by Tara Lain
Pop-Pop checked his messages while Lindsey glanced out the window beside Jazz. “I’m going to start you in marketing analytics. You can put some of your statistics training to use and get some exposure to creative.”
“That sounds great.”
For the next ten minutes, they talked marketing, and then they both turned to look out the window as the helicopter landed on the top of the Vanessen Building, deep in the heart of the New York financial district. As they ducked under the rotors, Lindsey yelled, “By the way, I have a surprise for you.”
“What?”
Lindsey gave him an arch look, and Jazz grinned.
Inside the doors leading from the roof, two executive types met Pop-Pop and started firing questions at him. Lindsey grabbed Jazz’s arm. “Come with me.” He led the way to the elevator and hummed a little tune while wearing a saucy smile.
Jazz crossed his arms. “Okay fam, sup?”
Lindsey got a serious face. “Just focus. You need to meet the other interns and get to work.”
“Oh, okay.”
The doors of the elevator slid open—and there stood Carla.
Jazz gaped. “What? How’d you get here?”
She laughed. “I’m an intern too.”
The door started to close, and Lindsey clapped a hand against it. “This is where we get off.”
“Is this my surprise?” Jazz asked.
“Of course.”
“How’d you get this job?”
She gave him a cheeky smile. “My family has a little clout.”
Jazz delivered back her favorite snort. “Right. And you just happen to have the highest grade point average in your school, right? And a perfect SAT?”
“Not perfect. Just 1530.” She laughed.
“Dork.”
“Nerd.”
Lindsey started down the hall. “Come on, you two.”
“Where are the rest of the interns?” Jazz asked.
“Waiting for us.” Lindsey pushed open the door to a small conference room, and two anxious people inside looked up. One stood. She was a girl—a young woman, probably a little older than Jazz—who wore a gold-embroidered head scarf that showed off her huge dark eyes and beautiful face.
“This is Khadija Hafeez,” Lindsey said, introducing her. Then he pointed to the guy, a small kid in a perfectly tailored three-piece business suit who looked no more than fourteen. “And Benjamin Bopherson.”
The guy hopped up and stuck out his hand to Carla. “Call me BeBop.”
“Carla.”
She started to shake his hand but he pulled back, then slid their palms together. “Skin, baby.” He stuck out the palm to Jazz, who cocked his head then grabbed the offered hand before the kid took it away.
“I’m Jazz.”
“Yo, Jazz.”
Jazz’s sense of smell kicked into overdrive. BeBop might look like a preadolescent choirboy, but he was smart as all hell. Definitely a genius. This kid didn’t miss much.
Jazz extended a hand to Khadija. “Hi.”
She clasped his hand firmly and met his eyes without a waver, but she spoke softly. “Pleased to meet you. And you, Carla.”
Jazz gazed at her. More brains, super competence, and whoa. Jazz glanced at Lindsey, but he didn’t seem to be registering anything out of the ordinary. Of course, Lindsey’s half-human sense of smell wasn’t very acute. To Jazz’s nose, Khadija radiated secrets… and power. Strange and mysterious power.
This internship could be a lot more interesting than he’d expected.
Chapter Seven
JAZZ COULDN’T take his eyes off his very interesting fellow interns as Lindsey said, “I’m not actually your internship coordinator. You’ll meet her tomorrow. But I wanted to welcome you and tell you how much we value your time and talents.”
Benjamin, or BeBop, raised his hand.
“No need to raise your hand,” Lindsey said.
“I couldn’t help noticing on our orientation list that this intern here—” He waggled a finger at Jazz. “—happens to be named Vanessen. So I’m guessing that might have something to do with you being our interim coordinator, right?” He grinned.
Lindsey raised his eyebrow. “Jazz is my brother. Any questions?” He gazed steadily at BeBop.
BeBop nodded to Jazz. “Good to meet an insider.”
Lindsey continued, “Okay, I’m going to give you different jobs in various departments. You’ll come together to teach each other and share ideas; then you’ll switch jobs.”
