Karma's a Bit*h

by Este Holland

  “Yep,” Archer said. “I’m trying to find out what makes you tick. How you spend your days, who you hang out with. I need to know if you’re able to keep secrets and willing to bend the rules.”

  He was acting like I hadn’t left his place yesterday with an emphatic “No.”

  I shook my head and opened the café door. He smiled and slid past me with a wink. I breathed in the scent of leather and coffee, and my libido kicked into overdrive. We ordered and took a seat in the back where the steam from the espresso machine fogged up the windows and my glasses so that it was impossible to see through them. I took them off and cleaned them on my hoodie, while Archer doodled in the condensation.

  “Cute,” I said, nodding at the little bow and arrow.

  “It’s my logo.”

  “You have a logo?”

  “Sure. Every business needs a logo. Officially, I’m listed as a freelance interior designer.”

  Despite my wariness, I leaned over the table to hear more. “How do people find out about you?”

  “Word of mouth, mostly. A friend tells a friend what I did for them, and they’re all like, ‘I should do that to my scumbag ex!’ ” He flopped his hand in the air, then dropped it. “Like that.”

  “I know you said you started with your mom’s boyfriend, but how did you get your first paying client?”

  A smile curled one side of his face as he too leaned over the table. His face was so close, I could count all the different greens, browns, and golds in his irises. “Do all these questions mean you’re interested?”

  I took a minute, drinking my coffee. “Maybe. But I can’t get arrested or go to jail. I can’t jeopardize graduating in any way.”

  Archer nodded, serious. “I understand. I don’t want you to get into trouble, either. I would love it if you helped me with research.”

  “Just research? No hacking?”

  Archer hesitated, making my anxiety spike. “Well, I mean, nothing outrageous. But sometimes it’s hard to find the best way to punish these people. Like, what is their most treasured possession? What would upset them more? Would anyone innocent be hurt by my plans?”

  The last question helped to soothe some of my fears. “So, that Camaro was Dude Bro’s most prized possession?”

  “Brett. Yes. He treated his ex-boyfriend horribly, but thankfully he got away. I stepped in and dated him, so I could grab his spare car key. No one else relied on the car for transportation, so…” He spread his hands out in a ta-da! wave. “And the ex was happy.”

  I relaxed a bit more. “You’re a really good liar, then.”

  Laughter jumped from his throat. “You could say that.”

  “How do you know your clients aren’t lying?”

  “That’s where you’ll be invaluable. I have to do a lot of legwork to make sure it’s a legit client, and not the opposite party. Like maybe Brett wanted to get back at his ex for leaving him because he’s a controlling asshole. That’s a third of the job, at least.”

  I started nodding and made myself stop as an anticipatory gleam lit his eyes. I finished my coffee and rose to put the cup and plate in a dish bin. Archer followed as I walked toward my place. He seemed to realize I was contemplating all he’d said, so he left me alone. I often walked as I thought, letting the sounds of the city wash over me like white noise.

  Am I really considering this? Yes. Yes, I am.

  At least Marri would be happy.

  Archer

  I liked walking beside Jake. I kept an eye on him as he got lost in his thoughts. He was surprisingly good at not crashing into things, even though he was completely clueless.

  He blinked and looked around.

  “You back?”

  “Yeah, sorry.”

  I shook my head. “No need. That was enlightening.”

  “How?”

  I smiled. “Never mind. So, what do you think?”

  “How much do you pay?”

  I’d already thought about it, and I named a price for each job completed, and he staggered. I had to grab him and move us out of the way of pedestrians before they trampled us in a fit of rage.

  “Are you insane?”

  His eyes bugged out so far, I expected them to push his glasses off his nose. Clearly, I’d watched too many cartoons as a child.

  I tilted my head. “Nnoooo?” I laughed. “I’m not. I swear.”

  “How can you afford that? How much do you charge?”

  I shrugged. “It depends on the job and the client. But I do charge a lot.”

  Jake pushed his glasses up. His skin seemed even paler in the gray February light, but it made his lips even pinker. My eyes followed his tongue as it swiped at them, leaving them all shiny.

