Torn (Lords of the City #1) (18 page)

True to her nature, she sat on the couch furiously typing away on her laptop, biting her lip, her brows furrowed with obvious irritation.

“Something wrong?” I asked, but she didn’t reply. I doubted that she heard me. “Julia.”

Glancing up, she seemed startled to see me there. “One moment. I’m just trying to catch a rat in the act.”

My heart pounded. “Business related?”

Her eyes darkened. “Personal.”

As the click of the keys on her laptop played like an angry song, I waited, ignoring my urge to turn around and lock myself in my room so that I would never have to tell her the truth. When the minutes streamed on, I approached her again. “Julia, I really need to talk to you.”

“And I need to talk to you,” she said, slamming down her laptop.

She knows. I’m the rat she’s trying to catch.

“Go on,” I said.

“It’s about Ronald. He claims to be a junior accountant at a firm his uncle supposedly owns. You would think they’d have profiles listed somewhere, but there’s nothing, no mention of Ronald or his uncle.”

“Perhaps nepotism isn’t something the company advertises.”

“That doesn’t explain why I can’t find his uncle. If he owns the firm, his name should be everywhere. Ronald is an intelligent man. He speaks of things that are profound and cultured. So you’d hardly think he would be stupid enough to pretend to work at a company that I can easily search for online.”

“Have you asked him directly?”

She looked horrified. “I can’t do that. We just started dating.”

“You’re afraid that if you call him out on his lie, you’ll scare him off?”

“Exactly.” She sighed. “It’s the burden of starting a new relationship. You can’t come off too possessive, but you don’t want to waste your time either.”

“I don’t know. Wasting your time can sometimes be fun.”

“Not for me. We’re so busy at the company, our free time is limited. I really want to start a family, build a real home. The sooner, the better. I need to find someone who’s right for me. I don’t mind flipping a few boards to get there, as long as those boards are flipped quickly.”

I understood. “I guess that means we’ll have to spy on him,” I joked.

Julia lit up. “That’s a brilliant idea! We need to do some snooping around. How about Wednesday? Usually, there’s not much happening on a Wednesday. Let’s take that morning off and follow him to work.”

It sounded like a terrible idea, even if I had inspired it. “If he sees that we’re stalking him, he’s going to think we’re insane.”

“Everyone is a little insane,” Julia maintained. “But don’t worry, he won’t discover us. We’re going incognito.”

“How?”

“Costumes,” she stated as if it were obvious.

“Can I be Superwoman?”

Julia laughed. “Not those type of costumes. Just wigs and stuff. It’ll be great.”

“Until we get arrested. I’m pretty sure stalking is illegal, no matter what costume you wear.”

“It’s not stalking,” she stressed. “It’s a very thorough background check. Why stare at a computer screen when we can just walk down the street?”

The idea of dressing up in costumes did sound kind of fun. I hadn’t been in one since my last year in college when I’d helped organize an anime convention in Milwaukee. I’d gone as Pokémon. Inciting a delighted squeal from her, I agreed to Julia’s plan, completely forgetting my own plan to tell her about Noah.

***

It was far from Halloween, but the costume shop was full of interesting pieces, a testament to the shenanigans found within Chicago. Dinosaurs, cavemen, and mermaids were piled high around us. Briefly, I stopped in front of a get-up of a Roman she-warrior, admiring the leather cuffs included in the package. They made me think of chains. These days, chains were constantly on my mind.

From off a rack, Julia held up a bright red Hawaiian shirt with a white print. “What do you think of this? We’ll look like tourists.”

“Tourists in Chicago don’t wear Hawaiian shirts. Tourists in Hawaii don’t even wear Hawaiian shirts,” I said with distaste, taking it from her and setting it back on the rack. “Better we stick to wigs and glasses.”

“I always wanted to go blonde,” she chirped. “Let’s go blonde together.”

“That’s a pretty big step,” I kidded. “We only just met.”

For Julia, it wasn’t simply a matter of grabbing a wig and leaving. Standing in front of a wall of hair pieces, like Indiana Jones in the Temple of Doom, she searched for the perfect shade, the perfect cut.

“The point is not to look like ourselves,” I reminded her. “Grab the ugliest one there is, and let’s go.” I held up one that looked like the bad side of a horse’s tail. “What about this one? It’s hideous.”

