Investigating the Hottie

by Alexander, Juli

  I think I’d rather just have her be crazy. “First, my parents’ marriage was a farce. Now, you’re a spy. Isn’t anything as it seems?”

  At least now I was getting her sympathetic gaze. “Growing up is hard, Amanda. But I think you’re ready. You have to learn to accept that some things just aren’t what they seem, but others are. Remember those Taylor Swift concert tickets you won on the radio?”

  “Yeah?” The concert was amazing!

  “You really won those.”

  Not that comforting. Did she know everything about me?

  My cell phone rang, and she motioned for me to go ahead and answer it.

  It was my friend, Bridget. “Hey, Bridget.”

  “Hi, Amanda,” she said in her usual cheerful tone. “How was your trip?”

  “Interesting. What’s up?” I wasn’t ready to share my news yet. Plus, the possibility of death by firing squad didn’t appeal to me, and I hadn’t gotten a rundown of penalties for sloppy spy behavior yet.

  “This is a little embarrassing, but I’m . . . Well, I’m watching my neighbor’s dog, and I’m supposed to feed it fried eggs.”

  “The dog gets eggs?” What kind of person cooks for their dog? I started pacing.

  My aunt took the laptop to the dining room table to give me privacy.

  “Yeah,” Bridgett said, lowering her voice, “but I don’t know how to cook an egg.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “No. I mean I know that you crack it open and use a pan, but are you supposed to do something else with it?”

  This conversation would have seemed weird to anyone else, but for me, it was reassuring. Same old Bridget. She had zero common sense, but she was a total brain when it came to school. “Okay. You use a frying pan, and you put a little butter or oil, or some non-stick spray in it.”

  I heard her clunking around. “I’ve got vegetable oil.”

  “Okay, put a little in the pan.” I tried to keep the image of Bridget cooking for some prissy poodle out of my head. Laughing would hurt her feelings.

  Christie worked on her computer while I explained the complex process of frying an egg to a girl whose IQ was in the gifted range. The television screen went blank, and I figured Christie released the satellite.

  “Thanks, Amanda,” Bridget said.

  “No problem.” I hung up. Some things really didn’t change.

  My aunt turned to me and asked, “So, are you okay with this?”

  My cell rang again. I answered, “What now? Bacon?”

  “What?” a familiar voice asked. “Hon? It’s Dad.”

  “Oh. Hi! I’m sorry. I thought you were… Oh never mind. Hi, Dad!” He probably thought flying had scrambled my brains.

  “I just wanted to check in. Did your trip go okay?”

  “Yep. I’m at Christie’s place now. We’re just, um, catching up.” I rolled my eyes for Christie’s benefit.

  “Oh, good. I forgot to tell you to turn off your cell phone while you’re in New Jersey. Just keep it for emergencies. I can’t afford to pay roaming fees for you to chat with your friends.”

  I should have known he could sense Bridget’s call tugging on his wallet all the way in Atlanta. “You mean calls, right? I can still text.” He’s not so bad, but he’s tight with the budget.

  “I mean off. No texting.”

  My fingers twitched and my chest constricted. I knew better than to argue. If I’d saved some babysitting money or allowance, I might have talked him out of it. I had deposited every last cent into my account for my car fund. “Okay. I will.”

  “Thanks, hon. Love you.”

  “Love you, too. Bye.”

  I turned my phone off. “I guess he can’t afford the little extras now with the apartment to pay for.”

  Christie frowned. “I’m sorry to dump more on you right now.”

  “What if I don’t want to be part of GASI?” I put my cell back in my bag and sat down on the couch. Not that I wouldn’t. I mean, come on. But I’d like to have a choice.

  “You don’t have to. I can delete your file, and it will be as if it never happened.”

  “And if I want to? What then?” I crossed my legs and tried to relax.

  “I have a mission for you this week. Relatively low level of danger. You can work on it while I’m working on my current assignment. Me and my,” she rolled her eyes, “partner will be ready to help if you need it.”

  “Partner?”

