Trust Me, I'm Trouble (20 page)

He looks back at me. “
I’m
not what you expected, or NWI isn’t what you expected?”

I think about it before answering. “Actually, it’s my reaction I wasn’t expecting,” I say.

He studies me for a moment. I can see him weighing the wisdom of saying something. I wait him out. Either he’ll say it or he won’t.

“I know you’re running from something, Julep. All grifters are. I just want you to know that when you’re ready to run
to
something, I’m here to help you do that.”

“I—” I swallow hard, thinking of Yale and dreams lost and wish that I’d met this man a year ago. “Okay. Thanks.”

On the way back down the ramp, I try valiantly to force my objectivity back into place. Unfortunately, it’s like trying to fit a round peg into a cocktail dress. You could do it, but do you really want to? I hope Sam is having better luck on his end. I can’t seem to gain any traction with Duke directly. It’s like he’s exactly who he says he is or something.

By the time I get to the first floor, I’m settling into a nice funk over my ineptitude. But then I catch sight of the reception desk, or more specifically, the person standing in front of the reception desk. I casually turn around, avoiding sudden movement, and hide behind a giant ficus.

“Yes. I’m here to see Mr. Salinger,” says Victoria Febbi.

I
stay out of sight just long enough for Tori to walk up the first bend in the ramp to the next level. Then I spring out from behind the plant and start to follow her. I make it all of three steps before I hear Joseph calling me.

“Where do you think you’re going? We have another team-building activity after lunch.”

I groan inwardly. Why did he have to catch me
now
? Now when I’m so close to figuring out the connection between Bar63 and NWI. Although, if it’s another relaxation exercise, maybe I’ll get a nap out of it.

“I left my phone in Duke’s office.” He might buy it.

“The phone that’s there in your pocket, you mean?” he says, smirking at me.

“Oh,” I say, mentally cursing his advanced powers of observation. “I must have put it in my pocket without noticing.”

“Great, then there’s nothing preventing you from building some team with the rest of us.”

“You know, there is such a thing as being too enthusiastic.” I give up and walk over to him. I’ve lost Tori. For now. But at least I saw her. That confirms there’s a connection.

“It’s still your first week, grasshopper. You’re supposed to respect me or something.”

“I
know
that wasn’t in the job description. I’d have noticed that.”

We bat mild insults back and forth all the way to the intern pen. He’s a good guy, Joseph. I really hope he’s not evil.

Sadly for me, today’s team-building activity requires actual teamwork. I let Ackley take over, because that’s what everyone expects, and rule number 783 of grifting is, when you’re trying to blend in, never do what people least expect. It’s kind of an obvious rule, but you’d be surprised how many amateurs break it. I think it has something to do with the Texas-sized egos con artists are born with.

In any case, after Joseph calls time on the activity, I plead raging headache, which, sadly, is not entirely fictitious, and knock off early. I text Dani to come pick me up. As it turns out, she never left the neighborhood.

“You hung out in the pool hall across the street the whole day?” I ask when she opens the Chevelle’s passenger-side door for me.

“I am used to waiting for you,” she says, smiling. And is it my imagination, or are her eyes lingering on mine just a minute longer than usual? “If you moved any slower, I would have to get you a walker.” Definitely my imagination.

“Whatever, grandma. You’re the one who’s three whole years older. Practically Jurassic.”

“Where to today, Miss Daisy?” she asks.

“Oh, come on. How could you possibly know that reference?”

“I told you. I am used to waiting for you. You would not believe the movies I have seen on grainy televisions while sitting on uncomfortable barstools.”

I smile at her. I love the way she says
televisions
like that’s a thing anyone ever says anymore. “Can we go to your place?”

She stiffens slightly, her easy smile fading at the edges. “Why?”

I try to ignore that I noticed, because it’s easier to ignore that than to ignore that noticing it hurt. I look out the window and keep my voice neutral and disinterested. “It’s the only place you’ll take me that’s not Mike’s or NWI, and I need to talk to Sam and Murphy without Mike or Duke overhearing.”

