Revenge #4 (7 page)

As the pieces fall into place, I feel light. Elated.

“Q?”

Nick blinks. “What?”

“It’s you, isn’t it? You’re Q.”

“I don’t know who that is.”

“Hmm.” I sink back to earth and rest my chin on my hand.

After a moment, Nick says, “Aren’t you scared? Now that you know how Susan died, aren’t you squicked out by Dylan’s obsession with you?”

“He sent me two text messages this morning. I’d hardly call that
obsessed
. Besides, his wife died in an accident.”

Nick uses his fingers to make air quotes. “An accident.”

“Oh, fuck you and all your conspiracies. You don’t know what Dylan’s like. You need to get away from your creepy spycams and whatever piercing shop you’re obviously a regular customer at. You need to live a little. Maybe you wouldn’t be so pale and grumpy.”

Nick’s right eye twitches.

I’m really getting annoyed by Nick.

Today’s the big day. Friday.

I’ll be trapped down here in the basement with him all day, while Dylan’s meeting the executives upstairs. That sucks royally.

Finally, I explode. “For fuck’s sake, Nick, move your face and smile or frown or something. Are you malnourished? I’m going to order two cheeseburgers for lunch and I’m going to cram one down your throat.”

Nick’s mouth changes. It slowly moves into a Cheshire Cat smile. He looks like a murderous clown from a horror movie.

I roll my eyes. Now I’m sorry I even asked.

I grab a box of files and get to work.

Forty-five minutes later, the phone rings.

Nick doesn’t answer, but pushes it toward me.

I pick up. “Jessica Rivera. Archives. How may I help you?”

A male voice comes through the line. “I hear someone was late for work today. Now, Jessica, what did I tell you was the number one rule of business?”

“Mr. Morris?”

He chuckles, his deep voice sending waves of alertness through my body.

“Miss Rivera, come up here to my office and tell me why you were late again today.”

“What?” My voice comes out like a wheeze. “Now?”

There’s a click on the line, and he’s gone.

I look over at Nick, who is no longer smiling like a freak. His face is shining, like he’s breaking out in a cold sweat.

“Please don’t tell him anything,” Nick says.

I stick the tip of my pinkie finger in the corner of my mouth and play dumb. “You mean, don’t tell him that his employees are plotting to steal his company? Don’t tell him you guys hired me specifically because I look like the dead wife of a musician you’re trying to sign… and that you tried to pay me off to seduce him, then break up with him?”

Nick straightens up in his chair gasping. “We’ll tell Dylan,” he says. “We didn’t just
try
to pay you off. We actually did. You took the money. You’re a prostitute.”

I stand and start backing away, toward the elevator. “You wouldn’t dare. And it’s my word against yours. Who do you think he’ll believe?”

I press the elevator call button. I might be calm on the outside, playing hardball with Nick, but I’m terrified. How could I spend yesterday shopping and dancing when all this shit is going on? I need to find Dylan and confess to him about everything, before it’s too late.

He can’t sign with Morris Music, no matter how much they offer. The people here are monsters.

Nick rushes over and tries to get into the elevator with me, but I push him out. He’s as weak as he looks.

“Don’t worry,” I say to Nick. “I won’t tell Mr. Morris anything.”

“Swear?”

“Swear.”

The elevator doors close.

I’m definitely not going to say anything to Mr. Morris, because I’m not going to meet with him. I’m getting off at the lobby, where there’s a cell phone signal. Then I’m calling Dylan.

I press the button marked L for Lobby.

The button lights up, but blinks off.

The elevator hums as it rises. I travel up, above the lobby floor and past the first floor. I start pressing buttons. All the buttons. Even the emergency stop button.

The elevator keeps going, until it reaches the tenth floor.

DING.

The doors open.

Mr. Morris stands in the hallway of the tenth floor, with a girl beside him.

The girl is my sister, Riley.

“Riley?”

I step out of the elevator. I’m so stunned to see her, I nearly trip over my feet.

“Hi, Jess,” she says.

“Why are you here?”

She smirks. “See you at home,” she says, taking my place inside the elevator.

“Riley?”

She looks past me. “Really nice to meet you, Mr. Morris, sir!” She presses a button inside and waves goodbye as the doors close.

