by Shay Stone
Her eyebrow arches.
“I think I’d rather stock up on batteries,” she gibes, ripping the papers from my hand. I wince as they slice through my fingers leaving several nasty cuts. Nyla smirks at my pain. “Careful, Memphis. Didn’t you here? I’m a tiger. I bite.”
“God, I hope so,” I call out as she prowls out of the room. I catch a glimpse of her profile and see the corner of her mouth turn up.
“Memphis, my apologies. Shall we begin?” Edward says, taking a seat at his desk. He spends the first ten minutes explaining he’s having the company vetted because he’s about to go public and wants to anticipate any problems but mentions nothing about the embezzling. I play dumb and assure him I’ll do a thorough job. The next twenty minutes are spent discussing the upcoming baseball playoffs, bonding over our mutual hatred of the Yankees, and reminiscing about growing up watching games with our dads.
When he asks if my dad and I are still close, I find myself telling him about my father’s health issues. He empathizes, sharing details about his wife’s rapid deterioration and growing confusion before a brain tumor claimed her life. Before long, another twenty minutes have passed.
“Is that the time?” I ask, noticing the clock on the wall behind him.
He consults his watch and rises. “I’m afraid so. Nyla’s going to kill us.”
We begin making our way out of the office when the intercom buzzes. “Mr. Moreau, Mr. Regan is on line one with a question about some specs.”
“You go on ahead. I’ll catch up with you in a minute.” He pats me on the back and walks to the desk. “Oh, and Memphis, if you ever need to talk about your dad, or anything else for that matter, my door is always open.”
“Thank you, sir.”
As I make my way down the hall, I can’t help wondering if anything Mike told me is true. None of it makes any sense. Edward seems genuine and kind-hearted and Nyla’s affection for him was apparent even in the brief interaction I witnessed. I can’t believe she’d steal from him or her charity. She spoke about it with such passion last night. You can’t fake that.
Mike showed me one refund request and a purchase order. That’s it. Maybe he created them knowing I wouldn’t do the job otherwise. Or maybe I’m hoping that’s the case. The only way to know for sure is to investigate. I’m anxious to get back to my computer, but first I have to get to this seminar that I’m now over twenty-five minutes late for.
I enter the area where the conference is supposed to be taking place. It seems Christmas has come early for me. Nyla is alone in the room, stretched across the table setting a folder in front of each chair. The slit in the back of her skirt lets me see halfway up her thigh revealing a black lace garter belt with tiny satin bows. A million fantasies run through my head, most involving me tearing that skirt in half, bending her over that table, and pushing into her from behind.
“So, are you going to stand there all day and stare at my ass, or are you going to help me pass these out?” she asks, meeting my eyes in the window reflection.
“Tough call. On one hand I want to impress the new boss. On the other, it’s a really great ass.” I went for the laugh hoping to break the tension. I don’t get it. She’s still pissed. She slaps a stack of folders against my chest.
“Where is everyone? I thought the seminar was supposed to start at ten.”
“It was. It got pushed back because the speaker is running late. Good thing too, because you and my dad would have missed it. Speaking of which, where is he?”
“He’ll be here in a minute. He got a call as we were coming.” We round opposite sides of the table making sure each spot has a folder until we meet in the middle. “Hey, can we talk for a minute?” I ask, resting my hand on her arm. She glances at it, crinkling her nose like I’ve just smeared crap all over her silk blouse.
“You want to talk? Okay, fine. Let’s talk.” She slams the last folder on the table and faces me. “How about we start with you telling me what the hell you were doing in my office this morning?”
Shit. Does she have cameras hidden in there? How the hell did she know? Part of being a good con man is expecting the unexpected and anticipating problems before they arise. You have to be able to come up with answers like you knew the questions ahead of time. Normally, it’s not a problem. But once again, I find myself not wanting to lie, which is something I need to get the hell over now that I’ve committed to doing this. Her eyes sear into mine waiting for an answer.
