Chapter 16

 

 

Cody sat in his cubicle, keeping his head down. There was a ripple of something going on. He’d received two calls from upstairs, which he ignored. It wasn’t as if he needed this job—he’d rather be back with Amber, having a great time. Sure, the Paris gig had been fun but he knew it was the short con part of the long con. Ever since he’d come back to the States and talked with Pop, he’d been thinking of ways to twist this thing so he could join her instead of sitting here.

But, he couldn’t quit the job too soon. The whole thing about being a successful con man, according to his dad, was to get in and out without even being suspected. Omni might have caught on to his having been behind the scenes in their website, beefing up his profile for Amber’s benefit. Or maybe someone had guessed that his summer internship had technically ended months ago, so what was he still doing here? Most likely that’s what the HR calls were about.

Still, better to be slippery than to get pinned down into answering questions. Only in his most private hours would Cody admit to himself that he was nowhere near the smooth operator that his dad was. He was a lot more comfortable at a computer keyboard than facing down an accuser and talking his way out of it. Woody would be disappointed that his chip off the old block was more of a fragment.

The intercom light on his phone flashed. Damn thing. He’d quickly figured out how to silence the buzzing on the stupid desk phone, but the flashing light always set him off. He took off his headset and logged off his terminal. He would claim needing a bathroom break. Let the caller leave a message.

Another message.

He left his cubicle and meandered toward the men’s room. The 14^th floor was such a sham. Technically, it was the thirteenth but buildings never had a numbered 13^th floor. As such, it was the short-term hires who got stuck here. Would it kill them to paint the walls something other than dead tan, or replace the worn, unmatched cubicle dividers that had probably already done primary duty in better departments in their early years?

Shoving his shoulder against the restroom door, his critical eye took in this space as well. Beat-up tile and grout that had never been cleaned in its life. Two other guys stood at the urinals so he closed himself into a stall.

It wouldn’t hurt to make some friends at work, he’d told himself. But then Woody’s voice would intrude. “Don’t take up with drinking buddies—ever. One day you’ll have a little too much and you’ll spill the beans. You gotta keep to yourself when you’re around the same bunch of guys every day.”

So he did. He heard a flush, water running in the sink, two paper towels being yanked from the dispenser. A second flush. Eventually the door whooshed open and shut twice. He peered out and saw the room was empty, so he peed, even though he really didn’t need to. At least the stupid phone should have quit ringing by the time he got back to his cube.

He flopped into his chair again and thought back to Paris. A sigh.

With a furtive look around, he picked up his cell phone, connected to one of several virtual hotspots he’d created, and logged on to one of the foreign accounts. It was tempting to pull some more cash out. There was a hazy dream of getting back together with Amber and taking her someplace cool. Maybe with some of the money in the London bank they’d stay in a swanky hotel and have room service every day for a month. The French account was a little hot right now—it was from there that he’d pulled the hundred grand to send back to the States. But once things cooled off a little, he could grab some more and take her on a fabulous winter vacation to the Med, spend time on the Cote d’Azur or someplace like that.

Who would have thought—little Cody Baker from Jersey, hanging with the rich and famous. All it would take was a bit of research and putting on the Cody Brennan persona again. A smile settled on his face.