I turn and stare at Mr. Morris. With his striking white hair, his green eyes are like emeralds sparkling in the snow.

“What’s my sister doing here?” I ask.

He chuckles. “Refusing my job offer, apparently.”

“But Riley’s already got a job,” I say.

“I hear she did very good work last night with young Bryce. He’s back on track as of this morning, though I suppose I should also thank you.” He nods for me to follow him down the hall, in the opposite direction of Maggie Clark’s office.

“I don’t get it. Riley’s a pharmaceutical rep.”

He leads me into his elegant office, filling it with the sound of his deep laugh.

“She’s got a talent, that one. I imagine she’ll use my offer as leverage to get herself a raise. Good for her.”

He sits in a tall-backed burgundy leather chair. I take a seat across from his huge wooden desk. Now that the shock of seeing her is wearing off, I’m annoyed at Riley.

Did she call up Morris Music about a job? That would be just like her to jump on whatever good thing I’ve got going and wreck it.

Mr. Morris raises his snowy white eyebrows, prompting me to say something.

“Sorry I was late. It was only five minutes, but I’ll try harder next time.”

He waves a hand. “Five minutes. Pssh. I’m just giving you a hard time.” His face wrinkles as he leans forward. “You were the last person hired by David Ambler.”

“I was. But… he doesn’t work here anymore.”

“No. He doesn’t.”

I wait for more. The office is so quiet, I can hear the faint sounds of traffic outside, ten stories below.

The longer Mr. Morris stares at me, the more nervous I feel.

Finally, when I can’t take another minute, I say, “The elevator is broken. I wanted to get out and… go to the bathroom, but the buttons didn’t work.”

He doesn’t seem surprised. “Would you like to use my washroom?”

“No. I’m fine.”

He reaches over to his computer monitor and turns the screen to face me. The view is of the interior of the elevator. The grin on his face tells me he has the power to control the elevator.

“Neat trick,” I say.

“David Ambler knew a lot about elevators.”

“I never met him. We exchanged emails a few times, and that was it.”

He swivels his chair as he takes an audible, deep breath. Gazing out the window at the city, he says, “When your hair goes white, people start to treat you different. You catch them in a lie, and they insist that you’re the one who’s wrong. That you’re the one who’s forgetful.”

My eyes go to the screen, to the view of Morris employees riding the elevator. This is so creepy, but I can’t look away.

“Never get white hair,” Mr. Morris says.

“My grandmother has white hair, but she’s sharp as a tack. She doesn’t forget a thing. Well… except for the time zone difference between us now. She can’t wrap her head around that.”

Mr. Morris stays in profile to me. Even when he’s not looking directly at me, I can feel his presence in the room.

Weirdly, I
want
him to look at me. I want him to tell me I’m doing a good job. If he makes everyone feel this way, it’s no wonder he’s so powerful in the industry.

“You’re not from around here,” he says.

“Nope. But I like it. Los Angeles is fun.”

“Fun.” He chuckles. “Jessica, can you explain to me why, out of all the intern applicants we receive, David Ambler hired you?”

Suddenly, my school training kicks in. Before graduation, we did a hundred mock interviews. I know the answer to this one.

“Sir, I believe my resume and school transcripts opened the door initially. I did graduate at the top of my class, from a respected program. My school puts an emphasis on developing a strong work ethic and leadership skills. When I was fortunate enough to interview with Mr. Ambler, I let him know that my life-long passion for indie music would give me an advantage over other business school graduates.”

Mr. Morris turns to face me, laughing and clapping his hands slowly.

“Very good,” he says. “I’d hire you on the spot, and ten more like you.”

“Thank you.” I beam with pride.

“Next question. Is Dylan Wolf worth a million dollars?”

My heart leaps up into my throat. Why’s he asking me? Of course I’ll say yes. I’d say anything to help Dylan.

“Wait,” he says, holding up a shiny quarter between his fingers. “Let’s make it interesting.”

“Dylan’s very talented,” I say. “Plus he’s likable, and he has star quality…” I trail off under the intimidating stare coming from Mr. Morris and his emerald green eyes.