She shakes her head and wiggles her finger in front of my face. “You know, it’s like I can actually see the wheels turning in your brain. So, before you lie to me … again … let me save you the trouble. The next time you decide to break in somewhere, skip the sexy cologne and remember to take your coffee cup.”
“You think my cologne is sexy?”
“Really? That’s the part of the sentence you chose to focus on?”
Her eyes are blazing with fury and her cheeks are flushed. And that’s when I say the dumbest thing I possibly can. “You know, you’re cute when you’re mad.”
She snorts in disbelief at the giant dumbass standing in front of her. Before either of us can utter another word, our co-workers start filing in and take their seats. I try to pull Nyla aside, but a harried woman carrying a presentation board interrupts us.
“I’m sorry I’m late. Where should I set up?” she asks, surveying the room to scope out the best spot. Nyla greets her, making small talk while walking to the head of the table, leaving me standing alone. I curse under my breath and take a seat in the chair Mike has saved for me.
My eyes remain glued to Nyla, willing her to look at me, but she ignores my existence. When there’s a lull in the room, I clear my throat to gain her attention and mouth, “I’m sorry.”
She resumes her conversation with the speaker, casually scratching her shoulder, using only her middle finger to do it. Okay, so apparently, she’s the type to hold a grudge. She isn’t going to make this easy. I’m going to have to work to get back in her good graces. Alright, angel. Challenge accepted.
Mike catches our exchange and leans closer to me. “I see you and Nyla are hitting it off with a bang. You must have used your usual charm.”
What the hell? Why does everyone think I’m so bad with women? I’m great with women. I just suck at being myself with them. That’s when it hits me. I need to stop being myself. It’s time I stop treating her like she’s somehow different than the rest and do what I do with every mark—because that’s all she is. A mark. That’s all she can be, for Mason’s sake. I need to figure out the kind of man she wants and become that guy.
An older fellow blows into the room storming up to Nyla with complete disregard for her or the woman she’s conversing with. His face is red and puckered with anger. Emily and another employee dart out the door while the remaining employees are set abuzz, gossiping in hushed tones.
I sit forward on high alert, keeping a close eye on Nyla. I nudge Mike. “Who’s that?”
He groans. “Harrison Moreau. He’s the reason we’re having this seminar today. He shows up once or twice a month just to stir things up and remind everyone he’s still around. They say he used to be a nice guy, but he’s always been a prick to me.”
I would have never recognized him. In the few pictures I’ve seen, he appeared thin and meek. This man is bold and aggressive with a bloated face and protruding stomach, which if I had to wager a guess, were the result of years of alcoholism.
“This is stupid. Why do I even have to be here?” he shouts, invading Nyla’s personal space. She lays a hand on his forearm trying to placate him. He jerks away with such violence he almost strikes her face. I’m immediately on my feet, but before I can take a step, Emily and the other employee return with Edward.
He approaches them, urging Nyla and Harrison into a corner. After speaking for a few minutes, the man shakes his head and throws himself into one of the vacant chairs. Edward sits beside him and the two continue whispering, but I’m too far away t
o hear what they’re discussing.
Mike is engaged in conversation with the guy next to him when Nyla strolls our way, frowning when she sees the only chair open is the one next to me. She sits, immediately angling her chair away from me and places a yellow legal pad on the table. I’m watching her. She’s watching Edward. And Edward’s watching Harrison.
I scoot up to the edge of my chair, careful not to draw attention to us. “Are you alright?”
“I’m fine.”
Okay, if I’m going to get her to talk to me, let alone marry me in the next few months, we’re going to have to get past this damn hostility she has towards me. Not that it’s unwarranted. “I came to your office this morning because I wanted to apologize.”
“Did you? And you thought breaking in and invading my privacy was the best way to do that?”
“The door was open when I got there,” I fib, but what else am I going to do? I can’t tell her the real reason I was in there.
“Sure, it was.”