“Nope,” Julia refused. “In case Ronald does recognize us, I still want to look amazing.”

“You make about as good of a spy as I do,” I remarked.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Julia said, reaching for a blonde bob. “How about this one?”

“I think it would look great, which is why you shouldn’t buy it. It’s too obvious.”

“Not when I pair it with oversized Gucci sunglasses.”

“That’s even more obvious,” I argued, knowing it was useless. Julia had her mind made up.

“Now we just need something for you,” she said, staring at the wall once more. “What’s your fantasy hair color?”

“The hair I have. That’s why I have it.”

“If you’re going to be a grump about it, then I’m getting you the exact same wig as me. We are sisters, after all.”

I smiled despite my pessimism. “You do realize that will draw more attention to us, not less.”

“Hush. The blonde goes great with your hazel eyes. We’re getting them.”

We searched around to see if there were any clothes that we could possibly wear, but there were none that wouldn’t look ridiculous out in public on a Wednesday morning, so we resolved to wear anything I had brought with me from Milwaukee.

At the register, Julia pulled out the company credit card. “No way,” I said, putting my hand over the card. “We cannot use corporate funds for this.”

She’s shrugged. “Sorry, bad habit. I used to charge everything on this card. Actually, I should have given this one to you weeks ago.”

“This one?” I asked. “How many does the personal assistant have?”

“A lot. That’s the benefit of being the personal assistant.”

Suddenly uneasy and a little nauseated, as soon as the cashier had boxed up the wigs, I pulled Julia off to the side, next to a life-sized cutout of He-Man. “I know this isn’t the right place to do this, but I have to tell you somewhere. I’ve decided to extend my agreement with Noah. When I was in Chicago during the storm, I was with him. I wasn’t alone in the apartment like I led you to believe.”

I waited for her reaction, but she didn’t give me one. Her face didn’t change. “That’s okay,” she said nonchalantly. “I figured you would. Everyone does. Hell, even I did. Looking back, I realize what a misogynist turkey he is, but you get lost in the moment.”

“You’re not disappointed?” I worried her impassiveness was a mask for her anger.

“Not in you. In him. This is what he does. I mean, there’s a reason he hires personal assistants from out of town. I was a newbie from Boston. You’re a newbie from Milwaukee. He knows how lonely a newbie can be. But he should know better. He’s not doing anyone any favors, especially himself. Underneath his austerity, Mr. Stafford is a really generous man with a big heart. He owes it to himself to find love, but he never will like this.”

She stopped, considering it. “Unless what you have is more than an agreement…”

“It is special,” I said honestly, “but he’s already made it clear he can’t commit past the year.”

“Boo on him for not realizing what he has right in front of him. I know he cares about you. I’ve known it all along. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. There’s more than lust going on beneath the surface. It’s tragic that he won’t admit it.”

“What about you?” I asked. “Is that what all this is really about? Do you think you could love Ronald?”

“Perhaps,” she said dreamily. “If Ronald is his actual name. I hope he is who he says he is.”

“I think it’s a safe bet he hasn’t lied about his name,” I said with good humor. “The rest, we’ll have to find out on Wednesday.”

***

The morning was hazy. With any luck, the grayness slithering across the city would make us much less conspicuous. After grabbing two mochas, giggling in our blonde bobs, we positioned ourselves outside Ronald Weister’s apartment and fumbled around with a giant map, already failing as spies. He lived in an ordinary apartment on an ordinary street. In our wigs and sunglasses, Julia and I stuck out like a sore thumb.

“We really need to put this map away,” I whispered. “What if he comes out and asks us if we need directions? That old lady already did.”

“After she asked us for change. We need this map to hide behind.”

“That’s why we should have bought a newspaper.”

“Too late now,” she hissed, ducking down. “He’s leaving.”

Cautiously, I peeked above the map and recognize the man from the night in the apartment. “He’s even cuter in the daylight,” I whispered.

“What daylight?” she griped, looking up at the sky in her sunglasses.

“Never mind. He’s on the move. It looks like he’s a walker. Good thing I made us wear tennis shoes.”

“I hate sneakers. I feel short in them. I’d wear heels to the gym if I could.”

“Don’t give me that. You played softball. You’ve probably worn cleats your whole life.”

