by Claire Kane
I don’t mind spending time with you, but I’ve got a lot of things I need to do. If you’re not coming home with me, then I’ll wish you luck, and take care of business. But don’t worry—I’ll check in now and again. Just don’t expect me to be at your beck and call.
The cat smirked, and Victor felt a strange wave of pleasant condescension coming from her. I’m going to check on my kittens for a bit. Maybe even a few months, they’re so cute. Well, they were cute. Now I enjoy the great grandkids. Toodles.
“Good idea. I’ll handle Lacey.” He shot the cat a look before she could make a retort. His old pet glared, instead, and stuck out her tongue, before dissolving into mist.
Victor teleported himself next to his girl. “You okay? What did your boss say?”
She paused, her brow furrowing more. “He’s not my boss anymore.”
“What? Why? He didn’t understand you needed some grieving time? Didn’t you tell him the details? Your boyfriend—I mean, ex-boyfriend—was murdered! How inconsiderate can he be?”
“That’s not it.” Lacey shook her head. A bit of wind spun a tendril of hair over an eye and she wiped it away. “I quit.”
Victor’s mouth dropped. “But I… What? Lacey, I don’t want all this”—he made exaggerated hand motions around his translucent silhouette—“to get in the way of you living your life. It will take some time to cope. God knows I need time! But you can’t just quit your amazing job over my sudden lack of corporealness.”
“Is that a word?” The side of her mouth turned up.
“I don’t know. I’m the accountant; you’re the journalist.” He stopped. “Why are you smiling?”
“It will be okay,” she assured, a sense of strength shining through her brown eyes.
“This is why women are confusing,” he said, gesturing to her. “Am I going to have to dive into more mind reading?”
“Look, Victor, I quit him while in Japan.” She started walking, her heels clacking against the concrete, as she headed to the stairwell’s door. “He wasn’t being totally honest about things. Plus, it will be best for Nainai, at least until I figure out a plan of care for her. I’m thinking, if her condition worsens, I might need a nurse to watch over her when I’m not home. Besides, I’ve got savings that’ll hold me for a while. And my résumé is excellent. I’ll find more work again soon.”
“He hit on you, didn’t he?” They descended the stairs together toward the parking lot, Victor practicing floating, rather than stepping, as he went.
Lacey sighed. “Well, you cut to the chase. I don’t know. Maybe a little, but I pretended not to notice. But that wasn’t the reason I quit. The reason I quit was dishonesty. He defined ‘shady.’ I don’t even think he ever really intended on giving me a talk show.” She gripped the handrail, halting a moment. Some people ascending passed her by.
“Lacey? Why didn’t we just take the elevator down?”
She frowned. “Because everyone else would be doing the same thing. The stairs were supposed to be private enough that I could talk to you without looking certifiable.”
“That’s so sweet,” Victor quipped. “Always nice when a hot woman wants to get you alone.”
She swatted at him. “Give it a rest. Anyway, I found some evidence having to do with illegal exporting. He let me borrow his laptop since mine was on the fritz… and let’s just say I stumbled upon things.”
“Things?” Victor raised his eyebrows. “Care to share?”
“Something tells me he was shipping things he shouldn’t have to a number of other countries—mostly in Asia.”
“Illegal exporting?” Victor scrunched his nose pensively. “Why in the world would he need you for that?”
She frowned. “I don’t know. I’m assuming I was some sort of cover for his dealings.”
“What was he having exported?”
Lacey pulled up her phone, opened her camera app, and slid to a picture of a bright yellow bird. It was small, its wings caught in motion.
“Birds?” Victor said incredulously. “What the…?”
“Parakeets to be exact. And that’s not all.” Lacey swiped to a picture of an amber-colored, small bottle.
“And that would be? What? Vanilla?”
“No, an aphrodisiac supplement.” Lacey frowned.
“Parrots and sex stimulants. I should be less surprised, considering who we’re talking about.” An image of Greg Mendoza popped up in Victor’s mind: half-naked, lying in a room filled with the exotic birds, his chest oiled with an opium love spell. He shuddered. “Well, I’m glad you got out of that when you did. Does this mean we can turn our full attention to figuring out why I’m your new night light?”