  “We live pretty close to each other,” I pointed out as I spied Jake’s building. “That’ll make commuting easier.”

  “I haven’t accepted the job yet.”

  I furrowed my brow. “But…I want you to.”

  Jake hid a grin behind a scoff. “You just feel guilty about my job.”

  “True, but I wouldn’t be offering this one if I didn’t think you could do it.” I shrugged. “I’d just make it up to you in another way.”

  “Hmm, there is that.”

  I nudged him with my elbow. “You know you want to.”

  “And it’s legitimate, right? Like, I can report it on my taxes?”

  “Of course. I’m not stupid enough to let the IRS come after me. Archer Designs, LLC.”

  “Okay.” He gulped. “Let’s give it a try.”

  I grinned and grabbed him in a hug. He wasn’t expecting it, so he grunted a little, but he gradually relaxed and patted my back.

  “Oh, man, this is going to be awesome! We’re going to get so much punishing done.”

  “I’m may already be regretting this.”

  “Don’t be silly. Here.” I reached into my inner coat pocket and gave him a card. “Email me your class schedule, and come over to my place Monday morning, or as soon as you’re available.”

  Jake blew out a breath. “Right. Okay.”

  “Relax,” I said with a confident smile. “I’ll take care of you. I promise.”

  He stared at me long and hard, then nodded. “See you Monday.”

  I grinned the entire walk home.

  Chapter 5

  Jake

  I can’t believe I’m going to do this. I paced the sidewalk in front of Archer’s building twenty times—twenty-one…twenty-two—avoiding a crack along the left and a splat of something that looked like yogurt. Someone stepped into my path.

  “Jaaaake,” Archer said. “Come upstairs to have your freak-out. It’s warmer.”

  “Okay.” How was he so good at handling me? I hadn’t slept more than two hours the night before, tossing and turning, thinking about all the ways this could go wrong.

  We rode the elevator to his floor, and he led me inside. I sat on the dark-blue sofa, knee bouncing uncontrollably. Archer brought over a cup of coffee for me, and I took a sip.

  “You like it? I saw you put in brown sugar instead of white yesterday.”

  “It’s great. Thanks.”

  Archer nodded, pleased he’d gotten it right, and sat in the chair diagonal to the sofa. He didn’t speak. I was quickly realizing he had the patience of a saint. I wondered if that patience would run out soon.

  “I got a few requests for job interviews.”

  “Oh?” He’d braced his ankle on one knee, jiggling his foot.

  “I declined them.” During my freak-out last night, I’d waffled between accepting the interviews just in case and declining them. In the end, I’d decided to give Archer a chance.

  “Oh.” Elbow on the arm of the chair, Archer smiled and turned his face into his palm, all cute-like. “That’s good to hear. You ready to get started?”

  “Let’s do it.”

  My new boss led me to an office with the same cream-colored walls and dark-wood floors. I filled out some paperwork for taxes—at least that was familiar.
A new sixteen-inch MacBook Pro sat on the desk.

  “If you want, you can use my Mac for research, so you don’t have any trails leading to your IP,” Archer said.

  “That’s…very considerate of you, thanks.”

  “I told you. I’ll take care of you—”

  “But I can mask my IP if I need to.” I smiled at his confusion. “Hacker, remember?”

  “Right. Anyway, it’s an option.”

  “Will I need to do that often?” I tried to ask casually, but he wasn’t fooled.

  “Better safe than sorry. We got a job last night.” Archer guided me by the wrist. I was glad he couldn’t feel my sweaty palms. I sat behind the desk and opened his Mac. He typed in the password. “Tamsin Hart is a woman who lives in the Village.” Archer opened a Gmail account, and I read while he continued. “According to Tamsin, her ex-husband took off with her great-grandmother’s antique jewelry. She had it insured, but the cops couldn’t find it, and they stopped looking. The insurance paid for it, but she’s still pissed at him. She said she’d been planning to give it to her kids on their wedding days.”

