Chapter 4
Thursday afternoon, Greene household
G abby looked at the clock. It was one thirty, and she had to be at school in an hour to pick up Kyle and Lucas. Between cataloging all of her faults in a self-help workbook and getting a job offer from the CIA, she hadn’t managed to go grocery shopping, clean the house, or pull up her old résumé.
If she told anyone what had happened, they wouldn’t believe her. No one. Hell, she barely believed herself. But when she looked at the kitchen table, there were three coffee cups. Agent Strong’s “World’s Greatest Mom” cup was empty. Gabby imagined that she ran on coffee.
Get it together, Gabby. If she was even going to consider this, she had to chill—have coffee with CIA agents and then seamlessly pick up the kids, breezing past all of the other moms in the parent pickup line like she was just that cool.
Gabby threw on a fresh pair of yoga pants and hoodie. She was fully invested in her athleisure, emphasis on the leisure, look. She had an unused gym membership and brand-new running shoes to go with the lifestyle. There were so many benefits: 1) she liked the way the pants lied to her (sorry, Sloane); 2) it was a uniform; and 3) she could run away from bad guys, which now seemed like a possibility. Athleisure was a solid trend.
With her uniform on, her frizzy brown hair under a hat, and her phone fully charged, she was ready to get the kids. On her way out of the house, she remembered the package the mailman had brought. Another fucking court order from Phil, which made almost no sense. They’d finalized the divorce four months ago, or at least she’d thought. With a deep breath, she picked the damn thing up. She’d open it up while Kyle was riding a horse. Whatever it was, it was definitely going to take a minute to process, and she was late.
“Be a good boy, Mr. Bubbles.” She patted him on the head. If he didn’t freak the horses out, she’d bring him.
Forty-five minutes later, she was outside a horse barn, the smell of manure and hay oddly comforting, real and uncomplicated, unlike her life. Kyle and Sienna hopped out and ran for their lesson while she and Lucas parked under a tree nearby. Lucas immediately started begging for her phone. “Can I play a video game, Mom?” A horse whinnied in the background.
“Sure.” Gabby handed her phone over. She needed him to keep busy for a minute while she dealt with the paperwork. With a deep breath, she peeled open the envelope with all of its ominous “you have been served” language on the outside.
Inside there was a half-inch stack of indecipherable legal documents, stamped and official. Gabby wasn’t an idiot, but figuring out what any of this legal garbage meant required a JD or a $200-an-hour lawyer, which she could not afford at the moment. Phil could.
First the CIA, now court documents—Mercury was in retrograde for sure. She didn’t know what that meant, but it was nice to be able to blame the universe for something.
She scanned the headings, some of which had become vaguely familiar over the whole process. There was a “request for order” and a “notice of hearing.” In other words, Phil was trying to make her do something. Last time he’d been by, he’d taken the guinea pig, Dr. Piggie, to make his place homier for the kids. It was pathetic, living in a hotel down the street with a hijacked guinea pig.
Next to her, Lucas squealed, “I won. Can I play another round?”
“Sure, honey.” She gave him a hug because she needed the moral support. He pushed her arm away.
What was it going to be about this time? She’d have to drive through LA traffic and sit in a courthouse with a ton of sad, lonely people. So many of the women there had problems way worse than hers, like abusive partners, kids they didn’t have access to, no money. Every time she got there, she counted herself lucky. Kyle and Lucas were healthy, and she had them. She couldn’t afford her house, but she knew she could figure it out. Her main problem: an ex who couldn’t leave well enough alone.
One of the documents brought it all into focus. Phil had filed something called a seek work order. He wanted the court to force her to get a job because he was sick of paying spousal support. What a fucking asshole. Didn’t he realize that her résumé was dead? She’d been raising the kids for fourteen years, during which time he didn’t want her to work because he preferred her to take care of the kids and the house and said, “You can’t make enough money to make a difference. You’ll just push us into a higher tax bracket.”
That had always hit her like a sickly sweet cocktail. It was nice being taken care of, the sweet part of the cocktail. But the implication that she had no value curdled the sweetness into something that made her stomach twist. Phil had never thought of her as someone who had something to contribute to society in general or to their family. He had never seen her, if there was anything to see.
He’d stood in her way all of those years, and now he was making Judge Padilla tell her to go get a job because he didn’t want to pay child and spousal support. As if she were eating bonbons and living the good life all day. As if divorce had been a winning Powerball ticket.
Little did Phil know.
“We’re done!” Kyle and Sienna wandered over, all smiles for once and smelling like horses and exertion. If she had her feet under her, you’d be damn sure she’d be out in the work force not taking any spousal support from Phil. What was she supposed to do, though?