Lacey rolled her eyes. “Not quite.” She stopped in front of a black Lincoln MKZ, and triggered the locks. “Get in,” she said.
Victor complied, and grabbed for the seatbelt by habit, remember immediately how unnecessary that was once his hand went right through it.
“He wants to meet with me tonight,” Lacey said, putting on a large pair of sunglasses, and pulling out of the lot.
“You said no, right?”
“No, I said yes. He wants to explain. And I want to wrap up some unfinished business.”
“Isn’t that what Human Resources is for?”
“Don’t worry. It will be quick. I can still work on your case.”
THIRTEEN
The chopper’s blades sliced the air so loudly Lacey struggled to hear Greg even through the headphones. It was dark out, and they were climbing higher than the Space Needle, a spray of stars seeming to beckon them toward Heaven. Victor sat in the back seat, grateful he didn’t have to listen to Rao chastising him. It allowed him time to seethe at the thoughts rolling out of Lacey’s recently-former boss, Greg. The man must be an expert pilot to be able to fly so smoothly while simultaneously fantasizing about the woman next to him.
“I’m glad you decided to take me up on my offer to explain myself,” Greg said, looking toward Lacey not quite long enough to give himself away. But neither Lacey nor Victor were fooled. “I wanted to talk about, well I wanted to talk about a few things.”
Lacey could already smell the charm coming on—his feigned “vulnerability,” where he put on his “human” side to make himself seem more boyishly approachable.
“This dude is such a scam artist, Lace,” Victor growled. “I’d deck him if I could. You don’t even want to know what he’s thinking about you. I’m glad you quit your job.”
Lacey, for her part, managed to merely grind her teeth and maintain a professional demeanor while Greg carried on. Seattle passed below them, downtown falling behind as they sped over silent, steel mountains of cargo containers on the piers, and south toward the industrial district.
“You know,” Greg said, completely unaware of Victor and his conversation with Lacey, “it’s a shame that accountant ex-boyfriend of yours died. Like I said, we could have used him. You may have guessed that KZTB sometimes… struggles… with money. Advertising revenue hasn’t been as good, the last three quarters, as usual. It’s part of why we wanted to branch out and give you your own show.” He shot her a look, and Lacey felt ice run through her veins. “You sure you won’t change your mind about resigning?”
Lacey suppressed a shudder. “I’m certain.”
Greg frowned lightly, but shrugged. “Suit yourself. But remember—if you ever want to come back…”
Neither Lacey nor Victor needed to read minds to catch his meaning.
“As I was saying, we’ve been trying to get ourselves back in the black. If my MBA taught me anything, it’s that a business model with diversity can get you through some tough times. And so, I helped the station diversify.” Just then, he banked hard around, throwing Lacey sideways. She caught herself immediately, just as the helicopter started a quick descent toward a group of buildings by the water.
“Sorry ’bout that.” Greg chuckled. “I guess I take out my rush hour frustration in the air sometimes.”
&n
bsp; Lacey faked a smile. “Of course.”
Victor growled behind her. “Get away from this guy, Lace. As soon as you land. Call a cab, or something.”
Lacey ground her teeth again, and rebuked Victor mentally. Have some faith in me, Victor. I’m a big girl. You never did give me credit for that.
Victor smiled automatically. “Hey! You did it! You broke down and talked to me with your mind again. That’s my girl.”
Lacey turned her face toward the window so Greg wouldn’t ask why she blatantly rolled her eyes. She noticed the helicopter closing on a run-of-the mill warehouse, pier-side. The ugly, gray brick of a structure seemed to be the product of World War II thinking, though, surprisingly, it had a helipad on the roof. Victor glanced down as well, and felt himself grow cold.
“Oh, no. Please, no,” he muttered.
Lacey turned around instinctively, sensing his fear. “What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Excuse me?” Greg cut in, eying her oddly, before checking the back seat.
Lacey cleared her throat. “I thought I heard some weird noise from the engine compartment. I don’t know much about helicopters, and I got worried.”