  She walked over and pushed a button on the dining room wall.

  A panel slid open near the dining table, and I jumped at the sight of a tall, muscular man stepping out of the wall and into the room.

  “You’re here.” He smiled and strode toward me.

  “My partner, Nic. God help me,” Christie muttered. Then, she smiled a phony, too bright smile and said, “We were just talking about you.”

  “I’m sure it was all good,” he responded, extending his hand for me to shake. His smile seemed genuine.

  I took his hand and tried to make my handshake firm like my dad taught me. With those muscles rippling under his T-shirt, he could probably have turned my hand to dust. Nic was pretty nice looking, but way too old for me. He had to be at least Christie’s age.

  “Nic Maxwell. It’s nice to meet you.” He released my hand and stared down at me with a bright white smile against his tanned skin. “You have a reputation for being easy to get along with. I’m hoping some of that will rub off on your aunt.”

  “Very funny, Nicky.” Christie strolled over to sit next to me on the couch, hauling the laptop with her.

  Nic didn’t even glance at Christie. His eyes met mine and he said, “It’s just Nic.” He jerked his head Christie’s way. “She doesn’t like working with a partner.”

  “That isn’t true. I just haven’t found the right partner. I’m sure that there is someone out there who would be terrific to work with.” She sat back and crossed her ankle over her knee. “It just isn’t you.”

  They sounded like they fought a lot. How did they get any work done?

  “Or any of the five agents you ran off before me.” He rambled over to the table, swung a chair around, and sat.

  “Why don’t you ask to be reassigned and we’ll give number seven a chance,” Christie suggested.

  “I’m not going anywhere, Princess.” Nic glared at Christie, then shifted his gaze to me. “So, Amanda. Has Christie explained everything?”

  I could feel Christie steaming over the Princess comment. “Not hardly,” I muttered.

  “She didn’t believe me at first.”

  “You aren’t very credible. I’ve always thought you have the look of a liar. It’s a wonder you have any success in this line of work.” He winked at me. Then, he turned back to Christie. “Have you gone over the assignment with her?”

  “Not yet,” she said in an irritated tone.

  “Good. And did you warn her about the apartment?”

  “Not yet.” She rolled her eyes.

  He stopped smiling and motioned over to the door he came through. “Basically, you need to be careful about what you touch. If there is a button or a switch, don’t touch it unless you’re sure what it does. If you need to get into my apartment, you can hit this panel. It’s better if we use this door instead of going outside. It wouldn’t do my cover much good to have an underage girl knocking at my door.” He shifted in his chair.

  “Cover?”

  Christie answered first. “I’m an event planner and publicist with the university.”

  “And,” Nic smiled again. “I’m tending bar. I have to say that I’m making some great tips.”

  Christie snorted. “From men no doubt.”

  Nic ignored her so I did too. “What’s my cover?”

  Christie ran her fingers through her short hair. “Niece of an event planner moving up here to start school,” she said, trying to make it sound exciting.

  Fascinating. “Do you change covers a lot?” I couldn’t imagine being a different pers
on every week.

  “As often as we move,” she answered.

  “So you guys move around all the time? Doesn’t that get old?” Adventure was cool, but their lives sounded like chaos.

  Nic’s smile faded. “It isn’t so bad if you like the people you’re working with.” His tone made it clear that didn’t include his current partner. “Besides, it’s all for a good cause. The work we do is important.”

  Christie ignored Nic’s jab. “I love it, Amanda. I’d travel all the time if I could. I like to keep moving. This job suits me.”

  “So you guys are working on two different cases, plus the one you want me to help with?”

  Christie glanced at Nic. “We’re on the same case. It’s all related. Your assignment is totally separate though, and we’ll be monitoring you every step of the way.”

  “Let’s brief her,” Nic suggested.

  “That’s what we’re doing.” Christie hit some keys and a picture of a school appeared on the screen. “This is Princeton Academy, a private high school. We’re investigating one of the students. A young man with considerable talent for computers and hacking. We’d like for you to make contact with him. He doesn’t fit the profile, at all. And we try to be careful with minors. Once we get the ball rolling, the anti-terrorism laws can kick in, and it isn’t always pretty.”