  “So, it’s the sentimental value.”

  “Right.”

  It hit me right in the heart. I’d never had any family heirlooms. “What do you want me to do first?”

  “See if you can find out where Brian is now and what he’s been up to.”

  “Brian Hart of Brooklyn.” I kept reading. “He used to work for a contractor.”

  I masked Archer’s IP address and started typing. I never noticed when he left. By the time I surfaced, I had more information on Brian than I’d bet even his ex-wife’s lawyers could find, and they had quite a bit, according to the information Tamsin had sent Archer.

  Anticipation for what Archer had planned for this jerk began to stir in my blood. The Marri devil-cricket cackled on my shoulder. I stretched and popped my fingers. My phone screen lit with a message and I checked it, then noticed the time. I’d been working for three hours. A bathroom break was in order, first.

  ***

  Leaving the bathroom, I searched Archer’s condo. He wasn’t there, unless he was in the master bath, which was none of my business.

  “Hey.”

  I turned around and my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. Archer stood half-naked, toweling sweat off his neck. Thin track pants clung to a lean waist.

  “Jake?”

  I dragged my eyes away from his ribs where some words were etched low in black ink. “Yeah?” His cocky smile had me crashing back to reality, and heat flooded my cheeks. “I’m done with Brian Hart for now. I left you a Google doc with all the info.”

  Archer’s eyes lit up. “That was fast. Do you agree that Tamsin’s got just cause?”

  “Definitely. I’m surprised she hasn’t pushed him into oncoming traffic.” My eyes glanced everywhere but at Archer, staving off the hard-on that begged for freedom. “Now what?”

  Archer threw the towel over his shoulder and walked closer. “Now I do some reconnaissance, and you take a break.”

  “You mean stalking.”

  Archer grinned. “Okay, yes. I stalk my marks and figure out what they’re up to, who’s around them a lot, and then figure out what my next move is.” He stopped and considered his next words. “This is a very…fluid job. It’s never the same twice, and I roll with the punches.” He rolled his shoulders as if to emphasize his point. “Sometimes literally.”

  “You’ve been punched?” I cried. My stomach twisted into a knot.

  He jerked at my shout. “Yeah?”

  “Geez.” I pressed my fist into my aching stomach. “I’ve never even been in a fight before.”

  “More of a lover than a fighter, eh?”

  “Um…sure.” I resettled my glasses and shuffled my feet. “If you say so.”

  Archer’s smile dimmed, and he cleared his throat. Spinning on his heel, he walked to the kitchen and grabbed a juice from the fridge. “Want dinner?”

  “I can grab something on the way home. I don’t expect you to feed me all the time.”

  Archer chugged his drink and shrugged. His smooth skin glistened in the bright light from the open refrigerator, and I couldn’t help noticing the chill had caused his pink nipples to harden. “A lot of companies provide perks for their employees. Food, coffee, free Wi-Fi.”

  The need to stay screamed in my bones, but I forced my feet to move. “Not tonight. I should go.” Before I jump on you and start sniffing the sweat on your body like a psycho.

  Archer set his drink on the counter and walked over, licking the moisture from his lips. “If you’re sure. You want me to walk you home?”

  “Oh, no. I’m fine.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  He was killing me. “It’s okay.”

  Lips tight, he studied me. “All right. Just be careful. I’ll text you tomorrow to let you know where I’m at, and if I need your help.”

  “Okay.” I grabbed my messenger bag and slung it on. “Be careful with…you know, the stalking.”

  “I will.”

  Come on legs. Move. “Don’t get arrested,” I said at the door.

  “No promises.”

  His smile and the wiggle of his fingers were the last things I saw as the door shut. I stumbled on the doorstop, dropped to my knees, then collapsed. Dead. I’m dead.

  The elevator dinged, and I scrambled up and dashed for the stairs before someone witnessed me acting like a fool. I called Marri to keep me company on the walk home.

  “Hey, bish! Where’re you at?” she asked.

  “I’m walking home from work.”