Suddenly, the door to Lindsey’s office burst open and a man stuck his head in.
Jazz gaped. It looked like the same bodyguard from the picnic.
The guy frowned. His eyes connected with Jazz’s for a second, and then he looked away. “Sorry, got the wrong office.” The words came out with a New York accent so heavy, it could have been in Goodfellas.
The door slammed, leaving a powerful lingering scent of danger.
Lindsey made a funny face, and everyone laughed except Jazz. He glanced at Lindsey, but his brother must not have noticed the guy the previous day. Carla had her back to the door. Damn, why is he here? Jazz wanted to jump up and follow the thug, but he couldn’t, and it would take time to explain to Lindsey.
Lindsey stood. “We need to get you to your offices so you can start work.”
They all followed Lindsey out the door of the conference room. Jazz looked around, but there was no sign of the bodyguard. He stepped over beside Carla and whispered, “I need to talk to you.”
She nodded. “Okay. There’s probably no time until lunch. Is that okay?”
“Guess it has to be.”
BeBop glanced at them.
Each of them got dropped off at a different department and assigned to a supervisor. After Khadija and BeBop were given their assignments, Lindsey walked Jazz and Carla to another floor and pointed to a set of double doors. “Jazz, this is you.”
Jazz smiled at his brother. “Have you saved the best for me?”
“Marketing analytics, as promised.”
Jazz nodded but looked down the hall, sniffing the air for the lingering scent of the bodyguard.
Lindsey, obviously unaware of Jazz’s suspicions, continued, “I’m going to be introducing you to Amy Jones, who heads the department. I think you’ll like her. She’ll pair you with a supervisor.” He turned to Carla. “By the way, Carla, before I forget, if you want to fly home with us in the helicopter, we’d love to have you. It’ll save your driver a trip.”
She grinned. “That would be fun.”
“I need to talk to you and Carla about that guy who came into our meeting,” Jazz interrupted.
Lindsey glanced at his watch. “Is it critical? I have a meeting and you and Carla need to get to your departments. I can come find you after my appointment.”
Why am I freaking? “I don’t think it’s critical. It’s just….” It would take too long to explain. “No problem. We can talk after work.”
“Excellent.” Lindsey held the department door open.
Jazz looked at Carla. “Meet you for lunch?”
“See you then.”
THREE HOURS later, Jazz ran out the department door, almost late for lunch. He’d met with his supervisor, Jenny Armitage, talked with three of the staff about their work, and spent an hour on mastering the analytics programs they used. It was fun and challenging. He glanced at his watch and hurried toward the elevators, pulling out his phone and texting Carla as he trotted. Running a little late. Be right there.
As he got close to the large metal doors, they opened.
Shit! Jazz ducked into a side hall then peeked around the corner.
Inside the elevator, staring up at the floor numbers, was the huge bodyguard who’d barged in earlier. It was the same dude Jazz had seen guarding Karl Evenride.
As the elevator doors closed on the bodyguard, Jazz watched the floor indicator from his hiding place. The numbers didn’t stop until it hit the sixty-second floor. Then it paused, and
the numbers started descending again. So the dude got off on the sixty-second floor. Who’s got on an office up there? He was pretty sure Pop-Pop’s office was in the seventies. Lindsey’s too. Jazz looked for a directory, but there was nothing.
The doors on the elevator farthest from him opened, and before he could talk himself out of it, he ran over and jumped on, startling a woman in a business suit. He smiled. “Sorry. Barely made it.”
She nodded and stared at her phone until she got off on fifty-nine. Jazz watched the numbers until they showed sixty-two. When it stopped, he sucked in a breath and walked off, looking casual. The floor had a quiet, reserved feel. A few large and elegant cubicles housed mostly female workers, all impeccably dressed, staring intently at their screens. A couple of desks were empty. The workers were probably at lunch.
Shit, lunch! He glanced at his phone. A text read, Where are you?
