couldn’t remember much else. My gaydar had pinged right away, but I’d been too focused on my job to flirt. Much.
I entered my condo and dropped my keys into the ceramic bowl on the table to the left of the entryway. It opened into a decent-sized living room with a nice view. I wasn’t on the top floor, so it was limited. Not that I was complaining. We’d lived in some stinkholes growing up. Still, I loved my family. We stuck together, no matter what. Although I’d have to cool it for a while, so Phen didn’t murder me at our annual Valentine’s dinner with Ma and Nonna Sophia.
I headed to my bedroom, through the dressing closet, and into the master bathroom. I turned on all the shower heads and undressed while the water warmed the tiles. I stepped in and stood there in bliss for an ungodly amount of time. Long enough that guilt over wasting water started to bother me. I washed up, got out, and dried off, not bothering to dress.
With the towel snug at my waist, I went to my office and fired up my MacBook. I emailed my client, saying the interior design job was done, and I expected the second payment by tomorrow. Then I started my search for Jake of Dinkin’s Donuts.
Chapter 3
Jake
I applied to any place hiring around campus and my apartment. The problem was, a lot of college kids needed work. But Marri was right; I had a good work history, and Mr. Anastos wouldn’t give me a bad recommendation. I checked my job search on my phone, but so far, no replies. I had to pick up my last check and deposit it before the bank closed, but I was stalling.
The computer lab was quiet on Friday afternoons. I sat on a low wall, eating a tuna sandwich on cheap white bread I’d prepared at home and people-watched for a while. I made myself move and walked the familiar route to Dinkin’s. The girl behind the till located my check after I explained to her where Mr. Anastos kept them, and I walked to my bank’s ATM to deposit it.
I turned around and jumped. “Christ! You scared me.” Oil Guy leaned on the wall right beside me.
“That’s dangerous.”
“I’m usually more alert at the ATM. Bad day.”
He licked his lips, the ones I’d dreamt about, then held out his hand. “I’m Archer Ferraro.”
I slid my palm against his and grasped. “Jake Michelson.”
Archer held on to my hand for a few seconds longer than normal. “Listen, Jake, I’m really sorry you lost your job.”
I shook my head. “It was my own fault.”
“No, it was mine.”
“No,” I argued. “I didn’t have to sell you that oil.”
“But you see”—Archer stepped closer, face creased in apology—“it would’ve happened no matter what. So, it is my fault.”
“It would’ve, huh?”
“Yeah.” He shrugged a bit sheepishly. “I never take no for an answer.”
I didn’t have a reply to that, so I checked him out instead. He looked as good as I remembered in tight jeans and that sexy-as-sin leather jacket with all the zippers. I took a closer gander at his face. He had a boyish grin that rounded his cheekbones, causing his eyes to squint. I’d been dead-on about his lips. They were on the thin side but perfectly sculpted. Still, Archer had a toughness around the edges.
My brain screeched to a halt. “Wait. How did you know I lost my job?”
“I went to the donut shop. Marcy told me what happened, and I followed you from there.”
“How did you know I would be there today?”
“I didn’t. Come on,” Archer said before I could think about that. “Let me buy you lunch.”
I wanted to protest, but the soggy tuna sandwich hadn’t done much to fill my stomach. “Um…”
Archer grinned and grabbed my arm. “I told you, I don’t take no for an answer.” He started walking. “Are you from around here?”
I liked walking beside him. He strutted with confidence and kept his hands in his pockets to keep them warm. I had on multiple layers with an NYU hoodie on top, so I was okay. “Brooklyn. You?”
“Staten Island, originally. We moved to Queens later.” We crossed at the light, and he led me down a nicer street.
“What do you do?”
“I’ll tell you. Upstairs.” Archer indicated with his head.
I looked up—something I never did—at a building of condos.
“What’s here?” I asked.
“My place. I’ll cook.”
“Oh.” I don’t know why I hesitated. I’d followed him willingly, but being alone behind a locked door with a stranger—one who I knew for a fact wasn’t afraid of consequences—was a little daunting.
“I promise, I’m not crazy.” Archer touched my arm. “Let me explain yesterday.”
And although it was probably one of the stupidest things I’d ever done, I followed him to the elevator and into his place. “You own this?”
“Yep. Well, you know…mortgage.”
“Right.” Like I knew anything about mortgages.
“Have a seat.”
Archer took off his coat and headed to the kitchen. His place was open concept with a breakfast bar and a small table by the window, cream-colored walls, navy furniture, and wood tables with the occasional pop of color, like the tall vase filled with lemons on the coffee table and hot pink throw pillows on the couch.
