Chapter 7: Chapter Seven

It was the demon wearing a crocheted sweater and eating from the dumpster that really topped off my night. He was hard to look at, almost like watching a 3D movie without the colored glasses. He was all gray—as if he stepped out of a pencil drawing—had a nose as big as his two horns, eyebrows that reminded me of racoon tails, and long fingers with even longer talons.

I stormed over and held up the cross on my keychain. Sebastian hovered at my back. “Belphegor, you know Applechester is off limits!” Fucking demons.

He snorted and kept on eating, his long, thin tail swatting away flies. “Put that away. You haven’t been to church in twenty years. And why are you covered in blood?”

I looked down at my shirt and groaned. Another one for the trash. “Another vampire.”

“We need to talk about these vamps.”

“You and half the town. How long will you curse us with your presence?”

He pulled at his sweater. “Calm your tits, I’m just visiting.” He pointed to the Andrews’s window. “Your landlord is a piece of shit. Had to fix a few things before George tried to do it himself. Sink’s been leaking for weeks, straight into Doris’s apartment. Last thing we need is for that bitch to start sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong. Every time she gets that priest to bless the building, I can’t come back for, like, a month.”

“Don’t call women bitches,” I snapped. Sebastian pointedly cleared his throat. “And thank you for helping. I don’t know how to do plumbing repairs.”

“Never thought I’d hear a thank you from you.”

“Fuck off. You done here?” Despite my feelings toward Belphegor, I was glad he liked to help out the Andrews. George had tried to change a light fixture a few years back, and it had not gone well. Firetrucks and ambulances were involved.

He held up his food container. “Just grabbing dinner before heading home.”

“Don’t test me, Belphegor. I’ve had a long day and I’m not playing.”

He jumped out of the dumpster and took a step toward us. Sebastian flashed in front of me. “Refrain from stepping closer.”

Belphegor laughed. “Oh, does the pretty princess need a strong protector now?”

“So I don’t screw up my shoulder again? Damn right I do. Also, since when are princesses considered weak? They grow up to rule entire countries.”

“Fair.” He eyed my shoulder. “What’s not fair is the bloodsuckers feeding in Applechester. We all live by the rules and we still get shit on. You don’t get these vamps under control, I can’t promise the rules will still be followed. You got me?”

“Because I can control a bunch of rogue supernaturals?”

“Literally your job, kid.”

“Piss off, demon.”

He shrugged. “Just giving you fair warning. You know the demons are waiting for any excuse to come visit. Applechester is like a fine wine. The flesh here tastes better—not that I’ve had any in a decade.” He finished eating—container and all—then let out a noxious burp.

I stepped back and made a face. “God help me if more than one of you shows up.”

“I don’t want to share Amber,” he warned. “Get this shit under control or we’re both gonna be unhappy with the results.”

“Yeah, I’m working on it.”

He ran his talons up and down his sleeves. “This wool is so soft. Alpaca, you know.”

“It’s eighty-nine degrees.”

“Yeah, cold!” He hugged himself as if he was shivering.

“Listen, tell your buddies no one, and I mean no one feeds without authorization in town. And if they do, they will die. Likely at my hands. Got it?”

He looked outright disgruntled but nodded. “Except at Amber’s? She makes these mulled wine cookies—”

“Human feeding, Belphegor. Human feeding. Fix shit, eat the damn cookies, then leave. Yeah?” I looked upward to the gray sky, only to have rain fall straight into my eye. Today was so fun.

He bowed mockingly but then ran a talon across the ground and opened up a gaping hole. “You can un wad your panties. I hear you. Hey, you got insight on who’s gonna win The Bachelor?”

“Do I look like I have time to watch reality TV?”

Sebastian motioned with his finger. “My guess is Serena.”

The demon winked at me. “Pleasure doing business with you.” Then he jumped through the hole in the ground that sealed behind him.

Rain pelted us from every direction, soaking my work clothes. “This is bullshit.”

Sebastian nodded then gestured ahead of him. “After you.”

I walked back to my truck and grabbed the groceries, then headed up the front walk. “Serena?” I asked as he fell into step with me. “You watch The Bachelor?”

He shrugged. “Why not?”