I push on. “I was going to leave you a note, hoping it’d be the first thing you’d see when you got in. But then I worried someone else might find it and decided it was better to talk face to face.” She keeps her eyes forward and doesn’t answer. This isn’t working. I need to get her alone. “Have dinner with me.”
“I already told you no.”
“A drink after work?”
“Oh, no. I’m not making that mistake again.”
“Nyla, please. We’re going to be working together. We need to straighten this out.”
An older woman seated in front of us gives a reproachful glance back. She returns her gaze forward rocking back in her seat to eavesdrop. I put my elbow on the table covering my mouth with my fist to muffle my voice. “Please give me a chance to explain.”
“There’s no need. Just drop it. Now shhh, the seminar’s starting. You should pay attention. I think you could really benefit from it.”
The speaker takes her position at the front of the room and welcomes us. “Good morning, everyone. Today, I’d like to discuss sexual harassment in the workplace.”
Nyla bites back a grin. I laugh to myself.
Touché.
TEN
Gather Intel
After the seminar, Nyla thanks the speaker and leaves with Edward and Harrison. I don’t get to see her the rest of the day. My weekend is spent searching for places to move Mason and my Dad. My nerves will be on edge until I get them out of that house. I found a couple possibilities, but most aren’t in the best areas and the ones that are in decent neighborhoods, I can’t afford.
To give myself some peace of mind, I had a monitored security system installed, complete with motion detectors and cameras I can check from my phone or laptop. Cora gave me a little flack about it, unable to understand why the hell I was putting an alarm in a house they would be leaving soon. I used Dad’s new tendency to wander as an excuse, telling her the doors will sound when opened, and it will be a good way for her to keep track of him. I left out the part about the possibility of gangsters showing up to look for me.
When Monday finally rolls around, I’m itching to get back to the office. Though I’ve just met Nyla, I realize two days is two days too long to go without seeing her. It’s stupid how the mere thought of her makes me giddy. Giddy! No grown man should be giddy. I’m surprised I’m not skipping down the damn hall.
Unfortunately, it appears Nyla didn’t spend the weekend counting down the minutes until she saw me again. Every time I see her, she avoids me like I’m the weird kid that ate paste in elementary school. And the rest of the week isn’t any different.
It’s gotten so absurd that I’ve resorted to sending her emails every day that simply say, “Lunch?” Each one yields the same response: “I don’t date people I work with.” Never in my life have I had to work this hard to earn a woman’s forgiveness. I have caught her staring at me a few times, or maybe she’s the one that’s caught me, because if she’s in the room, my eyes are on her.
But no matter what I do, I can’t seem to get her alone, and I’m beginning to think that’s not a coincidence. I bet if I check, there’s a permanent imprint on the corner of her desk from Mike’s ass. Every time I see him, he’s chatting her up, and it’s pissing me off. I let him know it too. He blew me off claiming he’s just doing what I taught him—working the mark.
Friday morning, I’m at my desk bright and early hoping to get some work done without any interruptions. I may be a fake, but the job I have is real. The small cubicle I’ve been assigned is away from everyone else’s, but my coworkers, especially the female ones, keeping finding excuses to stop in and chat.
I shrug off my suit jacket and start going over some financials. Not only do I have to sift through and compare every purchase order, inventory ticket, and invoice for the last year, I also have to investigate every company to make sure they exist. There’s a lot of ways to steal money, and I know the majority of them. Yet another thing I owe to Sheila.
I’ll admit, I’ve been avoiding researching the purchase order Mike showed me. I haven’t pressured him for the list of fake companies either. I’m not sure why. I guess I’m not ready to know.
“Good morning, Memphis. Did you see our boys hand the Yankees their asses yesterday? I see a pennant in our future.” Edward says, passing by my desk.
“I did. It was a great game.” I realize why I like him, and it’s not just because he’s a Red Sox fan. He reminds me a lot of Mr. Nichols. That’s not doing my conscience any favors.
