Chapter 5: Chapter Five

I didn’t meet Lucinda Nicks in flesh and blood—at least what I assumed was flesh and blood—until Friday afternoon. The moment a security guard spotted her black Mercedes entering the parking lot, Maggie’s phone rang with confirmation. In thirty seconds, she transformed from agitated but focused coworker to polished executive assistant.

She kicked off her sneakers and slipped her feet into towering heels under her desk. Reading glasses came off, blazer went on. After smoothing her hair, she refreshed her lipstick perfectly without the aid of a mirror, then grabbed a tablet and a stack of messages. She stood and focused on me. “Straighten your coat. Shoulders back. Don’t let her see your fear.”

Fear, HA! I hadn’t been afraid since the seventh-grade soccer tournament when I had pneumonia and we were two points away from winning state. (We won, of course, right before I collapsed.) And maybe, just maybe, for the first few minutes after the car accident. While an impressive woman, Lucinda didn’t strike fear into my heart.

Maggie nodded toward the hallway. “When she comes in, we close the outside door. She’s a celebrity around here and everyone wants in on her business. We protect her business over everything else.”

Glancing out in the hall, I noticed all the hurrying people slowed to a reasonable gait, then slowed even more in front of the office, peering in. “Got it.”

A woman holding an open laptop in one hand and a Thinner shake in the other rapped on the office doorjamb with her shoe. “She in?” (5’4”, same slender build as other Thinner members, custom pantsuit and professionally blown-out hair. Risk assessment: threat to wallet but not to me.)

I’d known Maggie to be overwhelmed, worried, and super focused, but never annoyed. The twitch of her eyebrow and the flex of her jaw gave her away. She tilted her head and put on a sugar-sweet smile. “She’s just now arriving. My priority is to introduce her new assistant, Mina.”

The newcomer turned to me, set down her drink on my desk, then reached out. “Rachel, Public Relations and Marketing. I’m Lucinda’s right-hand woman.” (New risk assessment update: threat to Maggie’s sanity.)

My gaze darted to Maggie, whose eyes had narrowed into lethal slits. Honestly, I was more afraid of Maggie’s wrath than anyone else’s. After all, she was Lucinda’s real right-hand woman. (Risk assessment update: probably plans Rachel’s murder daily.)

I cleared my throat to cover up a chuckle. “Mina. Nice to meet you.”

She pulled her hand away and grabbed her shake, taking a slurp. “Your hair is so…unique.”

I was currently sporting a fake mohawk, since I had needed to cut my hair after the accident—stitches in the back of the head. It was now close cropped on the sides and wavy on top, walking that line between punk-rock and office chic. “Uh…thanks?”

A bell rang and Maggie’s annoyance disappeared, a mask of quiet fierceness in its place. She reached for the side gray wall and pressed a small panel that levered up a handle. My eyes widened. Whoa. How had the blueprints missed this?

I shook my head to clear it and activated the camera on my fake glasses.

She pulled sideways and a piece of the wall moved with her, a sliding door which had separated our office from Lucinda’s domain. Bright white walls, a perfectly sparkling clean glass desk with small laptop on the center, black stone floors with giant pure-white plush throw rugs, a fireplace, white couches around a small flat screen television, and art. Everywhere art.

Giant paintings, pedestals with sculptures, glass shelving with small artifacts and family pictures, and recessed lighting highlighting all of them. The paintings and sculptures were primarily of half-naked women with a few landscapes dotted in. The office was the size of my entire apartment.

Maggie threw me a smile. “I know. It’s something, right?”

Rachel stepped right in front of me, positioned to make her way first into the office, and subsequently blocking my recording efforts. I contemplated poking her with the tip of the pen in my hand. I shifted my stance to peer around her.

A glass door on the other side of the office opened, held by a buff-as-hell man dressed in all black, wearing sunglasses and a newsboy cap. (6’4” extremely fit, blazer over T-shirt to cover his gun. Badass. Risk assessment: moderate if I didn’t have my gun.)

Then, a woman in her mid-sixties with an ice blond bob cut so severely it could draw blood walked in. She wore a crisp white pant suit and blood red skyscraper heels. This was my mark, Lucinda Nicks. She moved like a dancer, practically floating into the room. (5’10”, old-school model body shape, suit costs more than my car. Risk assessment: threat to managers everywhere when she was disappointed in customer service.)

The moment she took off her white rimmed oversize Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses, I knew without a doubt she was Carma’s mother. Lucinda’s green eyes were piercing, even at a distance.