Greg chuckled easily, and patted her knee. “That’s okay. I’ll take care of you.”
Victor growled again, and lunged for Greg, but only succeeded in winding up outside the helicopter. The KZTB manager removed his hand quickly enough that Lacey didn’t have to, but she was simultaneously embarrassed and flattered that, even in death, Victor was jealous.
Victor stuck his head back through the canopy. “You need to get out of here, Lacey.” Already, dark shapes swarmed up from the warehouse, hissing and wailing as they angled directly for him and the helicopter. He could only imagine what they’d do to Lacey if they got her. “Go now.”
I kind of can’t, Victor, she thought, trying hard to put an edge in her mental tone. Not all of us can leap tall buildings in a single bound or move through solid objects.
Suddenly, Victor was looking around frantically. “I can’t stay. I need to—aw, man!” In an instant, he disappeared from view.
Lacey scowled. Victor? Victor? What’s going on?
“You okay, Lacey?” Greg said, as the chopper touched down without a bump.
Lacey blinked as her head pivoted, trying to search for Victor without letting on to her growing sense of dread. Something in the air didn’t feel right, and it seemed to have gotten much worse since landing. “This is an unfamiliar part of town,” she said. “I’m just trying to orient myself.”
Greg peered at her a moment. “You do remember covering a story about money laundering in the Industrial District a few months back, right? We’re on River Street. That River Street, if that helps.”
Lacey groaned inside. Of course Greg would have remembered that. “Oh. I guess coming in from the air threw me off a bit.”
Greg shrugged, then flipped a few switches, and the roar of the engine faded to a mournful whine that reminded Lacey too much of a banshee. In a fluid motion, he unbuckled, and popped open his door. By the time Lacey had undone her harness, her ex-boss was already opening her door, and extending a hand to help her down. She tried not to bite her lip as she debated taking the hand for show, or simply getting out on her own. She opted for the latter, and nimbly hopped out of the helicopter, skipping right over the step and landing easily despite the fact that she was in heels. The wind from the blades still made a mess of her hair, but she felt something else in that cold, stiff breeze. Victor, she thought again. Where’d you go?
The lack of response made her shiver.
Greg, hunching against the dying gale of the rotors, placed a hand on her shoulder and directed her toward a stairwell door on the roof. They hurried inside, and down a set of stairs, emerging into a dimly-lit warehouse. Immediately, the smell of the river was replaced by a series of exotic, spicy scents, none of which Lacey could identify. Some smelled superb; others made her nose burn. The usual hum of overhead fluorescents was punctuated by distinct chirping sounds from further on in the warehouse; the noise reminded her of the parakeets she’d once owned. So this is where Greg keeps them. Why is he showing me this?
Greg walked over to a shelf laden with small, wooden crates, and gestured. “Lacey, I’ve got a gift for you.”
She stiffened, but did her best not to show it, instead raising her eyebrows as if curious. “You don’t have to get me anything, Greg. And you’re not going to buy me back into KZTB.”
The producer laughed. “I’ve always loved your spunk and spirit. We’re really losing out by losing you. But don’t worry, I’m not going to force the issue. This isn’t a bribe; just a gift. And to sweeten the deal, you get to pick your gift.”
She narrowed her eyes as Greg pulled the top off one of the crates. Inside, packaged in straw, were a dozen or so glass bottles with varicolored liquids, or even powders. Flicking a glance at him, she inched forward. “What are they?” She suspected she already knew.
Greg smiled wide. “Cosmetics. Have a look.”
Lacey felt her skin tighten, but Greg took a generous step away from the shelf. Carefully approaching the crate, she gave him a wide berth, keeping an eye on him even as she furtively examined the contents of the box. Something on a label caught her eye, and she lifted one of the bottles gently out of the packing straw. She peered at the label, then turned her eyes on Greg. “Powdered unicorn horn?”