The instructor followed them. “Both girls are doing great. Kyle is about ready to try jumping.”
“Oh.” Gabby plastered on a smile, but she couldn’t help herself. “Are you sure? That sounds dangerous.”
“Mom! I’ve been working all year. I’m ready.”
Gabby didn’t respond immediately. She was trying to give Kyle a chance to calm down before she said, “NO WAY IN HELL,” but Kyle was off and running.
“I’m not you, Mom! I take risks.”
Through gritted teeth Gabby said, “We’ll talk about this later.” Kyle didn’t understand. Gabby didn’t take risks because she was a mom. Make a nest for the kids and make sure none of the babies fall out—that was literally her mission. She jammed the documents into her purse, stalked back to the minivan, and threw the purse in the passenger seat.
“Mrs. Greene!” She’d thrown the purse a little too forcefully and hit Sienna.
“Sorry, Sienna.” She smiled while Sienna composed herself. “I didn’t mean to throw that at you.” The person she wanted to throw it at was Phil, who wasn’t here.
Lucas yelled, “Can we get a pizza?”
Gabby had never heard a better idea. She was in no state to make dinner. Between the CIA and divorce woes, she didn’t even want to put together a bagged salad. It was a screw-top wine kind of night.
At home, Gabby sat in a chair with Mr. Bubbles and a glass of wine. Her credit card info was saved with the pizza place, so she clicked on a gluten-free pizza with nut-free vegan cheese for the kids, and because she was sick of putting herself last, she tacked on an order for an Athenian pizza with extra Greek olives and real cheese for herself. She’d have a second glass of wine too. “It’s family movie night,” she called out, aka Mom ain’t got nothing left.
I’m not you, Mom! I take risks —the accusation gnawed at her peace. Someone in this family had to make sure that Kyle didn’t get bucked off a horse and Lucas had his EpiPen. It sure as hell hadn’t been Phil. She wasn’t boring, was she?
“Kyle, Sienna’s mom doesn’t pick up you kids in the red convertible, does she?” She couldn’t have Kyle riding around in someone’s midlife crisis while she was at work.
“I hope so!” Kyle yelled.
Lucas ran across the room with a fork, and a vision of an ER visit materialized. “Lucas, carry your fork with the tines down! You could literally poke your eye out like that.”
“OMG, MOM! Calm down!” Kyle flashed a look of shock.
Had she become too uptight and conservative? Someone had to watch out for forks to the eye, right? But the truth of Kyle’s accusation seeped in along with the alcohol. The last few years had done something to her—she was scared. In college, she’d delivered pizzas on a moped, and she hadn’t always worn her helmet. She bought furniture on Craigslist and ate suspiciously undercooked food without thinking twice. Kyle and Lucas probably weren’t as likely to die while walking across the living room with a fork as she sometimes believed.
Kyle sat down on the ottoman next to her, and the late afternoon sunlight caught the purple streaks in her hair, some fading to pink. “I have to interview someone about a job for my Achieve class tomorrow.” Achieve was one of those classes where kids learned to set goals and “achieve!” It was the same rhetoric Sloane Ellis used but aimed at middle schoolers.
“You can talk to me, sweetie. I could talk about being a mom. I have some pretty good stories about being a travel agent too.” This might be a great moment for bonding.
Kyle gave her a smug teenage look. “Mom, I mean a real job.”
“It would actually be very progressive of you to identify housework as work despite the fact that society places little to no value on it.”
Kyle sighed. “Um, no thanks.”
“I’m actually thinking of taking a new job. It would start really soon. Tomorrow.” Agent Strong was waiting for her call at that very moment. “If I take it, I won’t be home after school like I’ve always been.”
Kyle shrugged like it wasn’t the most important decision of Gabby’s life, like she didn’t care whether Gabby was there or not. Still focused on her assignment, Kyle said, “Um, I’m going to call Dad and ask about his job. Can you order some of those cheesy garlic breads with the dipping sauce?”
Kyle walked out of the room without a second glance. Gabby called, “I would appreciate a please and thank you!”
“Thanks for getting the cheese bread, Mom.” Kyle trilled a hollow thank-you that made Gabby question all of her parenting decisions.
Her kids didn’t respect her. She was boring. Her ex was dragging her through the mud after fourteen years of marriage. She was done. She didn’t need to take that kind of disrespect anymore. Two goddamn CIA agents had come to the house and asked her, Gabby Greene, to be a field operative. She picked up her phone and dialed.
Agent Strong picked up on the first ring. “Ms. Greene?”
“Hello, yes, Agent Strong?”
“Speaking.”
“I… I think I’m in.”