She handed her purse and shades to the waiting man, who disappeared through a door at the other end of the office. With ballerina grace, she sat in her plush office chair and nodded. Rachel jerked her head to flip her hair behind her shoulder and sauntered into the room. “Lucinda! Great news about the new ad campaign!”

Lucinda held up her hand and Rachel stopped. “I’d like to meet my new assistant first. Take a seat.” She motioned to one of the four chairs on the opposite side of the desk. Rachel, who looked shocked and peeved—hehe—perched on an end chair.

Maggie placed her hand on my elbow and gently prodded me forward. “Ms. Lucinda, this is Mina Madison, your new second assistant.”

“Come here, please.” She gestured to her side of the desk with a perfectly manicured finger. I hit my watch as I folded my arms in front of me, trying to keep Lucinda in range and Rachel out.

Her eyes did a brief once-over, pausing at my feet, then moving back to my hair. She pursed her lips. “I prefer my assistants in heels.”

I smirked, remembering the training exercises SHAP put me through while wearing a variety of outfits. One never knew what would happen undercover, like when I needed to relocate an endangered firebird’s nest, at night, in a tree, while wearing six-inch stilettos. They still told that story at orientation. “Ms. Lucinda, I can do anything in heels, but I can do my job faster in flats.”

Maybe it was my looming thirtieth birthday, maybe it was the car accident, but after a day in heels I wanted to cut out my spine. I had a high pain tolerance, but why waste it on footwear?

She fought a smile. “I see. Your hair is acceptable. In fact, it’s growing on me.” She turned to face Rachel. “I’m thinking about doing the same to mine.” She ruffled her shoulder length, perfectly styled bob. “What do you think?”

Rachel’s mouth moved like a fish. I nearly snorted. So, Ms. Lucinda had a cutting sense of humor. I liked her immediately, which would make this job more fun. Until I had to arrest her.

She turned to face me with a charismatic smile. “I’m sure you’ve heard many terrible stories about me.” She leaned forward and stage whispered, “They’re all true.”

I laughed. “Good. I can’t wait to work with you.” It wasn’t a lie. I was a sucker for a good villain. They made life fun.

A knock on the open door made us all swivel as Carma walked in. “Hey, Mom.” My helium heart returned at the sight of her in a green dress and heels. Must have been the double shot of espresso I had this morning. Her gaze met mine and she smiled.

Clearing my throat, I bowed my head and backed away as Carma moved past me, her arm brushing mine and her strawberry scent lingering between us. She kissed her mom on the cheek, and then sat on the edge of her desk. Her hem dragged up a few inches and that floaty feeling raced down my arms to my fingertips. I was probably just hungry again.

Maggie sent me a smile and nodded her head back toward our office, our sanctuary. I walked out like I was being chased, then secured our outer office door from passersby. Falling into my computer chair, I grabbed a protein bar and shoved it into my mouth. After washing it down with some water, I refocused on the stack of handwritten correspondence—seriously, who took the time to handwrite cards?—and got to work typing up replies for Lucinda to review. The job wasn’t mentally straining, but it was distracting.

My cell vibrated and I scanned the text from my partner.

Jake: Heard target was in. Reading?

Me: Inconclusive. Photos uploaded. Placement should be *thumbs-up emoji*

Jake: ok Jake: Having a good day?

Me: Not bad. Kinda fun. U?

Jake: Need some sugar Me: I’ve got a protein bar in my purse He never remembered to pack a snack, so I always made sure I had one for him.

Jake: W/ choc chips?

Me: Duh. I’ll text when free. Meet you @ bathrooms?

Jake: *heart emoji* *drooling emoji*

“Boyfriend?”

I startled and dropped my phone, like a winner. God, I was rusty. I should’ve heard someone approach at least ten seconds before they reached me. I looked up to find Carma leaning against my desk. I forced my gaze to stay on her face and not wander lower to the shadow just above the V-neck of her dress.

“Don’t worry, I don’t care if you’re playing with your cell,” she promised. “I may be VP, but I have zero control over who Mom and Maggie hire or cut loose.” She gestured around us. “This is their domain. I just control the Thinner managers and in-house vendors.”

“Not a boyfriend!” I came out with, a bit too loud. My cheeks heated and I looked down at my fidgeting hands. “Not a girlfriend, either.” I looked up, not sure why I’d said it.

