“Yes.”
It’s finally sinking in for her.
“Drugs, guns…” She takes a cigarette out of her little box. She only smokes when she’s anxious or stressed. She’s finally getting it. “…and two men held hostage in your client’s home.”
“Yes, and I’m telling you to protect the company. One of them grabbed me. Held me there against my will. I should have told you yesterday, but I was confused.”
She clicks the gear to her lighter, a flame igniting, but takes her thumb away, and it disappears. “Someone grabbed you?”
“Yes.” Why does she keep echoing me? Is it that unbelievable?
“Why?”
“After one of them pulled a gun on the man they’re holding hostage there, I tried to get out, but they wouldn’t let me.” My chin quivers, and I wrap my arms over my chest, holding myself once more.
“They thought you were going to leave and report what you saw to me or the police.” She lights her cigarette, takes a puff, and a little cloud escapes her lips as she tucks the lighter back in the box.
I nod. “I’m not afraid, though. I’m ready to tell you everything I know, and then we can let the authorities know.”
She stands from her chair, behind her desk, and folds her arms over her chest too. “Is that so?”
I frown and take a step forward. Isn’t she listening? “It’s illegal. What they’re doing. Our association with them.”
She takes another puff of her cigarette and marvels at her view, the golden light from the sun creating contrasting light and shadow over the cityscape, taking her time with her thoughts.
I’m eager to call this in before the day is done.
“Do you want to work at this company?” Cathrine asks in a calm, emotionless voice.
How is that even a question? “Yes, of course I do.”
“Do you know what you’re paid to do here?” Her condescending tone is so off-putting, I can’t understand if she wants me to answer the question, so I stare, waiting for another cue. “You’re paid to assist me. To assist the company. The moment I gave you another responsibility, you forgot that.”
“No, Ms. Locke. I haven’t forgotten. I’m trying to protect the company.”
“We protect our clients. You focus on protecting the clients, mind your own business, and keep everything confidential.” She shakes her head and runs her fingers across her forehead with the cigarette wedged between them. “What’s so difficult to understand about that?”
“So, we… we’re okay with servicing drug dealers and—”
This can’t be right.
Cathrine holds up her hand again. “If you continue on like that, I’ll dismiss you right now.”
Dismiss. That’s what she’s been doing this whole time, but she means my job, doesn’t she?
Fern was right—she doesn’t want to hear it. Fern’s always right.
“I didn’t take you to be so naive, Josephine.” Her stare burns through me as my eyes tear up. “You’re being paid so much more to take care of the client. To keep their security needs as your number one priority. To keep their business confidential. You seem to be struggling with that, despite the multiple agreements you’ve signed, not to mention the client’s contract. The moment things got ugly—and understand, they can get ugly—you turned your back on the client and your agreement... and that means we can no longer have you here.”
She’s firing me?
“No. Please, Ms. Locke.”
“You’re not cut out for the business world.”
I’ve heard that from my high school guidance counselor, my aunt and uncle, teachers, even my sister, but I proved them all wrong. I’m here, and she doesn’t think I belong.
My chance at repaying the debt, supporting my family, all the hard work I’ve put in to get where I am, and it’s slipping away, out of my grasp. I can’t. The money, we need the money.
Say something. Anything. “I was confused. I just didn’t understand—”
She leans over the table, one hand on her hip. “But now you do?” She scoffs and takes another puff of her cigarette before striding to the bar cart and dropping it into one of the champagne flutes.
No. I don’t. I don’t know what to think or do, except I need this job. I need to repay the debt, or by next month, we’ll be out of the apartment, out of food, and in major legal trouble.
Tackman wanted to buy my silence, and I was above it, but it’s what my employers have been doing this whole time, and even more so now.
“There are things going on in that house that are wrong.” My voice trembles as I remember the fear in the hostage’s eye as the gun was aimed at him. “That I don’t know how to unsee.” I press my hand over my mouth and shake my head as the helpless feeling of being lifted off the ground comes rushing back. “I was scared. I need this job. I want this job. Please.”
“That’s why I’ve told you to mind your business.” She rounds the desk again and sits back in her seat. “What’s happening in that house was none of your concern. The security of that house was, and you’ve left the client feeling quite the opposite. And now you mean to violate client confidentiality?”
“No, I won’t.” I can’t believe I’m saying it.
I still have a choice, don’t I? I can still do the right thing. But what is right?
Debt repayment and taking care of my family or reporting Tackman and his dealings to the authorities and losing my job?
We can’t be homeless. I can’t lose everything I’ve worked for.
She pulls her laptop open and slides on a pair of glasses, focusing on the screen. “Your client still wants you on. It’s not his decision, but I’ll take it into consideration.”
That’s the impression he left me with. That I was still working for him. At least there’s that.
“Thank you.”
But if Tackman’s so concerned about me divulging his secrets, why would he still want me? I tried to run.