“Oh,” she says. “All right.”

And now we’re back to awkward. Whatever. I refuse to participate in that. I pull my phone out and text Dani’s address to both Sam and Murphy. Murphy’s not doing anything but working for me this summer, and Sam has a break between afternoon and evening sessions.

“You are irritated with me,” she says. “Why?”

I sigh. “I’m not irritated with you. I have a headache.” I text Mike and Angela to let them know where I’m going, more because I want something to do that’s not talking to Dani than because I really feel the need to clue them in. It’s only two o’clock. I have hours before my five p.m. curfew. I can’t believe I have a five p.m. curfew.

Mercifully, it takes only about ten minutes to get to Dani’s apartment complex. I follow her up the stairs and wait, as told, on the landing while she inspects the nooks and crannies for bogeymen.

“All right,” she calls from the back.

I’m curious to see what her place is like. For grifters, scoping out someone’s living space is almost as good as reading their diary. Unfortunately for me, Dani’s apartment is depressingly impersonal. No art on the walls. Mismatched furniture. A couple of lamps. Empty pantry, with the exception of some condiments and a box of—gag—chamomile tea. Everything neat, despite the small space, mostly because she doesn’t have much to fill it. For her, it’s clearly just a place to sleep. Well, sleep and clean guns. There’s a dismantled Magnum on her kitchen table, which she’d probably been in the middle of cleaning before coming to get me this morning.

“Got any aspirin?” I ask as I tour the kitchen, opening the fridge to confirm that, yes, Dani pretty much survives on ketchup and iron will.

She brings me two white pills, and I chase them with a glass of tap water.

Sam and Murphy show up a minute or two later, Murphy carting both Bryn and Lily with him. I’m not surprised to see Bryn, but I’m shocked to see Lily. This is the second time I thought I’d chased her off for good only to have her reappear unexpectedly.

“What’s this about?” Sam asks.

“Ralph’s back,” I say, easing them all into the story.

“What?” Sam says, eyes wide. Of all of them, he’s the only one who ever actually met Ralph. “Is he okay? Where’s he been this whole time?”

“I’d like to say Tijuana, but I really have no idea.”

“How did you find him?” Murphy asks. “We’ve been looking for months without a blip.”

“He found me, actually.” Then I launch into the whole sordid tale. Bryn gasps and Lily visibly pales when I get to the part about the quarry. Sam doesn’t say anything, but his expression isn’t something I’d want to face alone in an alley at night.

“Jesus, Julep,” Murphy says. “What are we even doing here? You should be at Agent Ramirez’s house on lockdown until he finds this guy.”

“See?” Dani says to me. “Everyone thinks it.”

“I don’t think it,” Sam says, his voice low and grave. “It’s pretty unlikely Mike will find whoever’s behind this when you couldn’t,” he says to Dani. “The best way to resolve this is to use Julep as bait. Just like the NWI scam.”

I beam at him. He gets it. He knows what it takes and he’s willing to make the hard choices. I’m going to have to double his salary. I can afford it, too, since his salary is zero and zero doubled is still zero.

“You are both insane,” Dani says. “Thank god Ramirez is on my side.”

So then I tell them about my stupid new schedule.

“I guess that means you’re out for the party at Val’s house this weekend,” Bryn says. “And I was so looking forward to watching you swindle her drunken jerk of an older brother again.”

“Yeah, I probably wasn’t going to that party anyway,” I say.

“So no one’s found the person who put the contract out on you yet?” Lily asks.

“Not yet,” I say. “Dani even asked Petrov. He knew something, but it’s irrelevant now. We’re back to square one.”

“No other leads?” Lily says.

I’m about to answer in the negative, when Dani interrupts me. “I have an idea of someone else to ask,” she says. At my questioning look, she continues, “An old friend with more connections than me.”

I file that little tidbit away for later delving. But first, I need reports.

“Sam, any luck from the initiate side of things?”