My response was cut off when we walked into the building. The common area to the right of the door—which amounted to a love seat, scattered chairs, an obsolete fireplace, and a half-played game of chess—was littered with ghosts, all six of whom gasped in unison. (The humans preferred to hide in their own apartments like respectful neighbors.)

“We’re fine!” I called, making my way to the stairs.

Reggie roofed into being in front of me. “¡Dios mío! Another one?”

“Wasn’t after me this time.”

Dani peered around Reggie. “I’ve got a bad feeling about this. Vampires just randomly running around town biting humans isn’t the thing.”

Me, too. There weren’t vampires at Thinner, at least that I’d met. So what linked the two? Was the vamp who attacked me just a coincidence? Did he get a membership before he died and transformed?

“Wait…” I looked at Dani. “Say that again.”

She looked startled but complied. “Uh, vampires running around biting humans—”

I held up my hand to silence her. Frown frozen into place, I reached back into my memory to the night that vampire launched himself at me. Five foot eight, around one-ninety. Open collared shirt. Dirt and blood on the front. Expensive watch, no wedding ring. No visible tattoos.

Closing my eyes, I focused in on the memory of his neck as I gripped it to hold him off me. No visible puncture wounds.

Holy shit. I set down an armload of groceries and reached for my phone.

Me: The vamp that attacked me, did he have puncture wounds?

Me: I didn’t see any on his neck.

“Mina?” Sebastian asked.

I held my hand up, not ready to explain.

“She’s back!” someone whispered, but they were immediately shushed.

Jake: Opening autopsy report.

I nearly screamed at the three dots dancing next to his name. Come on, come on, come on.

Photo message.

I clicked on the photo, a screenshot of the report. Visible puncture wounds: None My eyes widened as my stomach turned over. This was so much worse than we thought, but also this was our first major break in the case. Vampires often had puncture wounds because it was the easiest and most effective way to introduce the venom into the bloodstream, or because it was a side effect of feeding.

There were cases where the venom was introduced in alternative ways because fangs scarred. I’ve seen models, actors, and politicians change without puncture wounds, using several intramuscular injections to start the change. It was expensive and rife with complications, from sourcing venom to maintaining potency between extraction and injection.

Venom was rarely potent enough from being ingested to survive stomach acid. But what if there was a way to make it more digestible? The possibilities were endless. It could be put in capsules, food, and beverages at an affordable price. It could easily create vampires en masse. Full covens overnight.

Me: What if we’re not looking for a few vampires hunting out of turn or a botched transition attempt?

Jake: I’m listening.

Me: What if they found a way to make venom edible?

Jake: Not even our labs could do that.

Me: But what if? Could turn a large group at once.

Jake: How is Thinner involved?

Me: Working on it I tucked my phone back into my pocket and stooped to pick up my groceries.

“Lightning strike?” Sebastian asked.

“Major.”

Someone cleared their throat and we all looked left, only to find Doris standing outside her apartment door. She stared at me, as I stood in the middle of the foyer, my bloodstained shirt soaking wet, holding a dozen bags of groceries, talking to what she assumed was myself.

She shook her head and pulled her purse closer to her body, as if I was going to drop my load and snatch it from her. “Oh my goodness.”

“Hello, Ms. Manalin.”

“It’s a little early to be drunk, Mina.”

Sebastian moved closer to me as if he could protect me. She couldn’t see him; what was he going to do?

“Not drunk, just talking on my headset.” I didn’t actually have a headphone in my ear, but how would she know?

With a nod of my head, I headed for the stairs. No doubt Doris was about to spin a new story about what was wrong with me. There were always “random” pamphlets for alcohol and drug addiction treatment programs in my mailbox, and occasionally people from her church would knock on my door and ask if I had heard of their Lord and Savior. To her, I was the random woman upstairs with a penchant for talking to thin air and “not being able to hold down a job.”

Most SHAP employees tried to avoid her. She was a full human and the kind of busybody who would open her mouth to the wrong person and blow someone’s cover. Maybe we should recruit her as a spy.

As soon as I made it to my apartment, I tossed my bags onto the counter, shifting through to pull out the refrigerated items, then changed my clothes. As soon as I was presentable, Sebastian followed me down one floor.

The door swung open and Amber, who was 4’11” on a good day, smiled and pulled off her reading glasses, which hung on a beaded chain. “Hello, dearies,” she said. “Come in, come in.”