He texted back. Be right there. He should go, but damn, he needed to know who that dude had come to see.
He walked down the corridor, gazing at the elegant offices. The discreet signs next to the doors bore the names of most of the members of the board. A few of the offices were occupied, but a bunch were empty and their lights were off. Board members didn’t usually hang out at the companies they represented, but Vanessen gave them offices anyway. Waste of real estate, mostly.
“Can I help you, young man?” The voice was pleasant but no-nonsense at the same time. Think fast.
He turned to the attractive, white-haired woman with a smile. “Oh, thank you. I’m Jasper Vanessen, Casper Vanessen’s grandson.” Play the family card.
Her smile got full-on warm. “How nice to meet you. I heard you were going to be interning here. I’m Gloria Lespers, administrative associate to the chairman of the board.”
“Great to meet you.” He shook her hand.
“Are you just getting to know the building, or—” She waved a graceful hand.
“Actually, Ms. Lespers, I was going to lunch and I saw a guy who works for someone I know get on the elevator. I was wondering if he was visiting someone here.”
“Who does he work for?”
“Evenride. Karl Evenride.”
She leaned forward. “What does this man look like?”
He bent down. “Well, the associate is a really big guy, kind of mean looking.”
Her face got stony. “Yes, he’s with the man visiting Mr. Orwell, the assistant chairman of our board.”
“Oh. Thank you. I guess there’s no point waiting for him to come out, right?” He held his breath hoping she’d agree. He didn’t really want this guy to know he was asking about him.
“Their door’s closed. I have no idea when they’ll be finished.”
“Does he visit often?”
“I’ve never seen him before. He seems rather….” She pursed her subtly painted lips.
“Slick? Yeah, he is. The guy I know is sort of the same. To tell you the truth, I was really surprised that someone at Vanessen was actually meeting with this guy. So I was really snooping. Sorry.”
“Actually, I was wondering why he was here myself.”
“I guess I better get to lunch. My friend’s waiting.”
“So glad I got to meet you, Jasper.” She whispered, “Come back sometime and I’ll tell you whatever I can find out.”
“You’re on.” He ran back to the elevator. Hope Carla’s not pissed.
She wasn’t just pissed, she was walking out.
She scowled at him as he ran around the corner of the lunchroom. “Hope you had a nice lunch—with somebody else!” She marched past him.
“I’ve got something important to tell you.” He pulled her into a side hall. “You remember the guy who barged into our intern’s meeting with Lindsey, right?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t see him. He was behind me, and I didn’t want to stare. I heard him, though. He sounded like a wiseguy.”
“Remember that bigass bodyguard Donald’s father brought with him to the picnic?”
She frowned. “Kind of.” She shook her head. “Sorry. The picnic’s a blur. But yeah, I think I remember some big dude who looked like he had an AK-47 under his jacket.”
“He’s the one who barged into the room.”
“No shit?” She frowned. “What are the chances?”
“Slim. And he’s upstairs.”
“Seriously?”
Jazz glanced at the hall to be sure no one was listening. “Yeah, he got off on the floor where the board of directors has their offices. One of the admins up there told me that Donald’s father is in the building seeing one of the Vanessen bigwigs.”
“Jeez, Karl Evenride’s a totally sus guy. Weird that he’d be here at Vanessen.”
Suspicious for damn sure. “Second the motion.”
“The question is why.”
He gave her a half smile. “You do have a way of identifying the key issues.”
“We need to tell Lindsey or your grandfather or someone.”
“Yeah, but what am I going to tell them? Maybe it’s not bizarre that some guy who hangs out with the assistant governor would show up at a big corporation.”
“Ya think?”
“No. Do you?”
She shook her head. “What do you think they want, Jazz?”
“No clue, but I’ve got to find out.” For some reason, he knew that for sure.
“We better get back to work, I guess. Then we can tell Lindsey about this later.”
“Yeah. See you at five.”