“I’d be taking quite a risk to sign the young man,” he says. The quarter dances back and forth across his knuckles like magic. “But you’re the one who could lose everything. If Dylan takes this deal, your budding puppy love affair won’t last a month. So, Jessica. Do you love him?”

My voice comes out a scratchy whisper. “I barely know him.”

He flips the coin high in the air.

My heart feels like it’s in my throat.

He snatches the coin easily, and slaps it against the top of his other hand.

“Your call,” he says. “His new songs are terrible, but I believe he can do better. Call the coin, and if you’re right, I’ll authorize the deal.” He pauses. “God help us all.”

“Heads.”

He slowly lifts his hand away. I lean forward, straining to see the shining surface. In that moment, I know.

I do love Dylan.

But it’s a selfish love, because I’m praying the coin is tails.

“Heads,” he says.

I smile and nod. I should be thrilled. Dylan’s going to get his deal, and he’ll be happy. If I really, truly loved him, I’d want the best for him.

But here I am, secretly hoping he’ll stay a street busker in LA. So we can hang out more.

He deserves better than me.

Mr. Morris picks up the phone and starts making a call.

I take this as my cue to leave, and walk out the door.

He calls after me. “Jessica, stop off at the ninth floor for your consolation prize.”

“Okay,” I mumble.

After I leave the tenth floor, I stop on the ninth to see Stephanie.

She has her assistant fetch me a fresh coffee and a magazine while she makes calls.

Stephanie talks to Mr. Morris, then books the best hotel room she can get at short notice. She even orders room service.

I get a text message from Dylan:

Blue Shoes. I’m going into the meeting now. Don’t tell them I’m nervous. I’ve got the bodyguards with me. You know what? I don’t think the bodyguards Q assigned are to protect me. I think they’re here to hold me back if I get… passionate. But don’t worry. I’m saving all my passion for you.

Dylan

I text him back to wish him good luck.

“I bet you’re excited to celebrate,” Stephanie says. “You may do this a dozen times in your career, but there’s no time like the first.”

I just keep flipping magazine pages, pretending to read about celebrities. Inside, I’m horrified. Stephanie is suggesting I’ll go to a hotel room to celebrate with other, different guys.

Screw that. I’m quitting this job as soon as Dylan gets his money.

I just have to play it cool a few more days.

Stephanie’s on the phone again. “She’ll be there in twenty minutes.”

She hangs up, and starts motioning for me to get going.

“I can sit in on the meeting upstairs?”

“Not a chance. You’re going to the spa to get every inch of you waxed and massaged.”

“I’d rather just stick around here, thanks.”

She hands me an address. “Do as you’re told.”

I take the card, silently cursing her.

“A driver will be waiting out front,” she says.

I frown. I was planning to go straight home, but I guess today’s not about me getting what I want.

I take the elevator down to the archives. Nick isn’t around.

I gather up my bag and other things. It’s too bad I can’t take the flowers, since I might not be back Monday.

Outside, a sleek towncar is waiting for me.

The next few hours pass in a blur of spa treatments, a makeover, and shopping.

Now it’s seven o’clock Friday night, and I’m waiting.

In front of me is a room service trolley, loaded up with champagne and food. I cross my legs and adjust my pose on the nice sofa in the hotel suite.

I’m all alone here, in the penthouse suite, waiting for Dylan to arrive.

He’s been in touch with me by text messages only.

He told me he signed the deal with Morris Music. A significant deal. Like, the kind of deal all the industry blogs are buzzing about. And the blogs are buzzing.

There’s no way people could have gotten the news this fast. Someone within Morris Music was sending out announcements.

I check the clock over the grand marble fireplace. 7:01pm. Dylan said he’d be here by 6:30.

The longer I wait, the more I worry that Mr. Carter Morris was right.

Now that Dylan has signed his deal, our relationship could fall apart. Maybe he was only with me to get him inside information. Maybe when he looks at my face, he sees his dead wife, and he secretly hates me.

Who’s been playing whom?

I smooth down my new black dress. Underneath the dress is more new underwear, all black and lace. I flick some lint off my new dress. If only I could flick away my doubts as easily.

By 7:30, I’m not just nervous anymore. Now I’m pissed. Dylan’s keeping me waiting. With each minute, I feel our relationship becoming disposable.