“This is really nice.”
Archer threw a smile over his shoulder. “Thanks. I love it. I’ve been here for about two years.” He set a cup of strong coffee in front of me, and I took a sip. My groan must’ve been loud, because he stopped and tilted his head. “Good?”
“Yes, thanks.” I refused to blush. The truth was, Archer made me feel like a kid. Despite our first meeting, he obviously had his life together.
“I have some antipasto and stuff from the deli down the street. Is that okay?”
The note of uncertainty in his voice caught my attention. “That sounds great.”
; A smile bloomed on his face, and he got to work gathering the food from the stainless-steel refrigerator and setting it all on the table between us. He handed me a fork, and we ate right out of the containers.
“This is you cooking?” I asked with a smile.
He returned it. “Pretty much. But I can make simple things.”
“I’m a whiz at donuts, but anything besides soup and sandwiches is beyond me.”
“So, I want to tell you what I do for a living.” Archer chewed slowly with his eyes on me.
“Okay.”
“You have to promise to keep it under your hat.”
I set my container on the table. “Oh, God. You’re a drug dealer, aren’t you?”
Archer blinked his big hazel eyes. “What makes you think that?”
“You’re young, and you have a really expensive place.”
He chuckled. “I’m not a drug dealer. I hate drugs…besides caffeine and occasionally nicotine.”
I glanced at the nice furnishings and decorations, trying to figure it out. “Did you create an app?”
His face shone with an infectious laugh. “God, no. I’m hopeless with programming.”
“Trust fund baby?”
Archer shook his head, his smile slowly disappearing. “No.” He twisted his coffee cup around, staring into it. “Maybe I should give you some background first.” I nodded at him to continue. “My mom raised me and my brother alone. Well, Nonna helped, but Ma worked two jobs—always kept a roof over our heads.” I hid a wince at that, but Archer didn’t notice. “She started dating this guy Mark. It wasn’t ideal, but my brother and I wanted her to be happy, you know. So, anyway, things are moving along, Mom’s in love. Then one day, Mark started smacking her around.” I sucked in a breath, and he gave me a hesitant nod. “Yeah. Me and Phen, we were just teenagers, self-absorbed, worried about school.…We didn’t notice for a long time.”
“Understandable,” I said.
Archer shrugged. “Well, we stood up to him, and he backed off, but I couldn’t get over it. How dare that bastard hurt my mother.” He gritted his teeth as if the pain were still fresh.
I nodded. “I get it.”
“The thing is, Jake, I didn’t just want him to be gone.…I wanted to punish him for it.”
My nerves buzzed in anticipation of Archer’s next words.
“I was talking to some friends about it, and one of them said, ‘Karma will get him,’ and I said, ‘I can’t wait that long. I have to be karma.’ ”
Archer stopped and met my rapt gaze. It took a few seconds, but my brain clicked into what he’d said. “The oil. The car. Dude Bro was a…a…what was he?”
“He was a mark. I was hired by his ex-boyfriend to give him payback. That’s what I do. I’m Karma.” Archer swallowed and waited.
“Wow.”
Archer’s words were hesitant. “You’re the only one I’ve ever told.”
“What?” I asked, my voice rising. “Why me?”
“Because I want to hire you.”
Archer
I waited for Jake’s answer. The idea had come to me when I’d been researching him. I’d found out he was a Computer Science major at NYU, and he was smart. There was an article about him winning some award.
Jake was taking too long to answer. “Can I ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“What were you doing at the donut shop? You’re too smart for that place.”
“I needed something close to school that didn’t interfere with my classes.”
“Fair enough. What do you want to do once you graduate?”
Jake pushed his glasses up his nose. Adorable. “I have a few prospects. It’s too early to decide.”
“What sector?”
“Cybersecurity. White-hat stuff.”
“So, you are a hacker. I thought so.”
“I’m not a hacker. I know how to hack. There’s a difference. Wait, how do you know all this?” Jake leaned forward until the ring of black around his blue eyes was visible.
I raised a brow. “You’re telling me you don’t know how much personal information someone can find out with a Google search?”
“Yeah, but I’m careful, for that very reason. There’s no way you found out that I’m a hacker on Google.”
I scratched my nose. “I may have asked around where you generally have classes.”
Jake shook his head and stared. “And they just told you about me?”
“All I had to do was pretend to be a recruiter for a super-secret, prosperous business, and I found out all kinds of stuff about potential employees.”
Jake lifted his arms and ran his hands through his hair. Nice arms, I noticed. Not overly bulky but they had some definition.
