Rei
Two weeks ago
Unknown number: I do.
Unknown number: I kind of thought that too.
Unknown number: I’m not a stalker.
Rei: That’s exactly what a stalker would say.
More text bubbles came and went. Then finally…
Unknown number: I want to meet you in person. Where? When?
Rei: You know where to find me.
Rei: ...Which I’m now realizing is something I would say to a stalker.
Rei: Gosh. This is *not* looking good for you. Maybe you are a stalker.
Unknown number: Okay?
Rei: Okay?
Rei: OKAY?!
Rei: You can’t just send a text like that. I need more words.
Unknown number: So... you don’t want me to find you?
Rei: I don’t like the thought of you always watching and me not knowing who you are.
Rei: It’s better if we meet. But I don’t want to know when we’ll meet because then I’ll probably panic about it happening, so it’s best if you surprise me. But a GOOD surprise. Not a scary surprise. Don’t jump out of the bushes or anything.
Unknown number: I’ll find you. But not in a surprising way.
Rei: Okay.
Unknown number: So it’s okay when you say okay?
Rei: YES. Now stop texting me and do something about it.
Rei: Not saying that anything will happen if you do. I mean, I don’t even know you.
Rei: But I’m open to knowing you.
Unknown: That’s a good sign. Have a good evening, Rei.
Rei: You too, not-stalker.
Five minutes later, I sent another text as more possibilities came to mind.
Rei: But just don’t do it after five PM.
Rei: Or before ten AM.
Rei: I’m a middle-of-the-day kind of gal.
I watched my phone for a moment as I rode to another meeting with my acting CEO, but he didn’t reply. That probably just meant he was good at listening. Or that he didn’t like multiple texts.
My friend Jada told me that some people weren’t a fan of stream-of-consciousness texting, but I didn’t see the difference if the words came in one text bubble or three.
Besides, sticky-note guy had no room to judge my communication skills.
No one texted me “okay” but my aging father in response to an emotional text message.
A new fear hit me. What if my secret admirer was an old man? I mean, all secret admirers couldn’t be super handsome yet inexplicably shy rich guys, could they? Probably not, considering average population statistics.
I sighed heavily.
George said, “A lot of sighing going on back there, Ms. Rei.”
I shook my head at him, meeting his gaze in the rearview mirror. “Men are confusing, you know?” Then my eyes widened as a new possibility struck me. What if my secret admirer was a woman?
A million questions echoed through my mind as George stopped beside the Radiant Cleaning office so I could meet with Conrad. A temp sat at the receptionist’s desk, looking harried and surrounded by piles of paperwork. Where had that even come from? I wondered as the temp asked, “Can I help you?”
“I have a meeting with Conrad...” I said, trying to figure out what all the papers were. It looked like how-to manuals for using digital calendars and Microsoft Word. Oh brother.
He gave me a confused look behind thick glasses. “Who’s Conrad?”
“Conrad Hale?” I said incredulously. How could he not know the man in charge?
No look of recognition registered in his magnified eyes.
“The CEO!” I nearly cried.
“Oh, right...” He turned his head toward the hallway. “CONRAD! Meeting.”
My ears rang from his outburst. “Seriously?”
Conrad came into the small lobby area looking exceptionally annoyed. “Don’t come back tomorrow,” he told the temp.
The poor guy nodded, but stayed put at his desk.
“Go!” Conrad and I said at the same time.
Once the kid was out the door, I muttered, “Sheesh.”
“You’re telling me,” Conrad said. “At least Renee didn’t shout down the hallway at me like a dog.” He gave a wistful look at the desk, then waved his hand over his shoulder for me to follow him back to his office.
As soon as the door was shut, he spun on me. “What did you find?” There was a half-desperate, half-eager look on his face. I would have backed up at his manic energy if the door wasn’t right behind me.
“I didn’t find anything,” I told him, hoping it would get him to chill.
“In fact, I would say Quentin’s one of the more trustworthy people in the office.
” I’d overheard a tense, whispered conversation between Jude and Bryce’s assistant, Maya, one day while cleaning.
It looked like Maya had been reprimanding Jude.
Bryce seemed nice, and I liked how he treated Jada so far. My only hesitation was that I thought their relationship was moving awfully fast. Not so long ago, he was trying to get her to date him, and now they were engaged to be married in a week and had a baby on the way.
