“Are you fucking listening to what I’m saying? I don’t give a good goddamn how much it costs. Get it done, and don’t make it look like I have anything to do with it.” Sofia Madison’s disembodied voice sounded as if she was trying to downplay her anger, but she was failing miserably.
What Sofia was asking for was something Reed Gable totally understood. She wasn’t the first woman to request the exact same thing once the reality dawned that her marriage was a total sham. Some people made mistakes, but Sofia’s husband had more women than an old sultan with a harem. A feat he seemed pretty pleased about, from what Reed could tell. “It’s ten percent of the total. Are you sure about that?”
“He’s probably going to offer me less than a percent of the fucking total in a divorce,” Sofia said, going from angry to exasperated. “You think ten percent is going to bother me?”
“I need a few days to figure out a timeline, and I’ll get back to you.” Reed stood in the den of her home in Henderson, Nevada, and gazed out at the empty golf course beyond the pool. It was incredibly early, so the hardcore golfers weren’t out yet. The house had plenty of space between the two neighboring properties and was exactly like all the other houses on her private street. That was the main thing she loved about the place. It didn’t stand out. Homogenous wasn’t a dirty word in her world.
“I want to meet.” Sofia tried again. Like a forgetful old codger, she’d asked for this every time they’d spoken.
“It’s your right to insist, but if you can’t proceed without that, you need to find someone else.” She hung up and tapped the burner phone against her chin. There was another contract offer she was considering, but she’d put them off because Sofia’s job was more of a challenge. It might be time to give them a callback.
“Fuck it. Not my problem, and hopefully she’ll be okay with getting screwed in the divorce.” The phone rang before she could remove the SIM card and destroy it, so she took a moment before answering to watch the first golfers of the morning playing by the fourteenth hole. She found the sport boring, and it seemed aggravating, if all the cursing she heard was any indication.
“How do I know you’re not a cop?” Sofia asked without preamble.
“You don’t, and you can choose not to believe me, but I’m not. I’m willing to help you, but meeting people isn’t my thing. What you’re asking for is something you might not be able to do without laying eyes on me, and I understand that. If you decide this isn’t something you can stomach, this conversation will never come back to haunt you. On that you have my word.”
The problem with most people was that they were too emotionally invested even when they declared loudly and repeatedly that they weren’t. Emotions, or more precisely an overabundance of them, weren’t Reed’s problem. She patiently waited for Sofia to either talk herself in, or out, of what she was asking—that wasn’t Reed’s job.
She stared at the guy whacking away in the sand trap and figured his time would be better spent gardening. At least at the end he’d have something to show for it. By the time the ball had rolled into the tall grass, Sofia seemed to have come up with more to say, and she kept on rambling. Reed sighed away from the phone; this was by far the most aggravating part of the job, and she rolled her shoulders to try and relax. Long, unproductive conversations had a way of tensing her up more than the actual job.
“I gave Victor my word, as well as everything else, including our children. He turned them against me first. My sons want nothing to do with me because their father has told them repeatedly I’m a bitch who’s fucking crazy.” Sofia stopped and took a deep breath. “All I wanted was a faithful husband, but when I complained too much when he slept with half the women in this town, he started stripping away the life I’ve enjoyed and the things I love about it.” Sofia’s voice finally softened and she sounded like a woman set adrift in a sea of uncertainty.
“Has he contacted an attorney that you know of?” An impending divorce was the fastest way to an impending police investigation, and that’s not what her client needed. She promised quick and easy closure, and that’s what she’d deliver.
“Unless he went behind my back, no.” Sofia sounded sure, but she’d droned on at first about how solid her marriage was, saying she just wanted to make totally sure. But that had been a month ago.
The fantasy world Sofia had existed in for so long was destroyed after Reed had followed Victor for two days. All Sofia had wanted at first was to convince herself the rumors about Victor weren’t true. That simple plan had turned on the proverbial dime when the truth was staring at her in nice glossy pictures.
“Do you want me to find out?”
Reed wondered if the golfer trying to put his little ball in the hole knew his pants had torn down the seam, showing his dingy tighty-whities. The lesson from this little story was: become a better golfer and avoid sand traps if your pants are at least a size too small.
“All I need you to do is tell Victor and your kids you’re going to New York to spend time with your family. Once you’re out of town, turn your phone off and relax. Don’t complain about Victor or your sons to anyone, but answer the inevitable questions of why you’re there with you needed a break before you came back to work on your marriage. Do not raise any questions with Victor or anyone else about divorce. You don’t want that in someone’s memory when the cops start asking questions.”