  “Okay. So I buddy up with this computer nerd.” Didn’t sound so bad. “Then what?”

  “Well, he isn’t exactly your typical computer nerd. In fact, his profile is very unusual.” She glanced at Nic.

  “Why doesn’t he fit the profile?”

  “He’s too social, too outgoing. And too well-rounded. And his hacking has been rather unconventional.”

  “Weird is more like it.” Nic came over to the couch and sat down. “A seventeen-year-old kid hacking into a matchmaking website and messing up the matches. It’s just not normal.”

  Christie nodded in agreement. “He hacked into FindYourTrueLoveMatch.com and changed the program to make rather ridiculous matches. He also snooped around some other sites.”

  “He’s going to jail for messing up some singles ad web site?” I tugged at the collar of my sweater.

  “No,” she said. “There was no real harm done. He left a message though that he has plans for more “chaos” a week from tomorrow, which will, quote ‘impact millions of Americans.’ We need to get to the bottom of this before then. His last attacks were relatively harmless, but he did display the know-how for doing some real harm.”

  “Millions of Americans? That really doesn’t sound good.” I looked at Nic.

  “We’re really interested in what you think of him after you meet him. Try to see how he interacts with the other students. Listen for any comments about how he’s changed or that he’s been self-isolating recently.”

  “You have six days,” Christie said. “Then we’ll have to take over. We can’t take a chance on him carrying out this threat. A computer virus can do significant harm. To hospitals and financial institutions, and everything else.”

  “Sounds not so safe.”

  “It’s your first mission.” She put her hand on my arm. “You won’t be accusing him or apprehending him.”

  Then, she settled back and put a picture on the screen of a real hottie in a navy blue jacket with an emblem and a maroon tie. “Meet Will Middleton. Starting forward on the soccer team. Excellent student. And one of the most popular boys in school.”

  “That’s the guy you want me to make friends with?” He was hot with blue eyes and a killer smile.

  “He’s kinda cute,” she said, in a teasing voice. “It shouldn’t be that horrible for you.”

  She didn’t get it. “A guy like that is never going to notice me, much less hang out with me.”

  “All you have to do is be yourself. We’ll do the rest. I’ve arranged for you to be in all his classes.” She sounded so sure of herself.

  “I can’t talk to boys, Christie. Not strangers. And definitely not cute, popular boys.” A week to befriend a computer nerd, totally doable. A week to get close to a real hottie, impossible.

  “You talked to Nic without any problems,” she pointed out.

  “Yes, bu—”

  “I know. He’s older and he’s no hottie.” Christie was really enjoying herself.

  “Hey!” Nic took offense.

  I tried to explain. “He’s easy to talk to. And he isn’t a high school boy.”

  “You’ll be fine.” Christie waved a hand, dismissing my concerns. “I was shy too, but all you have to do is be yourself. You’ll be in his classes. And I have a list of options for additional contact. You don’t have to get him to fall in love with you or ask you to the prom. Just spend some time with him.”

  “I’m beyond shy, Christie. I’m totally, socially inept.” How could I possibly explain just how impossible this all was? Since my first middle school dance, interacting with boys had been nothing other than humiliating. I moved to Dunwoody and went to a Youth Group dance two days before school started. I was taller than the boys, but one asked me to dance anyway. He was kinda cute, and I danced a slow dance with him thinking it was going so well, so much better than I expected. And then, he’d opened his big fat mouth and asked if I knew that boys were supposed to lead and would I mind if he led for a while. I was horrified. I felt like crawling under a rock. As soon as the song ended, I climbed to the top of the bleachers and sat there in the dark watching the others dance until my mother came to pick me up. In the four years that followed, things hadn’t improved.

  “In a week, you’ll never have to see this guy again. You won’t know anyone here. No one knows you. You can be whoever you want to be.”

