by M. E. Carter
“That’s what makes this really hard. We don’t really know. The death threats have died down since the trial ended, but we still want the home to be monitored. Maybe onsite security. And for sure, we want cameras in the house.”
I hear some indistinct talking in the background. Assuming it’s Jenny, I make sure to phrase my questions carefully.
“All of those are really easy for us to do.”
“I know they’re easy. We’ve used them before,” Janet says sternly. I suspect she’s not annoyed as much as she just doesn’t trust what I’m telling her. And why would she? Her sister was manipulated by people for years to the point where it went to a massive public trial. She’s right to be leery. “But the company we’re using now leaked some pictures of Jennifer in her own house.” I bite back a gasp. “We need someone who is trustworthy, and I’ve got an attorney on retainer anytime that trust is broken now.”
Thinking quickly, I make a request that I hope doesn’t backfire.
“Is she there with you? In the room, I mean?”
Janet goes quiet, and I assume she’s trying to decide how to respond. Finally, we end up on the same page. “Yes.”
“Would she be willing to be on speaker so the three of us can talk at the same time?”
The phone muffles and I assume Janet is relaying my request. Carlos gestures in question and I nod. I’ve got this. I want this account so badly, and not because I enjoy my job. I want this account because I know we can make a difference for this woman.
“Okay, you’re on speakerphone.”
I give Carlos a thumbs up. He nods his approval and grabs his coffee cup again. I guess he’s confident I’ve got this covered.
“My name is Rian and I’m one of the account managers at Cipher Systems. Jenny, I know this is really hard on you, so I want to make this as painless as possible.”
“Please call me Jennifer. I don’t ever want to be known by that other name again,” a soft voice says back to me. She doesn’t sound at all like the strung-out porn star I saw on television. She sounds meeker and much more frightened.
“Absolutely. Jennifer it is. Janet explained a little bit about what you’re looking for, but I want to make sure we’re really sensitive to what you need. Let me ask you a question, did you ever see the movie Catch Me If You Can?”
Carlos looks at me quizzically. I just smile back at him and hold up my finger to give me a minute.
“The one with Leonardo DiCaprio?”
“That’s the one. His character is the best con artist in the country, probably the world. Part of the reason he’s so good at it is because the Feds are chasing him, so it’s a game. That’s the whole reason it’s exciting for him. Every day he gets to prove he’s better than the Feds.”
“I’m sorry, what does this have to do with getting my sister security?” Janet demands, and I have no doubt she’s rolling her eyes at me.
“Give me one second and you’ll see my point. Jennifer, do you remember that at the end of the movie, the FBI hires him to work for them, taking down other con artists?”
“Yeah. I remember that.”
“They didn’t change what he’s good at. They just changed the game. Now the goal is to be better than every other con artist out there. To beat them. In a way, we’ve done the same thing.”
“How so?” Janet again. I knew she’d see the connection quickly. Now I just need to convince them of why this is a good thing.
“We have a man here named Alex. He is arguably the world’s best hacker.”
“No, no, no,” Jennifer interrupts. “I don’t want a hacker to have access to cameras in my house.”
Janet immediately jumps into the conversation, and I listen quietly as she calms her sister down. When they’re finally quiet, I continue.
“Jennifer, I know you don’t trust anyone right now. You shouldn’t. But the reason Alex works here is because he changed the game. His goal now isn’t to hack into things. It’s to build firewalls so strong it keeps all the other hackers out. He gets to show them he’s the best by showing they’re not as good as he is.”
I know by the silence on the other end of the line that they’re thinking and probably communicating with eye contact alone.
“But how…” Jennifer’s voice cracks. “How do you know I can trust him?”
It’s a valid question. And I only have one answer for her.
“Because he’s married to a psychiatrist who works with trauma victims every day. If anyone will put in his all to make sure no one can ever get to you like that again, it’s Alex.”
Carlos pushes off my desk and walks away. I assume that means he thinks I’ve got this under control, which is quite a compliment. Or he’s typing up my pink slip right now. Either way, I’m happy to give this woman back a little bit of her stolen dignity.
“And, Jennifer, I need you to know something else,” I continue. “All of your information is confidential. On a professional level, we strive to give you the kind of security you need to feel confident that you can let your guard down in your own home. That you have a safe space. But on a personal level, these are some of the best people I’ve ever worked with. You aren’t a client. You’re a person. And you will be treated with respect whether we’re on the phone with you or just monitoring your account.”
A soft sniffle comes through the speaker and I know I’ve hit my mark. Not as the account manager talking to a prospective client, but as a human being talking to another human being.
“Okay,” Jennifer finally says. “I’m still learning about how to do my bills and stuff. I wasn’t really old enough to have it mastered yet when… well, you know. So, my sister will be your point of contact.”
“That’s not going to work for me.” The words blurt out before I can stop them. I don’t know why this is important, but something just tugs at me. The gasp I hear, though, makes me realize that came out wrong. “That’s not what I meant. Sorry.” I chuckle lightly. “I got ahead of myself. I do that when I’m excited to help a client.” They make sounds of relief on the other end. “What I meant to say is, I’d like to be the point of contact for both of you. This is about making you feel secure, Jennifer. So, let’s just make it a point to have all three of us on these conversations.”