Flirting with men was easy. I just fluttered my eyelashes and pulled my neckline lower. But beautiful women were almost as terrifying as giving bad news to my father. I could take down a pack of cannibal shapeshifter with my feet bound and a fractured wrist, but god forbid I tried to buy a woman a drink. Not that I had much of a dating life anyway. People tended to get pissy about me disappearing without much, if any, contact for weeks at a time.

The cell in her hand rang, and she glanced at the screen then scrunched her face. “I’ve got to take this.” She turned to leave the office but paused at the door. “It’s not my now ex-girlfriend, either.”

Her words simultaneously slammed into my chest and lifted me six feet into the air. I should be very, very concerned. Mixing business with pleasure was absolutely forbidden when on a mission.

Yet, I couldn’t control the airy, giddy laugh that tumbled out of my mouth.

By the time Lucinda’s 4pm meeting with her team of lawyers rolled around, my head was full of ways to listen in. With Jake’s help, we had arranged a flower delivery from a “satisfied member” to Lucinda, who absolutely wanted the flowers on display in her office. When they had arrived, I volunteered to unwrap and arrange them, pasting the small listening device to the center of the bouquet. It had about ten hours of battery and was water resistant. My week’s goal was to install more permanent devices in the office when no one was around.

Too bad Maggie never left her desk. When I asked her if she lived here, she just laughed and waved the question away. She was here when I arrived and still working when I left at night, and I honestly wasn’t sure if she ever went to the bathroom for more than sixty seconds. While I could place temporary bugs quickly, one minute was nearly impossible. My offers to cover the office while she took a lunch break, or to stay late instead of her, were always denied.

Just before four, Maggie went to greet the lawyers in the lobby and left me to finish arranging a coffee cart, pitchers of water, and freshly made Thinner shakes for those observing the program. I was moving the tray of shakes from the attached kitchen to Lucinda’s office when Carma walked in with her arm through her mom’s, heads close together as they conversed in low tones. I strained to hear but couldn’t catch more than every other word.

Mindful that the bug tucked in the vase would only pick up a limited parameter, I placed the flowers on the side of her immaculate desk, closer to where the lawyers would sit. Outside of her computer, there was nothing else cluttering the surface.

“This, Mina, is why I do this job.” Lucinda stopped to finger one of the gorgeous red peonies. “Not flowers, per se, although these are lovely. Even if I prefer white roses. But because I,” she looked up at her daughter, “we give people hope when they’re hopeless. When they need help and don’t want to wait years for a result.”

She walked to her desk chair and sat down with her ballerina grace. “It isn’t just about weight loss, you know. A person can be fat and still healthy. Or maybe they aren’t in perfect health but love the way they look. They’re not the members for us.”

Glancing up, she smiled at me. “I’m here for the ones who are so desperate, for whatever reason, they may try something that would cause serious harm.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I held her gaze, knowing she was sharing this because she wanted me to understand why she did what she did. This was important for her, which meant it was important for the investigation.

“I almost died, you know, trying one of those desperate ways. I combined diet pills with a juice cleanse after a photographer said no one wanted to see my aging saggy stomach anymore.”

“People are garbage,” I muttered.

She smiled softly and nodded. “So was my plan.” She reached out and took Carma’s hand. “Luckily, my daughter found me in time. She saved my life. Now, I want to help people be successful like me.”

I nodded. I’d been trained to spot a lie from across a room, and I knew Lucinda believed every single word she said. I looked over to Carma, who used her thumb to carefully dab at a tear in the corner of her eye, without mussing her makeup.

These two clearly believed whatever they were doing was helping others, and maybe they were. But all villains were the heroes in their own stories. I wanted to ask them more questions, to keep them talking, but Maggie appeared in the doorway, followed by three lawyers. With a brief nod, I stepped aside for them to pass, then moved back into my office. Once the lawyers were seated, Maggie rushed out and closed the door behind her, securing it flush with the wall.

The outer office door opened, and Rachel barged in, as if she had a tracking device on Lucinda. “Heard she’s here!” Without waiting for an answer, she turned toward the space where the open door should have been and took two steps toward it. “Need to tell her about this new—where’s the door?” Her hand hit the wall, exploring. But without either Maggie or me hitting the button that released the handle from its locked position, she was unsuccessful.

I delighted in her petulant huff. I caught Maggie’s eye, and her look had said what I was thinking. Can you believe this woman?

In her cool, calm tone, my partner in crime said, “She’s in a private meeting right now. She asked not to be disturbed.”

“Is it with Michigan News? She asked me to be in on that meeting. Why didn’t you call me?” Her hand went back out to the wall. “Please hit your button.”