Greg laughed. “Okay, ya got me. Remember what I was saying I’d learned from my MBA? Yeah—this is me ‘branching out.’ Turns out, there’s a good market for ‘alternative’ cosmetics in Asia. You wouldn’t believe the stuff some people buy over there; and I don’t just mean products, but ideas. Like ‘Santa Claus’ ideas. That ‘powdered unicorn horn’? It’s scented talc with a little glitter. Pure placebo, but it sells way better than you’d think. All this,” and he waved his hand at the expansive warehouse, “is my stock. I get the stuff from suppliers all over the world. It’s staggering how much you can make on the margins as a middle man. And Seattle, being the port city it is, is the perfect place for running an export business. We save big by cutting down on over-the-road shipping costs.” He smiled proudly. Lacey pretended to be impressed.
“See,” he continued, “I got the idea a few months ago when we first visited Japan. In fact, your, uh, old boyfriend kind of clued me into it.”
Lacey’s jaw dropped slightly. “Victor? Victor has trouble picking out a deodorant scent. What would he know about perfumes and cosmetics?”
Greg waved it away. “Friend of a friend, is all. I was just trying to be nice to your man.”
She grimaced. “He’s not…” She trailed off, fighting the unexpected lump in her throat.
“Oh, geez. I’m sorry,” her old boss said, stepping toward her. “That… that was really insensitive of me.” He put a comforting arm around her, but Lacey politely stepped away. “I know it’s still pretty raw, even if he did walk away from you. He lost big, giving you up.”
Lacey bit her lower lip and turned back to the crate of cosmetics. Infusing indifference into her voice, she lightly said, “Can we please not talk about it?”
From the corner of her eye, she saw Greg nod. “Yeah. So, back to business, take a look at these perfumes.” He reached past her, his hand uncomfortably close, and pulled free a perfume bottle with amber-colored liquid in it. The label was in Chinese, but had the English words, “Goddess’s Delight” beneath it. “Here,” he said, offering it to her. “This is one of the more popular ones.”
Lacey took the bottle warily, and spent a few moments trying to read the ingredients. Finding that her Chinese was not up to snuff, she decided to test it carefully. Holding the bottle at arm’s length, she spritzed the air, then took a shallow whiff. To her surprise, the scent was, in fact, quite heavenly. She sprayed the faintest bit on to her wrist, where it tingled pleasantly, and took a slightly deeper breath. Then another. And another. “Mmm,” she said. “This is divine.”
“Like it?” Greg
asked. “Keep it. It’s on me; we build samples and gifts into the profit margin, along with lost and damaged inventory. In fact, why don’t you try out some more of these? You can’t have them all, but maybe one or two that you really like. And take your time. I want you to really get a vision of what we’re trying to do here. I’d like you to really like our products.”
She looked sideways at Greg. “I thought you were a television magnate. Not the Avon lady.” She was grateful he didn’t seem aware of what she’d learned from his laptop; she could do without his suspicion.
He laughed openly. “Man, I’ll miss you, Lacey. Not even Debbie has quite your humor or charm. And I mean that.”
Lacey knew better than to believe the compliment, but she couldn’t help the little flutter of pride in her chest at the comparison. After all, Deborah McMahon hadn’t been hand-picked to spearhead an attempt to do a foreign morning show. For the briefest of moments, Lacey began to wonder whether she’d been too rash in quitting KZTB.
She shook her head clear, and selected another bottle of perfume, ignoring the warnings in her head. With another spritz and a breath, she found a second scent that she liked. The third bottle was too bitter for her tastes, the fourth a bit too “old woman,” but the fifth was even better than “Goddess’s Delight.” Before she knew it, she had sampled a couple dozen perfumes from various boxes, and found it was getting difficult to stop. The fragrances called to her in alluring ways. She felt warm inside, heady, and alive.
Greg was right—he’d make a killing off this stuff. She could smell it all day and never get tired of it. On and on she went, moving from perfumes to eye shadow, mascara, and a rainbow of nail polishes. She even tried some of the “powdered unicorn horn” with a surprisingly girlish giggle.
When she turned back toward Greg, she couldn’t help but notice just how handsome he was. How had she not seen that? His smile seemed to gleam, and his eyes were gorgeous. She asked herself why she’d ever shied away from him, and, in fact, when he stepped toward her and reached past her to take another product—facial cream—out of the crate before her, she shivered with delight when his hand brushed hers.
