27. Natalie #3
Natalie stole another stealthy glance over her shoulder.
Something seemed off. In fact, the whole vibe of the meeting felt weird.
She’d met with countless uber-wealthy clients over the course of her career and not a single one had ever tried to engage her in deeply personal conversations.
Or martinis. Or chocolate cake. She tapped her pen on the table as she read back over her notes.
-Thom and Amy
-Met nine months ago
-Live in separate states
-Gardenias!
-Amy: coffee ice cream
-Thom: sweet tooth
Like her teen TV sleuth hero, Veronica Mars, Natalie snapped the pieces of this unexpected puzzle together with expert precision, shocked at the picture they created.
You’re a clever rabbit.
Thom’s a bit of a sly fox.
“Holy shit,” Natalie whispered to herself.
Her heart pounded a rhythm that would impress Phil Collins himself. She stabbed the slice of cake with her fork, wheels in her head spinning at breakneck speed as a forgotten conversation with Kate replayed itself with surprising clarity.
There was this woman. Miranda something. Loaded. She knows Cookie. Buys a lot of his up-and-comers. Well, this woman was there with this handsome man …
Oh. Em. Gee.
“Forgive me father, for I am about to sin,” Natalie said to herself as she did the unthinkable, rotating Miranda’s phone with the tip of her finger. With one last check over her shoulder, she swiped the screen.
Noah: Is everything ok? Are the traps set?
Noah: Text me as soon as you've fully snared Rabbit and I'll report back to Fox.
Noah: I’ll let Kate know too.
Noah: Who knew Cloak and Dagger could be this much fun?
Natalie gently pushed Miranda’s phone back into position. Her thought bottled-necked, now the equivalent of rush-hour traffic the Friday before a holiday weekend.
Does this mean what I think it means?
Kate and Dash ended things?
Well, clearly, they did … and now she’s working with Noah to help him surprise you?
Oh my God, he’s doing all this just for me.
She hadn’t spoken with Kate much since the showcase, which, now that she thought about it, seemed extremely out of character. Then again, Natalie had been guilty of avoiding contact, too.
Kate should be hounding me about Dash, dying for my seal of approval.
I guess Dash was telling the truth, about them not being serious.
And Kate was pretty casual when you pressed her about their relationship too.
"Alright Team Benning, I'll see your Cloak and Dagger and raise you Skullduggery." She brought her fork to her lips.
With a grin, she made a final note in her planner: Find a co-conspirator.
“Ms. Powell, I sincerely apologize for monopolizing your entire evening.”
“No apology necessary. I’ve loved getting to know you, Mrs. Everett. This was a lot of fun.”
“Please, hon, call me Miranda,” she insisted.
Her limo rounded the corner and pulled to a stop at the curb. In seconds, the chauffeur shot out of the driver’s side and jogged around to open her door. Natalie offered her hand, but Miranda pulled her in for a quick hug instead.
“Thank you so much for dinner. Company policy states that Soiree is supposed to pick up the tab for potential clients, but our firm appreciates your kindness and your business,” Natalie said.
“Well, maybe one day when you take a crack at opening your own firm, you can buy me dinner.”
“I’d love nothing more. As soon as I find an investor, I’m making it happen.”
“Atta girl.”
Miranda smiled and slid into the limo. Just before the driver closed the door, Natalie called out one last time.
“I’ll have the contract and moodboards for you as soon as possible,” she said with a wave.
“I’ll be refreshing my email ad nauseum. Goodnight, sweetheart.” The woman blew a kiss.
Natalie watched the limo pull away. Standing alone in front of the restaurant, her mind locked on one thought. Her thumbs danced on the surface of her cell phone and in seconds she pulled up the White Pages site. She typed the man’s name into the search bar, and like magic, the internet delivered.
Yes! There’s a landline! Perfect!
She leaned into her instincts, running solely on a double shot of espresso after that rich chocolate cake, and the confirmation of discovery via Noah’s texts.
Either he’s in or he’s out, but you won’t know until you ask.
Natalie placed the call, now pacing on the sidewalk. It rang four times before a man answered, his tone gruff and bothered.
Shit. This was a bad idea. Just hang up.
"Hello?” the man repeated.
"Yes, uh, hi. My name is Natalie Powell. You don't know me, sir, but I was wondering if you'd be interested in assisting me with a bit of harmless trickeration?"
The man went silent for a beat, then burst into evil-sounding laughter.
I’ll take that as a yes, she thought with a giggle.
They covered a lot of ground during their five-minute call.
He never once balked at her plan, one she literally created on the fly.
Just as they were hanging up, another idea hit, one that would turn the tables on Mr. Crown in the most glorious and boss babe way, because why should Dash have all the fun in this little romantic game of deception?
Natalie pulled out her planner and flipped to her contacts page. She found the phone number of a second possible co-conspirator and sent him a text.
Natalie: Hi, Blaine. It’s Natalie Powell.