“People tend to trust me. With this face, who wouldn’t?” I grinned. “I mean, sure, I’ve been arrested, like this morning, but I’ve only gone to court a few—wait! Where are you going?”
Jake stood, knocking into the table. “I have to go.”
I stood as well, not sure where he was going. “What? Why?”
“I can’t do this.” He grabbed his messenger bag and slung it over his head. “I can’t work for you. I want a nice, stable job with a good paycheck, benefits, 401k, and health insurance.” I reached out to stop him, but he turned around to face me. “I appreciate the offer. I know you’re just trying to help, but I really can’t.”
Something in his voice stopped me from arguing, and I hurried to open the door. He left without another word.
Hmm… A smile inched across my face. “I’ll see you soon, Jake.”
Chapter 4
Jake
“He’s what?” Marri asked. “Karma?” Her bed occupied most of the floor space, and we had a movie playing on my laptop, not really paying attention to it. Even with all her roommates, her place was several steps up from mine. And we had privacy in her bedroom.
“That’s what he said. People hire him to punish people who’ve wronged them somehow.”
“Huh. That sounds like a fun job to me. Why didn’t you take it?” She lifted a noodle high in the air and lowered it into her waiting craw.
“Are you serious? How about the fact that it’s illegal?”
“Not necessarily,” Marri countered. “It depends on what he does to them.”
“He got arrested for that oil prank.”
“Well, that was one job. Maybe the others aren’t like that.”
“He was interested in my hacking skills. That’s illegal.”
“Maybe you should find out more about it.”
“Come on! You know I can’t do anything to jeopardize my future.”
Marri squeezed her lips together in sympathy. “I know, but it sounds like it could be fun, and you desperately need that.”
I scoffed. “I have fun.”
“Really, when?”
I scraped at the bottom of the lo mein as I thought. “I don’t know. We went out, didn’t we?”
“Four months ago. You wouldn’t dance or talk to anyone; then you got sick from too many margaritas, puked on the bouncer, ran shrieking like a banshee when he gave you the evil eye, and we had to ride the bus home.”
“I don’t remember any of that.”
Marri gave me the stink-eye.
I bumped her shoulder. “You’re the best friend a girl could ask for.”
“Yes, a boy, too,” she said. “And everyone in between. Basically, I’m awesome.” She flicked a strand of purple hair off her shoulder.
“You are.”
“You’re awesome, too, Jakey. You need to loosen up a little, that’s all. Life is short, even if you live to be ninety; it goes by so fast.” She gripped my hand hard. “I wish you wouldn’t let your dad’s mistakes dictate your life.”
I sighed and set the empty takeout container to the side. “I don’t know how not to.” I snuggled under the blanket, and we faced each other in the glow from the screen. “I’m so petrified of not having money or a place to live. It’s ha
rd to let go of that.”
“Well, you can start with baby steps. Just dip a toe in, and see how you like it.” Her eyes lit up with an idea. “You could do a probationary period with this karma guy. Ask him if you can do something that’s not as likely to get you in trouble.”
“Maybe. I don’t know. Putting the legalities aside, what about the morality? I don’t know if I’m okay with punishing people. I mean, who am I to decide that? Who’s Archer, for that matter? Why does he get to decide?”
The skin between Marri’s thick eyebrows puckered. “I suppose it would be hard if something happened you didn’t intend. The guilt wouldn’t be fun.” She shifted around under the blankets. “But if he’s only doing small things, like the oil, for example, what is that really hurting? It is just a car, after all. He didn’t kill the guy. You could take it case by case,” Marri suggested when I shook my head. “If Karmaman wants to do something you’re not comfortable with, you could talk about it or leave.”
“That’s true.”
Her smile made me smile, and we watched the rest of the movie, but my mind wouldn’t rest. Consequences were real, and I knew just how devastating they could be.
***
I loved sleeping over at Marri’s, even though her bitchy roommate Cassie looked at me like dog doo on her shoes. I ignored her as I left with a huge yawn, hopped down the stairs, and turned left on the sidewalk.
“So, do you always sleep with four women at a time?”
A manly squeal left my throat, and I whipped around to find Archer behind me, wearing a cocky grin. “What the fuck? Are you actually stalking me?”
Archer glanced at the hand I’d slapped over my heart and reached out to grab it. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. And yes, to answer your question. I am.”
I stared, unable to think of an appropriate response, other than, “I need coffee. I can’t deal with you without coffee.”
“Great! There’s a café down the block. We can continue our interview.”
“Is that what this is?” I fell into step beside him, not sure why I was going along with this insanity. But Marri’s voice was the Jiminy Cricket on my shoulder, guiding me to do things I wouldn’t normally do. Or maybe she was a devil.