He studies me for a moment before answering. “Nothing yet.”

“Well, I saw our old friend Victoria Febbi today at the NWI reception desk, asking to see Duke. Maybe you could find out what that was about?”

“I’ll try,” he says. “I don’t have nearly as much access to Salinger as you do, though. It’ll take me a little time.”

“What about you, Murphy? Anything new?”

“Nothing on the Bar63 angle. I couldn’t find anything in relation to Victoria Febbi besides what I found for the Italian actress. It’s like she didn’t exist until she started working at the bar.”

“That’s telling in its own way. Keep digging for now. Lily, do you even still work for me?”

She hesitates for a split second, then nods.

“I’m putting you on Sister Rasmussen detail. See if you can find out why she was trying so hard to steer me away from NWI. She may know something useful.”

“Okay,” she says. “I’ll work on it.”

I regard the group as a whole. “So no one has anything? Really?”

“You say that like you’ve found anything,” Murphy points out.

“Actually, I may have.” I tell them the details of my visit to Mr. Antolini.

“Numbers?” Sam says. “Did you write them down?”

“Yeah, but I don’t have them on me. I’ll text them to you when I get back to the Ramirezes’. Anything you guys find out, anything you think of, even if you think it’s nothing, call me immediately—I don’t care what time of day or night it is. We need to end this sooner rather than later.”

“Don’t say, ‘Because there might not be a later,’ ” Murphy says, and Bryn heaves an exaggerated sigh. “I’m just saying it would be really cheesy.”

I massage my aching temples. “All right, class dismissed.” Everyone gets up to leave. “Except you, Dani. I want to hear more about this lead.”

• • •

“I can’t believe I actually suggested a five p.m. curfew. What the hell was I thinking?” I check my phone again to make sure there’s still time. We have about forty-five minutes before I’m officially late.

Dani doesn’t say anything, but she gives me that fond, resigned smile she reserves only for me.

“Corn nut?” I say, offering her the bag.

She shakes her head. I pop another couple in my mouth and crush them between my molars. I sometimes pretend they’re the bones of my enemies. That’s not weird, is it?

“What are you going to do about the bartender?” Dani asks.

“Finally, she talks.”

She gives me a sour look, but we’ve been staking out this Chinese restaurant for the last half hour, and she’s said maybe five words to me.

“I cannot talk and listen at the same time,” she says.

“Wow, Dani. Was that a subtle dig at my verbosity? I must say I’m impressed.”

“Take your feet off the dashboard of my car. I just washed it.”

I pat the Chevelle’s door. “It loves when I put my feet up. It wants me to be comfortable.”

Dani sighs. “Well, I want you to be paying attention. We are not sitting here for our health.”

“You’re sure this guy you’re looking for eats here?”

“Yes.”

“What’s his name again?”

“
Her
name is Han.”

I put my feet down. “You didn’t say your friend was a woman.”

“Does it matter?”

“No.” Maybe. “How do you know her?”

Dani arches an eyebrow. “Enforcers Anonymous. Stop asking questions.”

“Well, if you’re such great friends, why are we stalking her instead of just calling her?”

“We had a falling out.”

“About what?”

Dani rubs her forehead. “You are like a puppy. An annoying, yappy puppy.”

“Would it really kill you to just tell me stuff I want to know?”

“Fine. What ‘stuff’ do you want to know?”

“Were you dating Han?”

She hesitates. “Yes.”

“Ha!” I crow in triumph that I don’t really feel. “And it ended badly?” I’m hoping it ended badly.

Dani sighs heavily. “Yes. It ended badly.”

“Why?”

She’s not looking at me directly, and she’s fidgeting. “She asked me if I loved her, and I said no.”

Ouch. I suddenly don’t envy the woman so much. “How long were you together?”

“Almost two years.”

“Jeez,” I say, aghast. “And you didn’t love her at all?”

Dani’s hands go still on the wheel. “I thought I did, but then I realized I did not. Is it really necessary for you to know all this?”