“You know who my father is, right? He’ll never believe that I’m in New York for a break, and I don’t want him blamed.”
“Your family has its favorite personnel for jobs like this, and none of them are in Vegas. Forget about me and everything we’ve talked about. That is, if you’re sure. Once this call is over, there’s no going back. This number won’t be available, and I’ll be in touch like before.” Once the job was done, Sofia would use the burner phone she’d have delivered by courier and they’d finalize things.
There was only a moment of hesitation. “Promise me you’ll humiliate him as much as he has me.”
“I’ll do my best. You have fun in the city, and once things are done, answer the phone you’ll get as a gift. Destroy the one you’re using now somewhere not near your home or the airport. If you decide to keep it and you get caught, you’re on your own.”
“When do you want me to leave?” Sofia asked, not sounding as upset.
“Today,” she said. A little space from his wife would deny Victor the chance to do something not in his usual routine she couldn’t overcome. She’d been following him for a month and he was a shit bag, but a fairly consistent shit bag. “Depending on what’s going on, I might be done in the next couple of weeks, so try to be on the next plane to solidify your alibi.”
Reed hung up, trashed her phone, and grabbed her overnight bag. It was still early, but she needed to make a trip to one of the buildings she owned. The money she’d made was mostly invested in ways that would take time and effort to trace back to her, and she’d made enough of it to retire and not have to deal with the Sofias of the world.
Anonymity from her clients and the world was something she’d learned coming up the ranks, and it was a solid way to keep her freedom. Retirement, though, wouldn’t come until the game lost its allure, so she’d keep at it and continue to diversify her investments.
A big portion of her real estate portfolio was made up of strip malls and warehouses, which weren’t huge moneymakers, but like everything she did outside of work, they were safe bets. The small place on the way to Red Rock Canyon was being rented by a lawn maintenance company, and one of the only ones she’d had built. The young guy who leased from her had no idea what was right under his feet.
The ministorage next door was another spot she’d constructed, and the car in the middle unit had Georgia plates from her last job, so she switched them for Oregon ones and placed the proper paperwork in the glove compartment on the off chance she got stopped. She then went through the opening in the false back wall of the unit and took the steps to the tunnel that led next door. It was the only way into the basement of the warehouse.
It took an hour in her little studio, but when Reed was done, her dark hair, blue eyes, and slim waist were gone. The image in the mirror was a blond scruffy-faced man with a prominent paunch—totally believable as an accountant from a small town in Oregon.
“Hopefully you were serious, Sofia.” She put on the glasses and combed her hair to the side. “Victor’s about to lose big.”
* * *
“Would you have a problem working after-hours every so often?” Dean Jasper, the accounting manager at the Moroccan Casino, asked Brinley Myers.
Brinley was still settling into her apartment in Las Vegas, but the opportunity her neighbor had told her about was too good to pass up, even if she wasn’t quite ready. That was, if she could actually get hired. Vegas, she was starting to understand, was all about the Strip to some people, but there was more to a casino than the actual gambling. This job was pretty much a nine-to-five gig with awesome benefits and salary, and she’d probably never see the gaming floor.
“As long as you give me a heads-up so I can arrange a sitter,” Brinley said and nodded for more emphasis. This job paid almost three times the one she’d left in New Orleans, and considering that had been in her mom’s firm, this was a sweet deal.
“You have children?”
Dean’s question made her wonder if that was going to be the thing that sank her chances. “Only one.” She held her finger up and smiled. Finn was her reason for the move.
A fresh start seemed in order after the biggest mistake of her life had been convicted of drug trafficking and would be a guest of the State of Louisiana penitentiary for the next thirty-eight years. Being incarcerated should have stopped the loser’s demands about Finn, but no such luck. A collect call seemed to come every few days, and the more she declined, the more persistent the idiot got.
“My son Finn—he just turned one.”
“Here.” Dean took a card out of his top drawer. “This is the day care I use for unexpected work stuff, unless you have someone set up. They’re really good, and they have those cameras throughout the place, so you can check in on him if you want. They’re open twenty-four-seven and will accommodate last-minute stuff. My kids love it.”
“Thanks.” She placed the card in her wallet and took it as a good sign. “Do you have any more questions for me?”