“Not the news.” Maggie kept her smile light, but her arms tense at her sides. “It’s a private concern.”

Rachel gave up on the wall and moved to Maggie’s desk. “Who’s she with?”

Maggie smiled. “She asked me not to share that information.”

The other woman rolled her eyes, then turned to me. “Can you believe this? You know Lucinda’s gonna tell me as soon as she’s done.”

This was probably true. Lucinda liked to share everything with her team, even things that were probably better left private. I had learned more about her best friend’s bikini wax from hell during a lunch call than I ever wanted to know. Still, I wasn’t opening my mouth.

I shrugged. “I’m the second assistant. They don’t tell me anything.”

She frowned, clearly annoyed at being unable to break the newbie. “Fine. I’ll just call her myself.” She spun on her heel and stomped out of the office.

Maggie chuckled and slid into her chair, then kicked off her shoes. “That woman exhausts me.”

I laughed. “Which one?”

She waved her hand in the air with a smirk. “All of them, honestly. But especially her.” She pointed out toward the hallway. “I spend half of my job cleaning up hers, like when she schedules interviews and doesn’t factor in drive time.”

She rolled her shoulders. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. I didn’t sleep well last night. Kept thinking I’d come in to find you were just a dream and I had gum-popper back.”

My smile wobbled and I schooled my expression. “Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.” Yet.

“I’ll go to the caf and get us a cup of tea. When she’s in with the lawyers, it’s practically the only time she won’t call me.” She stood and I clocked the sneakers on her feet.

This could be my chance to grab a food sample. I stood. “I could go for us. You can rest instead.”

Maggie shook her head. “Until Lucinda gives you the in or unless you do the program, cafeteria is off limits. Sorry, kid. You like green tea?”

Dammit. I smiled and nodded. “Green tea sounds perfect.” She turned to leave. “Maggie, why work here if you’re not on the program?”

She paused. “My sister, Joan, works in Lucinda’s residence as the house manager. You’ll meet her soon, no doubt. When this job opened up, Joan handed my resume right to her.”

“And you like it here?”

She laughed softly. “It’s definitely not for the faint of heart. But yes, I love a challenge. On the bad days, I just remember we’re helping people. That’s what matters.”

I smiled and she tapped on the corner of my desk before walking out. I watched her leave. I really liked Maggie and the thought of having to arrest her made me shift uncomfortably in my seat.

Refocusing, I reached into my purse and palmed the second listening device. In a perfect world, I’d cut open Maggie’s external computer speakers, place it inside, then reattach the screen, but no amount of quick dry glue would work in the time it took to make tea. Instead, I slipped it underneath the lip of the half cubical wall between us. It should pick up most of our phone calls and anyone who came to talk to us next to the desks.

Me: 2nd bug planted.

Jake: *thumbs-up emoji*

I deleted the text thread from my phone, then sat back in my seat. I’d just opened a spreadsheet when Maggie walked back in carrying two paper to-go mugs. She set one on the desk, along with a creamer, a packet of sugar, and a pouch of honey. “I didn’t know if you preferred your tea with sweetener or milk, so I brought you options.”

I touched the edge of the creamer as emotion balled in my throat. This was ridiculous. All she had done was bring me tea. Had my hard edges faded during my months on leave? I better hit the gun range this week and make sure I could still shoot a target blindfolded.

It was just…she was taking care of me. No one had done that in such a long time. I cleared my throat and tried again. She may be a great coworker, but she was still part of Team Enemy. “Thank you.”

She smiled and sat down at her desk, nursing the tea. “You’re welcome. I’m so happy we hired you.” She rested for a few more seconds, then sat up straight, setting her tea on her desk. “Alright, back to work.”

I stashed the creamer, sugar, and honey in a drawer, then turned back to my computer screen. I was loading addresses into a spreadsheet for a luncheon at Lucinda’s home, and my fake glasses were working overtime to record all the contact information. I only had about an hour of battery life left and had to keep moving quickly.

A mouthful of hot tea did nothing to dissolve the guilty feeling in the pit of my stomach. This is your job, I scolded myself. You’re here because they could be very dangerous. They could be killing people. It’s just tea.

I eyed the cup. I had never worked at a job where I had felt so appreciated in only the first week. The last time I was an undercover assistant, I was literally washing dog poop off the bottom of shoes and taking phone calls at 2am from a drunk boss.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that the fallout from this sting was going to be different than any of my past assignments.