“I’ve never had this happen.” She looks up at me over the computer screen. “In the history of this business, no client has ever called in their concerns about one of our employees, from the security guards, to the technicians, and definitely not a project manager.” I open my mouth to speak, to apologize once again, as she continues, “But, this is an admittedly unusual circumstance.” So, she might have known about the drugs and guns, but not the men held hostage. “And, despite the client’s concerns, he’s willing to proceed with certain reassurances.”
A heavy pit forms in my stomach, its weight making me ache in anticipation of what’s to come.
“What do I need to do?”
“Before a decision can be made, you’ll need to meet with Mr. Locke, in his office, Monday morning. Don’t be late.”
I nod and turn to leave.
“And you’d better think long and hard about whether you should be here. Whether or not you want to be here, and why we should keep you on. You have those answers ready; you show him the Josephine I thought I knew when I decided to give you this opportunity, and you might get another chance.”
“Yes, Ms. Locke.” I turn to walk out.
“Oh, and Josephine?” She waits until I turn to face her to continue. “Never cross a Locke.”
I leave the office and turn around. Fern’s not behind her desk. She’s on the couch, and she pats the seat beside her.
I don’t want to sit. I want to go home, to bed, and curl up in a ball, but I join Fern on the couch on the opposite side. She turns her body in toward me. “You must never do that again,” she says in a hushed tone, folding her hands in her lap. “Your client could have had Cathrine as his case manager, but he didn’t want her. He wanted someone he thought he could trust. Have you ever lost trust in someone before, Josephine?”
I nod, wide-eyed, in some alternate universe where what just happened to me was my fault, and where this lecture seems appropriate. “Of course.”
I’ve never truly been able to trust anyone in my life, but losing trust i
n my position, in this company, in Cathrine after I’d gained her respect is a new, brutal kind of betrayal.
She nods too. “Terrible feeling, isn’t it? If just one client loses trust in us, it poisons the well.” I turn to her, and we lock eyes. “I know you feel hurt right now, but this is business, and a hard lesson that’s been a long time coming. Keep your emotions separate, keep your focus on the client’s security, and mind your business, Josephine. It’ll keep you safe.” She stands and walks back to her desk, and I rise from my seat in a daze.
She buzzes the door open for me, and I walk through, right to the elevator.
What have I done?
What do I do?
Chapter Ten
Rendezvous
I leave the building shaking and wait until I’m inside my car to call Katie. She tried to warn me. Maybe she can give me some more insight and help me work this out before my meeting with Orrick.
I tap her name and press the phone to my ear as it rings.
“Hello?” Her voice calms me.
I take a deep breath. “Katie. Hi.”
“Hey, Jo, what’s up?” I hear an echoing in her background.
“I need to talk for a sec. Do you have time?”
“I’m at The Twisted Olive. Just in the bathroom right now.” A pause and some muffled voices in the background follows. “Do you want to come and have a drink?”
Since Maggie moved in, I don’t drink anymore. I threw out my assortment of alcohol I kept in the apartment. I don’t even want her to smell it on me, but Katie doesn’t know that.
“I’m having—” a hard time. “What we were talking about last night? Things have gotten… worse.”
“Worse? What do you mean? You said everything was fine.”
“It’s not. It’s bad.” More voices in her background drown out my voice.
“Hey,” she raises her volume, “how about you pick me up and drive me home? I got a ride with Pam, but it would be great if you could be my DD.”
Maybe she can hear the desperation in my voice. “Is now okay?”
“Yeah, I’ll be waiting out front.”
I breathe a sigh of relief. “See you soon.” I end the call, toss the phone in my purse, and head out of the lot.
What am I going to say? What do I really want from her?
I want to know what she’s seen. She said things were bad, and I believe her now, but I don’t believe the company lets these things happen all the time. How could they work with people like Tackman without worrying about the blowback on them? Without worrying that if they got caught in a scandal or illegal activity, how it could affect their other high-profile clients. Destroy their reputation.
Even for self-preservation as a business, this can’t go on all the time. Cathrine said this was an unusual situation. Maybe it only happens once in a while—that Locke Industries knows of, because it’s true, we mind our own business.
That’s what I’m being paid to do. Take care of the client. Mind my business.
And why did Tackman specifically tell her he wanted me to stay on? He called her, and I’ll never know what he said.
I pull up in front of the bar, and Katie’s talking to another girl I don’t recognize outside the door beside a bouncer. She spots me, waves goodbye to the girl, and jogs over to my car.
“Hey,” she says, getting in with a smile. “Thanks.”
“No problem.”
After she clicks on her seatbelt, I pull away from the curb, and we drive in silence, staring at the last of the pink sky through the windshield as it fades away into the dark blue of early evening. I reach my hand out to turn on the music, but she speaks.
“You can’t talk to me about work like that over the phone.”
“Why? Do you think they’re listening?”
“I honestly don’t know, but I don’t want to find out.” She shifts to turn in my direction. “What’s going on, Jo?”
“There are things I can’t say because of client confidentiality, but I was almost fired today.”
“What?”