“Can you start Monday?” Dean closed the folder in front of him and held his hand out.
“Thank you, and yes.” She shook his hand and stood. “I really appreciate the opportunity.”
“I think you’ll be a great fit, so I’ll hand you over to Naomi Williams. She’ll navigate you through HR, and she’ll also be your office mate.” Dean picked up his phone, and a few minutes later a beautiful African American woman with a pencil stuck behind her ear entered and waved her out.
“Nice to meet you,” Naomi said as they headed for the elevator, “but please tell me you’re not a Republican religious nut with a sequined pin of Mitch McConnell hidden away in your underwear drawer.” Brinley couldn’t be sure, but Naomi sounded totally serious.
“No way.” The inside of the car was completely mirrored, like some throwback seventies decorating, and the lighting made her skin wash out against her blond hair, even with the red highlights. Her coloring was a combination of her parents’, and her green eyes were something both her mom and dad had in common, at least according to her mother. Her father was someone she didn’t remember, and he’d never been a part of her life. She didn’t feel the lack of his presence, except for moments when she saw something in herself she supposedly got from him. “It’s a George W. Bush pin or nothing.”
“Jesus Christ, I hope you’re joking. Being stuck in our box of an office with that last woman was like spending my days trapped with Jerry Falwell. She thought my soul was beyond saving, but that didn’t stop her from going on and on about it. The old bitch finally got fired when she hosed me down with holy water.”
“You’re kidding, right?”
“I have a silk blouse with water stains to prove it, so no, not kidding.”
“I doubt you’re that far gone, and no to the rest of your list. With a one-year-old, I never have time to watch the news, much less join a religious cult.” They entered the second floor where HR and the security center of the casino took up the entire space. “Wow, that’s a lot of cameras.”
“Don’t believe the commercial, girl. What happens in Vegas is filmed for eternity, and if you try to pocket a chip that doesn’t belong to you, one of these goons will break your fingers.” Naomi stayed with her as she got her paperwork done and they issued her an ID badge. “Here’s my phone number. Call me if you need something, and I’ll see you Monday. Maybe your little one will eventually be interested in a playdate with mine.”
“That’d be great. Do you have a boy or girl?”
“Amelia’s two and a handful.” They shared pictures as they headed to the employee lot so Brinley would know where it was. “Your badge will get you in, and all you need to do is pick the first spot that doesn’t have someone’s name on it.”
“Thanks for all your help,” she said taking Naomi’s hand. “I have a feeling you’re going to make this fun.”
“Thank the gods Dean wised up this time. The job is boring—accounting, after all—but the town’s a blast. If our kids like each other, maybe we can split a sitter and go out some time.” Naomi gave her a one-armed hug, and it made Brinley feel good about her decision to interview. “It’ll be nice to have a new friend to blow off steam with. See you at nine on Monday.”
“I’ll be here.” She walked back toward the entrance where they’d valeted her car at Dean’s insistence. “Well, Brinley, this will certainly be different,” she whispered to herself when she handed her ticket over.
All the mistakes she’d made over the last three years had played in an unending loop in her mind as she’d driven west, and she was ready to stop binge-watching. The woman she’d been totally committed to had broken her heart, but that had been no reason to completely upend her life with massive changes. Not that one night of heavy drinking and then sleeping with a loser was completely upending your life, but the residuals that had come from that experience had sent her down a different path.
Her ex had taught her that a woman could be a bitch. The kind of bitch who would not only sleep with a couple of your friends but mention a few things she didn’t like about your body on the way out the door with your luggage because the bitch didn’t own any.
That delightful rundown of all her shortcomings, combined with way too much alcohol and betrayal, had made her think jumping the fence back to men was a genius idea, and she’d ended up in bed with the tweaker Jarrell. But—and there was a big-ass but in this story—there were mistakes like putting the Hubble telescope into space with the lens in backward, and then there was Jarrell. Granted, she had Finn, and she wouldn’t trade him for anything, but Jarrell had latched on after he found out she was pregnant and convinced himself it was his.
Finn was hers, and she put father unknown on his birth certificate, not wanting Jarrell anywhere near either her or her son, but that’d been wishful thinking. That hadn’t stopped the unending calls, and she’d had enough. One night of bad sex shouldn’t have been an invitation to have to deal with Jarrell and his family for the rest of her life.
“This isn’t exactly the quiet town I was going for, but it’s a great place to get lost in.”