Aaric, the COO, was so nice he’d probably get roped into something bad without even knowing. And Cruz, their head of marketing, was never around enough for me to gather much intel.
Quentin on the other hand... he had this air of confidence about him, but not in a cocky or condescending way. The employees who worked under him seemed to truly respect him, not just comply for the sake of a job.
Conrad seemed unconvinced. “You heard nothing?”
“Nothing,” I confirmed. “I asked around the café, I listened in as I was cleaning the office, and no one has mentioned Prodian or anything untoward related to Quentin. Can we be done with this now?”
Conrad seemed to sag, walked to his desk, fell into his chair, and slammed his hand down on the desk.
I jumped, stumbling backward. “What the hell?”
His expression smoothed over. “Sorry, I just hate fraud.”
My eyebrows drew together. “I hate fraud too, but I’m not banging around the office. I really didn’t like that.” My heart was still beating fast, and my muscles felt primed to run, for like the third time in my life outside of gym class and one dream I had where I was an Olympic marathoner.
Conrad had the good sense to look embarrassed. “Sorry,” he mumbled again. “My gut’s just telling me something’s off about this guy. He set a meeting to hand-deliver our check next month. That’s weird for a CFO, isn’t it? Shouldn’t he have his assistant deliver it?”
Even though I hadn’t said anything, Conrad read my expression.
“You agree with me!” he said. “Your face has subtitles, you know.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “Of course it does. I’m not a poker player or a spy.”
“But you do work undercover,” he countered. “You lie to people every day about who you are.”
I folded my arms over my chest at the dull ache presenting there. “It’s easier for everyone that way. Can we just let this ‘investigation’ go? I like working at MyHome. The owners seem like good people. Most of them, at least.”
Conrad’s brows shot up. “Most of them?”
If I had the flexibility to kick myself, I might have. “One of the higher-ups, not Quentin, just seems like an asshole.” I gave him a pointed look. “You know the type.”
He responded with an unimpressed look, then said, “MyHome has been all over the news in the last couple weeks. Their founding investor is dying, his kids have gotta be scrambling for all that money, there was an attack at their gala that’s being linked to a dangerous cult.
Something is going on there, and I want to get to the bottom of it. ”
The uneasy feeling weighed even heavier on my stomach as I shifted from one foot to the other. “Then report it to the police, Conrad. Let them investigate.”
“Call them and tell them what, exactly? That I have a funny feeling?” He gave me a condescending look.
My arms spread wide in disbelief. “That’s what you’re telling me!”
“But you’re in a position to do something about it. You don’t need a search warrant to gather information. They trust your work—Quentin sings your praises specifically whenever we have a meeting.”
The little flutter of excitement I felt at that news was almost embarrassing. “He does?”
“Don’t look so surprised,” Conrad said, annoyed. “We both know you’re good at your job. At least the cleaning part.”
History weighed heavy between us, and for the millionth time, I wished I could be in charge, that returning to my role as CEO wouldn’t ruin my business completely.
“I’m going to need you to look a little harder,” Conrad said gruffly. His eyes held mine for only a fraction of a second before he looked down at his desk again, swiping his mouse to bring his computer back to life. It was a dismissal, and that made my hackles rise all the more.
“I think you’re forgetting that I’m the boss here,” I told him, my tone holding even.
He looked back at me with sadness in his eyes. “And you’re forgetting that I’m a friend.”
Guilt worked through me. He was right. I’d known him far longer than I’d known the people at MyHome.
Even if his hunch was a wild hare, I could still continue humoring him.
At least until he gave up on this idea of fraud happening in the company.
If there was nothing to find, it couldn’t hurt anyway, right?
I let out a heavy, dramatic sigh. “What would you like me to do now, Nancy Drew?”
A smile lit his handsome face. “Look through their papers. Quentin’s first and then the other founders’.”
At my stunned expression, he added, “Just the ones that have been thrown away. If you find anything on Prodian, put it in a differently colored trash bag so it’s easy to find. Once it’s thrown out, we can legally search it.”
“There’s a difference between legal and moral,” I reminded him. I shouldn’t have had to.
“You watched all those PSAs in school,” he said. “Being a bystander is as bad as committing the crime,” he countered.
I sighed. “Once I look through the trash, you promise you’ll back off of Quentin?”
He put his hand over his chest. “I promise.”