  “Christie, I—”

  “Besides, you’re a good Southern girl, friendly and full of smiles. Trust me. They’ll love you up here. I know you have lots of friends, Amanda. Your mom is always telling me about the parties and the sleepovers...”

  “I have friends. Girlfriends. Boys are different.”

  Christie’s lips twitched and settled into a grin. “True, but they aren’t as bad as you seem to think. We’ll get you some one-on-one time with him. Just try to talk some about your interests and see if he talks about his. Just be friendly.”

  “I’ll try,” I grumbled, crossing my arms over my chest. “But don’t be surprised if this doesn’t work.” Here was my chance for excitement, and I didn’t have a chance in Hades of doing it.

  They briefed me on Will, definitely “Mr. Best All Around Everything.” Then, Nic left for his bartending job, and Christie took me to see my room.

  My bedroom looked nothing like the living room. The bed sported a deep purple comforter and some furry purple pillows.

  “Awesome.” I stopped and turned to look at Christie.

  She shrugged. “I get sick of all that white, too. I shopped a little after talking to you yesterday.” She motioned to a purple laptop sitting on the desk. “I want you to feel comfortable while you’re here.” Grinning, she said, “Despite all the shocks. You can check your email. It’s a secure connection.”

  I walked over and sat on the fuzzy purple chair. “I told my friends you probably wouldn’t have a decent Internet connection.” Purple tea lights dotted the bedside table, and a hot pink candle the size of a soccer ball sat on the dresser.

  “Why don’t you email your Mom. Or call her. She’s probably expecting to hear from you.”

  It wasn’t going to be easy to talk to Mom. “She doesn’t know about any of this, does she?”

  “No.” Christie shook her head and sat on the edge of the bed. “She worries a lot. I’ll tell her, but I’d rather tell her in person. And later.” She raised her eyes to the ceiling. “Much later.”

  I saw her point, but how was I supposed to sound normal on the phone when I was dealing with this whole alternate universe where nothing was as it seemed. Except maybe Bridget. And Lexi’s peeing brother. “She’ll know something’s wrong.”

  Christie pursed her li
ps and tilted her head to the side. “She’ll probably assume you’re tired from the flight and stressed out over the divorce. Besides, it’s good practice for your undercover work.”

  When had lying to my mother become good practice? “I thought it was up to me whether I join GASI or not.”

  “It is. I swear. But you are so talented with languages, and I think you’ll enjoy it.” She patted the bed next to her.

  I got up and moved to the bed. She put her arm around me, just like she used to do when we hung out. “You don’t have to make any sacrifices yet. You’ll finish high school and college, working for the agency at times, if you want. With the right training and your talent for languages and accents, you’ll be able to slip into so many situations unnoticed. Like a chameleon. You’ll be able to get information for us. You’ll learn how to protect yourself, and you’ll have back up.”

  I wouldn’t have been me if I’d known how to turn down a challenge. And Christie was right. It did sound like fun. “Okay, so I go to school this week and pretend I’m moving here. Am I going to be wired with a camera and recorder?”

  “Oh yeah,” she said. “The most important piece of equipment is new padded bras. I got you some.” She stood and went over to the dresser.

  “Padded bras?” She’s kidding, right?

  She rummaged in the drawer and pulled out a handful of bras. “They’re necessary for the mission.”

  She handed me a bra and I studied it. I usually wore sports bras or flimsy little lacy ones. These looked like serious business. “Are you saying that I need bigger boobs if I’m going to be a spy?”

  Her eyes widened in horror. “No. Not at all. We just need the extra room for the tracking devices, unless you want them implanted in your skin. It’s up to you.”

  I shuddered. “No way. Will I be wired for sound?”

  “Sort of. I’ve got a contact lens for you to wear. That takes care of the video and a support unit for sound.”

  “You know my bra size and have my contact lens prescription.” I cringed and set the bra on the bed. “I hope other people can’t get private stuff like that easily.”

  “Most can’t. Some can.”

  Not making me feel better. “How can a whole video camera fit in a contact lens?”