Not What It Looks Like
Delaney
Obviously, I wasn't going to dig through the trash.
I was an adult. A civilized adult. An adult who absolutely did not root through the garbage in upscale apartment lobbies.
Unfortunately, I was also an adult whose sister's rent had been mysteriously paid by a rich stranger named Ryder Vaughn.
And not just rich. Very rich. Google had been quite clear on that.
Plus, he was tall, blond, and excessively good-looking, which made him the perfect match for my sister.
Inside the elevator, Walt said, "So about those shrimp…you wanna deliver 'em?"
I was still thinking of Tessa. "You mean, like…now?" A deal was a deal, right? Plus, I was no welcher.
"Nah. Ballgame's not 'til five. You gonna be around?"
I gave it some thought. Maddox and I had made plans to meet in the lobby at noon for our coffee date. Unless things got wildly out of hand, I'd be back with plenty of time to spare.
When I nodded, Walt said, "Terrific. I'm in 860, the one with the trout. And don't forget the truffle fries. That was part of the deal, remember?"
The trout? I didn't even know what that meant. "Don't worry. I won't forget."
"You'd better not," he teased. "I know where to find you."
No doubt he did. But two could play at this game. "And I know where to find you."
He snorted. "Only because I just told you." He paused for a beat. "And just so you know, pre-warmed would be nice. In the oven. Not the microwave. I'd do it myself, but I always mess it up."
Just then, the elevator dinged at our arrival on the seventh floor. Tossing Walt a quick goodbye, I got off and heard the doors slide shut behind me. I stood in the hallway for a long moment before turning back to eye those same elevator doors.
I bit my lip. I shouldn't.
It would be totally undignified.
And yet, almost like it had a mind of its own, my hand was already reaching for the down button. One quick press, and it was officially lit. A few seconds later, the bell dinged, the doors slid open, and there I was – staring at a conveniently empty elevator ready to carry me down.
It was a sign, right?
Way too soon, I was in the lobby, preparing to do the unthinkable. Unfortunately, the place was no longer empty.
A man in running clothes stood beside the wall of mailboxes, flipping through envelopes while two teenage girls sprawled across the sofa drinking iced coffee. Their drinks were annoyingly full.
Damn it.
Trying to look casual, I wandered toward the windows and pulled out my phone, hoping to blend into the scenery. Before I knew it, I was once again pulling up my mom's social media page.
My eyes widened. Oh. My. God.
She was in Paris.
Freaking Paris.
Shopping.
She couldn't afford Paris.
I knew this, just like I knew exactly who was paying for this extravagant shopping trip.
Me.
That's who.
As I stared down at the screen, the words tumbled before I could stop them. "Are you fucking kidding me?"
I froze. I didn't mean to say it so loud, or heck, even at all.
Reluctantly, I looked up.
Everyone was staring.
The guy at the mailboxes was frowning. The girls on the sofa were smirking. And, as if this weren't bad enough, somebody new – a woman pushing a stroller – was eyeing me like I might snatch her baby.
Where on Earth had she come from?
To no one in particular, I called out, "Sorry!"
Nobody called back.
The guy at the mailboxes gathered his envelopes and made for the nearest elevator, followed by the two teenagers, who were still sipping their drinks. The woman with the stroller hurried toward the exit.
Hoping to make up for my outburst, I beat her to the door and held it open nice and wide, so she could stroll on out.
She didn't thank me.
Instead, with a worried glance over her shoulder, she took a left on the sidewalk and kept on going.
And then, I was alone.
Well, that was one way to clear out a lobby.
I eyed the nearby trash can. Was I seriously going to do this?
A whole continent away, my mom was shopping in Paris. Meanwhile, I was preparing to dig through the garbage.
If this wasn't a metaphor for my whole life, I didn't know what was.
I gave myself a mental kick. The crumpled paper was probably right there on top, ripe for easy plucking.
I mean, it's not like I was about to dive in a dumpster.
Before I could overthink it, I strode forward, carefully lifted the lid off the trash can, and set it on the tile floor beside me – keeping my eyes trained on the elevator the whole time.
So far, so good.
But then, when I looked into the trash, I froze. The crumpled paper was no longer on top. I couldn't even see it, thanks to a giant Benny's Burgers bag that looked disturbingly full.
I leaned closer, trying to spot the crumpled paper somewhere beneath the bag.
No such luck.
My stomach sank. Technically, I could still walk away.
I mean, it's not like I would die without the receipt. But what if something had happened to Tessa? What if she needed the receipt to get out of a jam?
Or what if I needed it to help track her down?
Without the receipt, all I had was the dubious claim that some billionaire had paid her rent. Plus, he'd tried to pay it anonymously, which meant…what exactly?
Was he doing her a favor?
Or hiding something nefarious?
Screw it. I glanced once more toward the elevators and then gingerly pinched the folded top of the Benny's Burgers bag between two fingers. Slowly, carefully, I lifted the bag to reveal – thank heaven – the crumpled receipt.
With my free hand, I reached out to grab it, only to freeze in mid-motion when I heard the elevator give an ominous ding.
I looked up just in time to see the elevator doors slide open and reveal who?
Mrs. Stelter.
For one long, terrible moment, neither of us moved. She was wearing a tailored black pantsuit and pearls. Her hair was stylish. Her makeup was perfect. She was clutching a designer handbag at her side.
Me? I was still clutching the burger bag.
I opened my mouth to explain, but the only sound that came out was a strangled laugh that wasn't remotely funny.
Her eyes narrowed. Her lips pursed. She made no move to leave the elevator. Instead, she stiffly reached out and punched one of the buttons – probably the P for penthouse. A moment later, the doors slid shut, leaving me alone once again.
I called out to the empty space, "It's not what you think!"
Shit.
Well, there was no going back now.
I grabbed the receipt, dropped the burger bag back into the trash, and scrambled to pick up the lid. I slapped it back into place just as another ding echoed through the lobby.
It wasn't the same elevator. Thank God.
By the time its doors slid open to let out two guys in polo shirts, the receipt was officially mine.
Victory?
Eh, that was debatable.
I tried to look casual as the two guys crossed the lobby and left the building without incident.
I still had two hours to get ready for my coffee date.
I'd already showered first thing this morning.
But yeah, I'd be showering again.