“But it’s just faster if she does it.”
“Faster, sure. But you’re working hard to learn all about this stuff. The least I can do is make sure you’re in the loop, and I can answer any questions you have.”
“Okay. Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
And it really is. Jennifer Johnson has been through a lot. As a result, she has insecurities that will take years to overcome, if she ever does. But here she is, stepping out of her comfort zone to make a better life for herself.
And damn if that doesn’t inspire me to do the same.
Chapter Twenty-Six
CARLOS
We’ve spent a couple nights this week on my couch. Well, not just the couch. Some of it has been spent eating at the breakfast bar. And there have been a few bathroom breaks here and there. But mostly, we’ve hung out and watched bad reality TV. It been the most fun I’ve had in a long time. Not because of the shows; they have been truly horrible. What’s made it fun is the company.
Rian has made me watch some bridal show and told me more about her sister’s wedding and how afraid she is that she’s going to resemble a tomato in her bridesmaid dress.
I’ve made her watch a business investment show and told her more about how I got involved with Quinn and ended up running half of Cipher Security Systems.
But our favorite has been a cooking competition. It’s led to her giving me recipes for cauliflower everything, which I’m still on the fence about.
We’ve laughed about stupid things and opened up about serious things. The conversation has never gotten too heavy, but we really are getting to know each other. It’s been exactly what I was hoping for. And for the first time ever, when she leaves, I’m oddly sad. Sure,
I get goodbye kisses that rival any makeout session I’d ever had. But once she’s gone, I miss the conversation and the connection. I miss her.
I can’t stop the questions that infiltrate my mind about how this is going to work in the office, but that doesn’t stop me from texting her all day every day. It’s just more of the same stuff…
What was your childhood like? Was it weird having your parents live in different houses?
Where did you go to college, and did you join a sorority?
What the hell is that bachelorette thinking wearing a tiara to the first meet-and-greet. Doesn’t she know that screams high maintenance?
It is a running, pleasant conversation, that blurs my nights right into my mornings, where others join in on our design show discussions. I don’t think I’ve ever talked to Nancy about shiplap before, but by the way her face lights up during the chats, I’d wager she has a nautical theme going on in her house.
The ease of the conversations and the ensuing laughter makes work pass by in a flash. The comradery is infectious, and everyone seems happier to be productive. Even Quinn stopping by doesn’t faze me anymore. And when we finally leave every day, it just seems part of a new normal routine that we both end up at Weight Expectations, where I am currently staring at her like the creeper that I am.
My new favorite pasttime is watching Rian work out. It’s hilarious. I don’t mean that in a bad way. I’m not kinnearing her so a picture can go viral. No, I’m laughing because the relationship she and Abel have is so funny.
I personally don’t use a trainer because I don’t need it for motivation purposes or to learn what exercises to do that will benefit me. But I’ve observed them for long enough to know how the trainers work. How can you not notice them? They’re hard to miss when they’re wearing the same basic outfit—black pants, black t-shirts with the gym logo on it, sometimes a black gym hoodie. They all have a different teaching style, which obviously draws in a variety of clients. But one thing is true for all of them. They like keeping their clients on their toes.
Some days, they’ll be using weights. Some days, they’ll be outside in the small yard tossing giant tires. But today, today Abel has pulled out the bags and boxing gloves.
“Whatcha watching?” I didn’t realize Nick was behind me, nor did I realize I’d been standing here watching for so long. But Rian is that entertaining.
Her class started out with just jabs, but Rian got bored and started dancing around the bag. Abel is clearly not pleased by her new fancy footwork, if his scowl is any indication.
“Rian.”
“Who?”
I gesture my head toward the scene in front of us. “Rian. She’s my new account manager. She’s giving Abel a run for his money right now.”
We continue to watch as she turns her jabs on Abel and his abs. At first, he backs away, but then she says something I can’t decipher and he’s back. She probably bet him some pushups or made a snark about not being a young pup anymore and his abs not holding up during a fight. Either way, he’s taking it like a champ. Eventually, she tires out and stands in front of him, hands on her hips and challenge in her eyes.
“She doesn’t seem like your type.” I forgot Nick was still standing there. Or maybe I just assumed he got bored and left.
Suddenly feeling defensive, I look over my shoulder and sneer at him. “And why would you say that?”
His pause tells me he’s taken aback, which he should be. My defenses are on heightened alert when it comes to Rian, and I don’t even know why. All I know is that he’d better tread lightly when it comes to her or we’re going to have a big problem.
“Slow your roll there, Hothead. I was gonna say because she’s not wearing any makeup or fancy workout clothes. And she seems friendly. Your type is plastic, made up, and one spoon short of a set.”
“Which didn’t stop you from setting me up with Marley.”
He waves me off. “Marley was an error in judgment. I was hoping you were becoming less vain. Obviously, my timing wasn’t off, since it appears you’ve turned a new leaf. I just picked the wrong woman to set you up with.”