“Cleats are a form of heel, full of tiny little stilettos. Now be quiet. I don’t want him to hear us.”

Huddled together behind the map, we followed Ronald into the financial district, passing by numerous art installations that added a subtle grace to the somberness of the buildings around us. At one point, my shoe caught in gum and I tripped, nearly taking Julia down with me. Ronald turned slightly, and we froze like deer in the headlights, but he kept walking.

“You okay?” Julia asked as she helped me up.

I dusted myself off. “Nothing’s broken.”

“Then keep going. I’m a girl on a mission.”

Soon, Ronald turned into the exact accountancy firm that he had claimed to work for. For Julia’s sake, I was happy. Whether she admitted it or not, I knew how much she liked the guy. “See. He does work here. Now we should go. We have our own job to get to.”

“Not yet,” Julia insisted. “Maybe he knew we were following him, and he’s just in the lobby walking in circles. We have to go inside.”

“I knew this was going to be the day I got arrested, for the second time,” I said.

She smiled, her eyes big. “You were arrested?”

“For skinny-dipping. We’ll talk about it later.”

“Yes, we will,” she said enthusiastically.

Pushing our way through the glass doors, we quickly scanned the lobby. It was a bit dull, with brown granite flooring and chairs that looked like they belonged in a hospital waiting room, but it was airy, with columns that rose high. And there were interesting oil paintings on the wall of famous people who had also studied accounting, like Bob Newhart and Mick Jagger. Ronald, however, was nowhere to be seen.

“See, he’s gone upstairs. There’s nothing to worry about. He does work here. There must be some other explanation for why his name isn’t listed in the company profile.”

Julia tapped her fingers against a column, looking fretful. “I have to be sure.”

Unexpectedly, she ripped off her wig and sunglasses. “I don’t know why I didn’t think of this in the first place,” she said and marched up to the reception desk, where a petite brunette had her head in her hand, seemingly bored.

“I’m here to see Ronald Weister,” she said with the primness of Work Julia. “We have an appointment.”

“Who?” the reception asked.

“Mr. Ronald Weister.”

Feeling foolish standing alone in the lobby, I left my wig on, but I did join her at the desk as the receptionist pulled out a large directory and flipped through it. “Sorry, I’m new here,” she said. “This should only take a sec.”

“Please hurry,” Julia said impatiently, glancing at the elevators, probably worried Ronald was about to emerge from them. “We have other appointments to get to.”

I jabbed her in the ribs, warning her not to be rude. Like a true professional, she didn’t blink.

“Oh yes, Ronald Weister. The mail man,” the receptionist acknowledged, running her finger along a table in the directory.

“The mail man!” Julia exclaimed. “That’s outrageous!”

Sensing disaster, I quickly pulled her back outside. She was so angry, she was shaking. I didn’t blame her for being upset, but her reaction did seem a bit extreme, even for Julia. This guy meant something to her. If it wasn’t obvious before, it was now. It was because she cared that she was so upset.

“Does it matter if he’s a mail man?” I asked, trying to prevent gunfire.

“Of course not,” she snapped, a war unfolding in her dark brown eyes. “I was a personal assistant as of a few weeks ago. We all do what is needed to get by. But what does matter is that he lied to me.”

“He probably just wanted to impress you,” I speculated.

She put her foot down. Literally. It almost broke my toes. Thank goodness she wasn’t wearing heels.

“It doesn’t matter what his intentions were,” she said. “I believe in honesty. It’s very important to me. You were honest with me about Noah. Why can’t he be upfront about what he does for a living? Deceit is an ugly habit. If he’s willing to lie to me about this, I’ll never trust anything he says.”

I heard her, but I still felt she was overreacting. “You didn’t mind being a personal assistant because you knew it led to a promotion. Maybe he’ll always be a mail man. This may be as good as it gets for him. You’re such an intelligent, driven woman, it’s probably hard for him to tell you he’s not on the same ladder you are. He might be ashamed.”

Her shoulders dropped, some of her anger fading. “He shouldn’t be. No one should be ashamed of an honest job. I would never judge someone for the work they do.”

“Yes, but he doesn’t know that. You’re still getting to know each other,” I said, patting her arm. “We’re here, so we might as well see this through. Let’s go back in and talk to him. Say you wanted to surprise him by saying hi. He can’t fault you for that. And then everything will be out in the open.”