“I want to know what you know. About the company. About the bad things you were talking about.”
“I signed the same confidentiality contracts you have. Maybe more. I can’t discuss it either, but I’ve seen enough to worry something would happen. Are you okay?”
Tears slide down my cheeks as her caring voice allows me to break. I grip the wheel tight, embarrassed she’s seeing me cry for the first time, but I can’t help it. I choke back my tears and try to swallow down the lump in my throat. “You wouldn’t believe the day I’ve had,” I choke out, shaking my head.
“Oh, Jo, what happened?”
I squeeze the steering wheel again, steeling myself as I remember the man running down the hall into the foyer, and Carver taking out his gun. I want to leave. I didn’t even think about the threat I was to them. I just wanted out.
What would have happened if Tackman hadn’t told him to stop? “I’m still shaken up. I—I told Cathrine everything, and she practically blamed me for what happened. She said I shouldn’t have—done what I did.” I shake my head and roll down the window, letting the fresh night air soothe my hot cheeks.
Without being able to tell Katie everything, it’s pointless to even talk about it at all.
I click my signal to turn onto her street, but she points ahead. “Let’s go to a drive-through.”
“You’re hungry?” I scoff.
“I have a craving for chicken fingers and fries. I always do when I’ve had a few beers.”
I continue straight, and she turns to the window. Is she trying to avoid the conversation? Is she scared she might say too much like I am? Walking on eggshells with her makes me sick.
If I could just tell her everything, even if she just believed me, told me I’m not crazy for how I reacted—how I feel… But I can’t put her in danger.
“Katie, can you please tell me, do these bad things you hinted at happen a lot? Are they a regular occurrence with the company?”
She rubs her palms on her dress pants, still staring out the window away from me.
“Are we working for bad people?”
She rubs her temple and stares straight ahead.
“I don’t want to play a guessing game. Can you tell me what I should know about Locke Industries?”
“They’re powerful and dangerous, but you already knew that.”
“You know way more than I do.”
“Then listen to what I’ve been trying to tell you and let them fire you.”
“Are you scared of them?” I ask. “Because I was scared today, of losing my job, and of what this company is really into, but I was most scared at the client’s home for their installation.”
“What happened?”
“You know I can’t tell you.”
I turn onto a side street, and a glowing neon sign appears in the distance.
She points ahead. “Yellow Dip, okay?”
“Yeah, fine, whatever, but you didn’t answer me. Are you scared of them?”
She tugs at one of her tight ringlets in her ponytail and avoids my glances. “Like I told you last night, I want to leave as soon as possible. As soon as John proposes, I’ll give my two weeks’ notice.”
“So, you’re not okay with what they do?”
She lets out a heavy huff of incredulous laughter. “I’m not okay with what I do.”
“So why do you stay?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Leaving?”
She rubs her forehead and rests her head against the back of her seat with a deep sigh. “I see a lot of bad things, but I also stop a lot of bad things from happening.”
“To the clients?”
She nods. “When I see something going on, I contact the client and their contact with our company. If they don’t respond, or if they do and agree, I dispatch one of our security units to the premises. It’s checks and balances. I’ve seen some bad I’ve been able to stop. Bad that could have
been worse. It’s how I’m able to stay there. It’s not where I want to be, but as long as I do my job well, I’m taken care of. You know it’s just me when John’s not here, and since he hasn’t proposed, I have no assurances of our future. I have to take care of myself.”
I pull into the drive-through and roll my window down while she calls out her order to the screen.
We have more in common than she knows, and she’d know more if I opened up to her about my situation, but I can’t risk her sympathy or judgment ruining our friendship.
It ruined all my friendships as a kid when our parents died. Kids either judged them for being addicts, or they didn’t know how to be with us anymore. The pity was unbearable. People have a hard time with uncomfortable situations, and I don’t want to put Katie in the position where she knows so much about me and is unable to handle it.
Once we’re at the next window, she leans over the seat. “Hey, is Billy working tonight?”
“Yeah,” the teen girl says and turns around. “Billy!”
“Who’s Billy?”
He steps up to the window, and the curiosity on his faces twists into shock.
“Meet us out back,” Katie tells him, and he steps back slowly as the girl hands us a brown paper bag. “Thanks!”
The window closes, and Katie points to the back of the lot by a dumpster.
“What’s going on?”
“Just park back there.”
I drive around the Yellow Dip and park by the dumpster. “Katie, this is so sketchy.”
“Why’d you really want to talk?” she asks. “If you can’t tell me what’s going on, what can I do? I tried to warn you, but you didn’t want to hear it.”
I didn’t. I didn’t want to believe the company I believe in could be involved with people like Tackman. I didn’t want to believe I’d allow myself to stay involved, but I’m supposed to meet with Locke tomorrow and beg for a job I’m not even sure I believe in anymore.
“I think working in your position could be dangerous,” Katie says as we turn to each other. “I don’t want you getting tangled up in it. Is it the money? Is that why you want to stay?”
The Assistant's Secret Page 8