Okay, fine. I’ll accept his comment even if I shrug it off. Whether or not Rian’s my type isn’t his business. Not when I don’t even know for sure if she’s my type yet. I mean, I hope so. But I haven’t done this before, so I have no idea how to gauge any of it. And part of me keeps wondering when someone else is going to catch her eye and she moves on.
Wait. The gym grapevine informed me Abel is now a single man. Maybe I need to be keeping a closer eye on this guy.
I watch with rapt attention, eyes narrowed now, as Abel points to the floor and she resists. Finally, after what appears to be an emotional charged spat, she gets down on her hands and knees.
I chuckle out loud when I realize she did, in fact, challenge him to pushups. And she lost.
“She’s cute, man.” Nick catches my attention again, and I realize I’m wasting workout time watching this very funny, very interesting woman. Not that anything to do with Rian is a waste of time, but Nick has flaked on me so many times lately, I better take advantage of him being here.
“I guess,” I finally say, lying down on the weight bench and adjusting my body underneath the bar.
Nick stands over me, ready to spot, and snickers. “You don’t guess anything. You like her. I can tell by the goofy grin on your face whenever you look at her.”
“So, what if I do?” Grunting, I push up the bar and move my feet so I can balance better. This conversation will be much more comfortable if I’m not just sitting idly by for it. Plus, if he says something that pisses me off, it’s safer for both of us if I have a hundred and fifty pounds of weights holding me back.
He gets in position behind the bar to spot me and shrugs. “So, go for it.”
Fifteen reps later, Nick helps me guide the bar back in place so I can sit up and get some clarification. “Can I ask you a question?” I ask as I wipe the towel down my face.
He situates himself under the bar. “Sure.”
“How come you’re still single?”
Before pushing up even once, Nick is sitting upright on the bench again. Looks like I accidentally gave him an out. “I guess I just haven’t found the right person yet.”
“How do you know?” He looks at me like he’s trying to figure out if I’m for real or if I’m yanking his chain. It’s wigging me out. “You know what?” I wave my hand in dismissal. “Forget it. I don’t wanna know. Lie down. You’re getting soft in the chest. You need to work harder.”
Nick doesn’t move a muscle except for his jaw, unfortunately for me. “First of all, my pecs are harder than one of these flat weights.” I roll my eyes at the exaggeration. “And second, I don’t want to forget it. You never get deep, which means you’re having some sort of existential crisis right now.”
“Ok, Oprah.” I pat the bench. “Talk show is over. Seriously. Lie down.”
“Nope. Listen. Relationships are complicated. People are complicated. The only way to know if someone is right for you is to keep being with them. Either the connection will get stronger, or it’ll fade away. Mine have always faded away.”
“That’s not actually helpful.”
He shrugs. “There’s no crystal ball with dating. Sometimes it works. Sometimes it doesn’t. But the journey is worth it if you’re putting in your all.”
Is it though? Is it worth it if you only get hurt in the end? Or if you end up hurting someone else?
But what if no one were to get hurt? I look over at Rian who is still powering through her pushups. Well, until she collapses to the floor, Abel laughing next to her.
“You want my opinion?” Nick says behind me. “Never mind. I know you do. That kickboxing cutie that you are still staring at isn’t your type. And that speaks volumes about how great she must be. You can’t help who you’re attracted to, but when it’s there, you can’t deny it either.”
I tear my eyes away from her. “Sounds like you ha
ve some experience with this topic.”
He grabs a drink, even though he hasn’t done anything yet except exercise his mouth. “Of not being able to control who you’re attracted to? Yeah, realizing you’re bi means realizing the heart wants what the heart wants. And sometimes there’s nothing you can do about it.”
I freeze. “You’re bi?”
Nick flashes me a grin. “You sound surprised.”
I am. But I’m also an insensitive dick who likes to jack with his friends, so I school my features and say the first thing that pops into my head. “I am.”
He freezes, and I can tell he’s had this conversation before. I’m guessing it hasn’t always gone well. “You got a problem with it?”
“Yeah, I do.” We both stand up and take menacing steps toward each other. I’m not worried though. I’ve got the upper hand on this one. “You’ve known me for how long? We’ve been working out together, using the locker room together for how long, and you haven’t hit on me yet. Am I not good enough for you?”
It takes a second for Nick to realize I’m fucking with him, but when he does, he throws his head back and barks out a laugh. When he finally pulls himself back together, he points at me and shakes his head. “You’re a dick. You seriously had me going.”
I shrug, still keeping up part of the act. “I’m hurt, man. I’m a vision of manhood, and you’ve never even looked at me as more than a friend.”
He shorts a laugh and adds a ten-pound weight to the bar. I do the same on the other side. “You’re a little too pompous for my taste.”
“What?” I put my hand over my heart and fake hurt. “I thought you were my friend.”
“It’s not you, it’s me.” I give him a pointed look at the cliché line. “We’re too much alike to make it work. I’ve got to be the prettiest one in a relationship, just like you. So lay your ass down on that bench and give me another fifteen.”
Narrowing my eyes, I say, “Sounds like a proposition.”
“You wish.” He stands up, walking behind the bench again. “Actually, I’m on call so you never know when my phone is gonna ring.”