  “Work?” She paused. “You took the karma job?”

  “Shhh!” I glanced around as if someone overheard us. “It’s a secret, remember? Don’t tell anyone.”

  Marri squealed so loud, she started to cough. “I won’t. I promise. But I’m so glad you did. Do you like it?”

  “So far. I’m just doing some online research.”

  “You know you’re going to tell me what he does to this one in the end, right?”

  That was what I was afraid of. “Um…we’ll see,” I hedged. “He’s very careful about privacy.”

  “I’m the epitome of closemouthed.”

  “Ha!”

  She sniffed and chose to ignore me.

  Archer

  I followed Jake home, listening to his side of a phone conversation. So, he’d told someone about me. I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. I’d have to assess it further before rumors spread. On the one hand, it was good for business. On the other…I didn’t want the cops investigating me.

  Jake grabbed a sandwich at a deli, then disappeared into his building. I hated that he lived in that dilapidated roach trap, but he was an adult and there was only so much I could do for him, though I was starting to think I wanted to do a lot more than I should.

  I took a cab to Brooklyn to find Brian Hart. Jake had provided a current address, where Brian liked to hang out, several of his drinking buddies, and his new employer. He’d already proved himself invaluable. It would’ve taken me a few days to cobble all that together.

  The cab dropped me outside a pub, and I rushed in from the cold. It was dim and loud with sports memorabilia on the walls—nothing truly imaginative—and several TVs playing a basketball game. Walking up to the bar, I hooked my heel on the footrest and ordered a beer. I scanned my surroundings, catching a couple of guys checking me out. I skipped over them. Two guys flirting would draw too much attention in this kind of establishment.

  Brian sat at a table with his friends in dusty work clothes and construction boots. All that was missing were the hard hats. I took my beer to an empty table close enough to hear them and pretended to scroll through my phone.

  Brian wasn’t ugly, just a normal guy with brown hair and brown eyes, with a laborer’s build. His stomach was starting to go paunchy from too many beers, but he wasn’t a slouch.

  They all bitched about the foreman, Jerry, and bitched about the
ir girlfriends. This must be the unmarried group. The married ones were home with their families instead of drinking in a bar. Brian talked about a lady named Stephanie. I made a note on my phone in Jake’s Google doc to check out their relationship. Sounded like she was in Jersey, and he couldn’t get over there to get laid as often as he wanted.

  Real stand-up guy.

  They stayed for several beers—I switched to soda after my first—then staggered out the door. They had a work truck; I was sure they shouldn’t be driving, especially after drinking. I grabbed a cab and took it to Brian’s place. He and another guy got out of the truck and walked into a small building. They were either roommates or neighbors.

  I managed to sneak in behind them before the door closed. The truck had already driven off. I stepped lightly, ducking behind the mailboxes when the friend turned. I crept up the stairs, careful of making noise. Weed and tomato sauce were the odors du jour. The friend went into the first apartment, and Brian went into one farther down. His buddy must’ve helped him find a place to live after his divorce.

  So, Brian didn’t have a car, and his girlfriend, Stephanie, was in Jersey. Not bad for the first night of reconnaissance. Jake’s voice said stalking in my head, and I smirked. I didn’t know how this was going to pan out yet. The boyfriend angle wouldn’t work unless he was in the closet. I wrinkled my nose. I never slept with any of my marks, always putting them off, but even pretending with Brian seemed in bad taste, though it couldn’t be worse than Brett.

  I rubbed my chest. Jake wouldn’t be there when I got home. I wanted to talk to him about what I saw. I wanted to plan with him and hear his opinion. I walked for a bit before hopping on the subway. The train rattled on the tracks, and the lights flickered on and off. An old lady in an ankle-length parka and fur hat sat across from me knitting, and I gave her a smile.

  “Keep to yourself, pervert.” She sniffed. “I’ve got a switchblade.”

  I lifted my brows. “Impressive. All I’ve got is a taser.”

  “Ha!” She fished in her knitting bag and pulled out a nickel-plated gun with a mother-of-pearl handle.