Fake Summer Boss (Fake to Real #9)

Chapter 1

LAYNE

No amount of pie is going to fix this.

Not even when washed down with endless, hot decaf.

Over the past month, I’ve been coming to work at Ray’s Diner a few times a week. If I don’t have any emergencies, and it’s late in the day, it makes no difference if I’m in the office or a few blocks from it. There’s nobody else there.

The Barrow Agency is a security company that runs mainly on emails and texts.

The rest of the staff rarely need to come in.

Heck, the big boss hired me over email. I’ve never seen his face.

One of the bodyguards met me at the door with the key on my first day, warning me that the gym next door got pretty loud a few afternoons per week, from all the yelling in the self-defense classes.

He was right. And so on those days, the diner is my refuge.

Staring out at the parking lot, I drum my fingers restlessly on the table. It’s strange, having a boss I’ve never seen. Especially since he’s kind of…okay, I’ll say it. A dick.

Never a “good morning” or “how are you”. Just facts, demands, and deadlines. That’s it. Do I work for a robot? It stops me from reaching out and asking questions, and feeling free to ask questions would certainly help now.

As I look through the roster of security guards, my heart sinks.

We need someone for a special assignment for the Gillis Group this weekend.

Mack Wentworth, my boss (and possibly a robot) has been trying to get their business for quite some time.

It's a huge corporation, and now they finally want to try a test job.

Unfortunately, this assignment is last-minute, and all our security guards are already booked. Worse, once I have the guy booked, I’ll need to wrangle a date for him. They want a couple so they’ll blend better into a family event.

Oh! Colton! The one guard I haven’t emailed yet. He used to work here several years ago and still does the occasional job.

I glance around the diner. Nobody seems to be listening. So I decide to use voice to text: it's always so much faster than poking the screen.

Hi Colton, this is Layne from Barrow Security. I hope you’re well. There is an important project this weekend and we could really use your help. Are you free?

I double check that voice to text didn’t do anything hilarious like changing “well” to “ill”, then hit send. A response comes back less than thirty seconds later.

Colton: Thanks for thinking of me, but I'm out of the country. Best of luck.

No problem. Thanks. Enjoy your trip.

I slump in the vinyl booth. When I first started here, I read through as many old job files as possible, to get a feel for what they did.

Sometimes it was escorting a rich girl on her party vacation to ensure she didn't get…

well, they used the term harassed. Others it was security for a few days when a company was doing layoffs. Just in case.

I was surprised at the variety of jobs burly men were hired for. But I guess it's better to have extra muscle and not need it.

I saw that once in a while they called in guys from other companies to help. But I don't feel right doing that without Mr. Wentworth's approval.

Claudia comes by and tops up my decaf without even asking. "How's it going with Mr. Secret Agent Man?"

I laugh. We've already chatted at length about my work, and whether my boss is actually a robot, or, as she once put it, "a tall eggplant emoji."

“Trying to figure out a problem, but nothing but point blank missives from Mr. Lack of Personality.”

She rolls her eyes and sashays over to the teens at the back who immediately stop kicking each other under the table when they see her.

Glancing at my screen, I see that two more emails have come in from guards who can't make it. The client wants an answer before the end of the day, which is under an hour.

I have to contact Mack right now. Sighing, I lift my phone to my mouth, speaking slowly and clearly. The microphone is so fussy sometimes.

“Hello, Mr. Wentworth. Sorry to bother you, but it’s urgent. There’s nobody available for the Gillis assignment this weekend, and I know we want to impress them.”

Claudia swings past on her way back toward the kitchen. “Do you need another snack? You seem stressed.”

I shrug my tight shoulders. “I’m always stressed, working for someone who is impossible to please. But sure. Could I please get a slice of Ray’s famous apple pie, along with the secret to making my ice king boss forgive me if I don’t make a miracle happen?”

She laughs. “I’ll ask the kitchen, but I’m pretty sure it only comes with vanilla ice cream. I’ll ask them to send it with extra whipped cream or something.”

I laugh with her, then look back at my phone.

Oh no.

No, no, no.

Claudia used the phrase “send it.” And my phone did what she said. I stare in horror at the text I just sent my boss.

Hello, Mr. Wentworth. Sorry to bother you, but it’s urgent.

There’s nobody available for the Gillis assignment this weekend, and I know we want to impress them.

Snack? Stressed. I’m always stressed, working for someone who is impossible to please.

But sure. Could I please get a slice of Ray’s famous apple pie, along with the secret to making my ice king boss forgive me if I don’t make a miracle happen?

I try to unsend the message, but it’s already been read. I stare in horror at the three floating dots below it, but then thankfully they disappear.

My entire body tenses, fire surging into my cheeks. Maybe Claudia can also put in an order to the kitchen for a giant hole that will swallow me up and send me to an alternate dimension?

I just burned through two months’ worth of savings on the move here. Without this job, I won’t survive.

And when Mr. Fussy reads that, I’m definitely fired.