As he walked into his department, Jenny, his supervisor, flagged him. “Jazz, I need you to go pick up some legacy files from a client. I texted an address to your phone. Just follow the GPS. When you get there, tell the man at the front desk who you are. Then please stop at Starbucks on your way back and pick up a mobile order under my name.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He grinned.
“Intern’s life.” She laughed.
“I said I wanted to start at the bottom.” He started for the door. “Be back as soon as I can.”
He checked his text as he grabbed the elevator and punched the button for the lobby. When the doors opened, he hit the Go button on the GPS, and walked out onto the sidewalk of the big city. He didn’t know New York well, so he was glad for the directions. Wolf nose would only take him so far.
He glanced around. This would be a good time to master the subway, but there was no time. He didn’t exactly want to play the Vanessen card, but he had a pocket full of credit cards and money, so he might as well take a cab. He walked to the curb and stuck his hand out. As a cab pulled toward him, a scent filled his nose. Danger. Like before, when the bodyguard had come in. Danger. He snapped his head around… and saw nothing.
“You gettin’ in, buddy?”
“What?” Jazz looked back at the cabby staring at him through the open window. “Oh sure. Thanks.” He climbed into the back seat.
The trip to the client’s office turned out to be only a few blocks, at least by New York standards. The cab driver told him the Starbucks was about halfway back to the Vanessen building, so Jazz ran into the client’s address, grabbed the package from the front desk, texted Jenny to place the order, and started walking back on the crowded sidewalks.
At the coffee shop, already lugging a large envelope full of some kind of papers, he discovered the mobile order included four large cups stuck into a drink holder, plus three bags of pastries tucked among the paper cups. Mainly, it reminded him he was a teenage werewolf who hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and he was hungry enough to start gnawing off somebody’s foot soon. Then again, maybe not. Wolves didn’t much like human flesh, but at that moment, he’d consider it.
Balancing bags and carriers like some kind of America’s Got Talent try-out, he hit the street, identified the way back to his office, and entered the flow of foot traffic jamming the pavement. For a guy who spent most of his time in rural Connecticut, New York was confusing but exciting.
He got smiles from people
passing since he must look exactly like what he was—a gofer proving himself on the bottom of somebody’s corporate ladder. Balancing his envelope in one hand and the drink carrier in the other, he managed to keep his footing through some jostling at street corners and even in the wake of a skateboarder defying the law as he sailed between pedestrians.
The light changed, and he strode across the street, performing his balancing act, eyes on the Vanessen building in the distance.
Suddenly, two things happened. His nose filled with an overwhelming scent of danger. As he gasped, a body, big and heavy, barreled out of an alley and ran straight into him. Everything went flying, and before he could think, his instincts kicked in.
He dropped to one knee and shot his hands out like pistons, grabbing two venti coffee drinks and setting them on the ground in time to grab the other two before they hit the sidewalk and splattered. He let the envelope fend for itself. The pastries too, although he did manage to catch one before the bag landed on the pavement.
“Oh my God, that was amazing. How did you do that?” a woman asked in awe.
The second the words hit his ears, Jazz realized what he’d just done. Shit. He looked up at the group of about seven or eight people who were gathered around him, watching. He grinned. “I, uh, study juggling. Good, huh?”
A heavy guy in a cap with a beer label on it said, “Best damned reflexes I ever seen.”
“Thanks.” He retrieved his carrier, put the drinks and pastry bags in it, and tucked the envelope of papers under his arm, then stood, balancing his carrier. “Gotta go. I’m late. Bye.”
As he speed-walked away from the audience, he realized that the smell was almost gone. The danger scent. What the hell? Is someone after me, or did I make the whole thing up? Shivers ran up his spine, and he wanted to hurry back to the relative safety of his office, although with Evenride and his goon running around there, maybe it wasn’t so secure after all. What the hell is going on?
After another block with no repeat of the scent or the sidewalk mauling, Jazz pushed into the lobby of the Vanessen high-rise and actually sighed.