I pull up Jen’s Facebook page and comb through it in search of anything mentioning Nyla. Every snapshot she’s featured in portrays her as a vivacious, fun-loving, kind-hearted friend. And she’s a dog lover! There’s an adorable picture of her laughing while getting licked on the face by a goofy-looking Pitbull mix with the caption: Coco loves her Auntie Nyla. The more I learn about this woman, the more I like her.
Enough dicking around. I need to find out if Nyla really is as corrupt as Mike says, if for no other reason than because it will make me feel less guilty about pulling this job. I clear my browser and type in the code he told me, the one specific to Nyla’s computer, but I can’t seem to make my finger press “Enter.”
Shit. I’m damned if I do and damned if I don’t. I cradle my head in my hands staring at the screen. This is stupid. Why am I hesitating?
That’s when I hear the familiar lilt of Nyla’s voice and her musical laugh. She’s heading into the breakroom. Perfect. Now’s my chance to get her alone. I wait a beat making sure it doesn’t look like I’m following her, and then rise from my chair straightening my vest. I stop short of entering when I hear her speaking with someone.
“Oh yeah, the man’s a god. The problem is he knows it.”
“I bet he knows a lot of things. I’d love to let him teach me a thing or two,” Emily responds lasciviously.
“Em, ya little pervert. You’re terrible.”
“Can you blame me? Look at him. I just want to bite that bottom lip. You can’t tell me you wouldn’t like to get under that.”
“Please, do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been under someone? What year is it? Can your virginity grow back?”
I cover my mouth stifling a laugh. Information is a con man’s greatest asset, and well, sometimes it’s just damn entertaining. How often does a guy get to listen in on girl talk? I cross my arms settling my back against the wall. I have a feeling this is going to be good.
Emily continues, “All I’m saying is, you need to have a little fun, and I bet he knows how to have fun. When’s the last time you even kissed a guy?”
There’s a pause before Emily speaks. “You kissed someone? I can’t believe you’ve been holding out on me. Who was it?” Another pause. “Oh my god! You kissed him?”
“Shhhh, you can’t tell anyone.” Nyla’s voice is a whisper and I have to strain to hear it.
“I knew it. I see the way you two keep stealing little glances at each other. Tell me
everything! Was he a good kisser? You’re blushing. Yep, he’s a good kisser.”
“He’s an amazing kisser. I swear I felt it in my knees … among other places.”
Emily makes a high-pitched squeal I’m sure any dogs within a twelve-block radius heard. “When did it happen? Was it at work? Where were his hands? Where were your hands?”
“Stop, I’m not doing this here.”
“Fine. But we’re talking at lunch. At least tell me when you’re going out with him again?”
“I’m not.”
“What? Why the hell not?”
“You know I don’t date.”
Emily groans. “You don’t date. You don’t smoke. You rarely drink. You don’t have sex. You make Mother Theresa look like a wine guzzling floozy!”
“Mother Theresa’s dead.”
“Honey, so is your sex life.”
“Why is everyone suddenly so concerned about my sex life? You, Jen, Alex … are you guys having weekly meetings about it or something?”
“If we were, they’d be over in less than a minute. There’s nothing to talk about. And it’s not your sex life we’re concerned with; it’s your lack of sex life.”
Nyla pushes out a breath. “Well, don’t be. I’m fine. I’ll get around to it. I’m just focused on my career right now.”
“So is Jen, but that doesn’t stop her from getting down and dirty with that sexy boss of hers. You’ve been doing this crazy schedule for almost two years now. Ever since …”
“Don’t say it.”
“Why? Because it’s true? Honey, you work eighty hours a week. The rest of the time you’re busy with some charity thing. I think you’re punishing yourself. It’s time to let it go, sweetie. You deserve to be happy.”
“Don’t start Em.” Nyla’s tone has turned from playful to brusque. “Are you done with the machine? Can I get my coffee now, please?”
“Hey Memphis, what’s up?” Jason from sales greets me with a lift of his chin before wandering into the breakroom. Nyla and Emily go mute. “Hey Nyla, Edward’s looking for you.”
