Chapter 28
Were we just fired?” Gabby was shell-shocked. She hadn’t been fired since she worked at Chili’s in the early aughts.
“Not yet,” Markus said, “but expect to be when we get back.”
Gabby blinked back tears. This mission had taken a hard turn.
“I’m going to have that drink with G,” Markus said. Shoulders slumped and looking generally defeated, he took his leave.
Damn it. Damn it. Damn it. They had lost their jobs, and it was her fault. And now she was supposed to sit in the room and wait to be evacuated. It was humiliating. Poor her. Poor Markus.
Gabby had done fucked up good this time.
She sat there for a few minutes before coming to the conclusion that she wasn’t going to give up that easily.
Gabby slipped on her new favorite pair of sweats (thank you, Jasmine), her Crocs (eh, Kyle), grabbed the laptop, and hoofed it to Phil’s room.
Markus had gone back to have another drink with Genesis, so she didn’t even need to explain that she was going to her ex’s room for a work question and not because she was in a dark place having regrets.
Sure, she’d just been fired, but was she low enough to relive Red Lobster? No biscuits were that good.
Gabby was ready to fight the good fight for justice and for her sweet, sweet government bennies.
Lucas still needed braces. She padded through the night, her route barely lit.
The paths were intended for daytime use, not for spies darting about at midnight.
She clutched her engagement taser tightly.
Palm trees swaying in the breeze and ocean waves met her ears.
The main building was empty, the front desk unmanned. When Aspen, etc., went to bed, the main building shut down hard. The cheerful “ding” of the elevator’s arrival sounded like an alarm in the night.
Upstairs, Phil answered the door in much the same shape as Genesis, reeking of whiskey and regret. He was wearing an old T-shirt from his college days, a shirt Gabby herself had worn to bed many a night. It was threadbare and a little stained, kind of like Gabby and Phil.
“Gabs?” he said, as much a question as a greeting.
“Hey, Phil, I was wondering if you could help me out?”
“With what?” He drew his eyebrows together in concern. “Is Markus, er George, or…” Phil gave up on the name. “Something happen to him?”
“He’s fine,” Gabby answered brusquely. “I have a finance question.”
He glanced out the window at the darkness outside. “At this time of night?”
Gabby could see the wheels spinning in his head, so she said, “I can’t sleep unless I figure it out, and I saw your light on.”
When he looked unconvinced, she reiterated. “Just finances, Phil.”
“Oh-kay.” He wandered back to the couch and put his feet up. “Hit me.”
She sat down next to him and pulled up the laptop. How to phrase it… “Jasmine was trying to figure out the finances of Inner-G. She offered me a discount if I could sort through some of it.”
“She asked you for financial help.”
Gabby flashed a self-deprecating smile. “She knows I’m an executive assistant at an investment firm and seems to think I know more than I do. I could really use the discount. These rooms are expensive.”
With a shrug, Phil took the computer. “Sure, I’m not doing anything else.” Clearly, Phil’s eyes on this were illegal, but if Valentina hadn’t fired her, she would have used internal help. Now Phil was her only option.
Gabby got him to the page of resort financials. “Do you see anything suspicious here?”
“Um, apart from insane deposits.” He started laughing at something. “What the fuck are these people up to?”
“I thought maybe that was normal. They’re operating on a different level.”
He nodded and looked a little deeper. He pointed to a line. “Look here, you have a twenty-million-dollar deposit into this account a couple of months ago. A five-million-dollar deposit another month back.”
Those numbers sounded big, but everything here was so outsized.
He spent a little more time scanning documents. “The numbers don’t add up. I don’t see how they’re bringing in enough to pay for this place.”
“So where’s the mystery money coming from?”
“Some holding corp, PowCup Financial.”
“What’s that?” Phil might as well be speaking Klingon when he started talking finance.
Phil slipped into his business voice. “A holding corporation owns a controlling interest in other companies, usually, but without offering goods or services themselves.”
Aka, rich people stuff.
“Who owns PowCup?” Gabby asked.
“How should I know?” He slumped back onto the couch, done with his analysis.
“Ask Jasmine or G.” Phil narrowed his eyes.
“What’s really going on? Is Jasmine leaving G?
She’s trying to secure her assets before divorce, isn’t she?
” Phil threw back the rest of his whiskey and swirled the remaining ice cubes.
“I guess I’m not surprised after tonight. ”
“Probably,” Gabby said, letting Phil supply whatever answers kept him figuring out what was actually going on. “Don’t say anything. It’s on the down-down-low.”
“It always is.”
Not ready to give up, Gabby pulled up Jasmine’s email and scrolled through, looking for financial or legal entries, anything besides back-and-forth with Naomi and Lana. Maybe there’d be a quick-and-dirty answer about where that money came from.
One with the subject line “Red dye number six” caught her eye. The message suggested a number of more expensive but natural red dyes for the Inner Glow blusher, to which Jasmine responded, “Stick with number six.” Gabby was pretty sure that ingredient wasn’t on the packaging.
After another twenty uninteresting emails about resort business, she came across one with the subject line: Power Couple 2. The author of the email, [email protected], wanted to know when he was going to get to see Power Couple 2. Gabby hadn’t realized that one was in the works.
Genesis had responded, “Soon. It’s going great.”
She kept scrolling and showed Phil an address that sounded business-y.
“Linkman and Schmidt,” he said. “I’ve worked with that firm before.”
“Really?”
“Down in the Caymans. Brad and I play golf sometimes.” He made a thinking face and amended, “Well, like three times.”
How many golf games were required for what she needed? “Can you ask him? Would he know?”
“Yeah, but he’s not gonna tell me.”
“Can you give it a shot?”
With a shrug, he said, “Fine, I’ll try.” Phil was trying.
He was trying really hard to time travel back to 2010 when Red Lobster had been financially solvent and things had been “good.” Gabby felt guilty for leading him on for a second, not that she had promised a damn thing, but let it pass when she remembered how often Phil had done the dishes: never.
After some general “Bro” texts regarding golf and some chick named Jenny, Phil got to it:
Phil: Yo Brad. Know anything about PowCup?
Brad: PupCup duuuuuude.
Phil:…
Brad: I’m not here to say anything bro but daaaayyyum.
“It was worth a try,” Gabby said. “Thanks for the help.”
Instead of heading back to the cottage, she padded through the dark to G’s. As she’d hoped, he and Markus were still there, and Jasmine wasn’t back yet.
“Hey, boys,” Gabby said casually. “I’ve come to collect my fiancé. I need him.”
“Lucky man, George. Go get her!” G hooted with drunken enthusiasm.
“You boys finish up,” Gabby said, “I’m gonna run to the bathroom.”
While Markus wrapped up with G, she tucked Jasmine’s computer back where she’d found it. Maybe she was going to be fired upon arrival, but at least she was giving it her best shot.
Markus was a little drunk. “I’m not mad at you, Gabs.”
She took his arm. “I’m not mad at you either. I mean, depending. Have you done anything I don’t know about?”
With a laugh, he said, “Noooo!”
“Markus,” she said, “I know you’re drunk, but in all seriousness, I’m going to finish this mission and get us our jobs back.”
“Gabby—” He let her name hang in the air, not jumping up and down with enthusiasm about her proposal, but also not saying no.
“Are you in?”
“Do I have to be?”
“Actually, yes. Our cover is all about the wedding. You can’t give up before me.”
“You could switch me out for Phil.”
“Markus.” She stopped walking.
Halfway back to the cottage, he relented. “Might as well. What else am I going to do, fly home and meal prep?”
She laughed a little too hard. “Your lunches are so dumb. All those little containers.”
“You know you’re jealous,” he teased.
“Of course I’m jealous.”
At the door to the honeymoon cottage, her stomach flip-flopped with nerves. After their day from hell—attempted murder, her mom and Phil arriving, all the spying, and now getting thrown off the case—she couldn’t handle awkwardness with him too. But it was inevitable.
The porch light cut across his face, leaving him partially illuminated. “Markus, don’t sleep on the couch tonight. I don’t know what we’re doing, but I don’t want to be alone in bed. I hate this awkwardness.” When he didn’t jump in with a response, she said, “We don’t have to do anything. I just…”
“Me too, Gabs. It’s been a lot. Let’s just—”
“I just want to lie down, shut my eyes, and forget our troubles for a few hours.”
He reached out. “I’ve got you. I want that too.”
Five minutes later, she lay with her head on Markus’s chest as he pulled her in close. With his warm, solid body pressed against hers, she was overcome by a sense of peace, especially after their hot mess of a day. Lying to her family, lying to the people at the resort, lying to Markus.
Remembering how she’d started the day following him around, ready to report him to Valentina, filled her with shame. She squeezed him harder, overcome by tenderness. If they made it through today, what couldn’t they do?