Sebastian removed his top hat and executed a bow. Amber giggled at what she called his boyish charm. We followed her into the kitchen, where I set down her bags and started to unload the items onto the counter. We worked in tandem as she put the perishables away, then wrote me a check for the total.

I would argue with her—I didn’t need her money since I hardly spent my own—but it was a fight I knew I wouldn’t win. This had been a weekly tradition ever since she stopped driving three years ago. She patted my arm in thanks as I folded the piece of paper and shoved it into my pocket.

Gesturing for me to sit at the table, she followed with a plate of cookies in her hand. “You deserve these.”

I looked between her and the plate, then reached out and took a still-warm morsel. I chewed on a corner of the cookie, the chocolate chips still soft and melty. I swallowed quickly, trying not to let her magnificent baking distract me from why I was here.

Amber shook her head. “I can tell by your face that you saw Belphegor. He’s been so helpful, and I had a new sweater for him.”

“Beautiful yarn, as always,” Sebastian complimented. “You knitted this one! I thought you preferred crochet.”

“I like both.” She winked at him. “I’m bi-stitch-ual!”

I laughed. “Mrs. Andrews, you know I’d be happy to help with house projects, instead of you summoning a demon. Belphegor being here violates several SHAP policies.”

She wielded the cookie plate between us as if it were a lifeline. “Another cookie?”

I shook my head. “We talked about how we’re not trying to attract supernatural creatures with the tendency to…” How did I put this delicately?

“Eat, maim, attack, seduce, kill, or generally cause a ruckus?” Sebastian suggested.

I pointed at him. “Yes.” I tapped on the table. “If Belphegor ever came up in a report, things could get messy. For both of you. It’s luck he hasn’t yet.”

“I know, I know.” She stood and walked over to the sink, grabbing a cloth. She ran it under hot water, then began wiping down the already spotless counter. This was her favorite distraction when we had to have the hard conversations.

Sebastian gave me a long look, as if silently asking why I hadn’t filed a recent report about a demon hanging around. I hadn’t because I was too busy recovering for the last four months, but now, I had no more excuses. Letting Belphegor slip through the cracks was fine until more demons arrived. Then it would be mayhem.

I studied the wallpaper, which should’ve been overkill with its giant, bold flowers, but it made the room feel cozy. Normally our apartment manager didn’t allow us to decorate with wallpaper, but the Andrews were one of the first tenants, and therefore were allowed to decorate however they wanted. At least that’s how the ghosts told it.

When she had moved to scrubbing the stove, I cleared my throat to get her attention. “Mrs. Andrews, why are you determined to summon these creatures to your home? It’s dangerous. They’re bad creatures.”

She paused, her shoulders sagging. When she turned around to face me, I was astonished by the tears in her eyes. Oh no. Not crying. I was terrible with crying. Jake was the one who handled the tears, not me.

She twisted the cloth in her hand. “It’s a big world for me and George to be all by ourselves, you know?” She walked over to the sink and laid the material over the side. “I know we always have you and Sebastian, and quite the group of ghosts, but…”

She blew out a watery breath. “Figured if I could help make another lonely creature feel better, maybe it would lift my mood, too.”

Sebastian shifted in his seat, blowing out a breath and looking everywhere but at me. He was a big softy sometimes. I watched her for a long moment, rolling her words over in my mind. “You summon demons to make sure they’re not lonely?”

She scoffed. “Of course not. They have to earn the sweaters or any of my garments, in fact. They’re happy to help for a sweater or a pair of socks, although the socks are harder to fit. You know, with the hooves.”

All I could do was blink. “What about the poltergeists?”

She waved my question away. “Accident. I was trying to get my great aunt Mildred’s molasses cookie recipe, my copy was irreparably damaged, and I wanted to make them for the church bake sale. I ran out of Oil of Theobroma for the spell and tried to substitute coconut oil. That didn’t work.”

I opened my mouth and then closed it, not sure even how to respond.

She turned to face Sebastian. “Thank you for your help, by the way.”

“Happy to be of service, ma’am.”

Her eyes turned back to me and studied me. “Why are you making that face?”

“If you’re going to summon magical creatures, why not an Earth magic witch or one of the werewolf puppies?”

She released my hand and picked up the cookie plate, walking over to the counter. “Mina, not all supernatural creatures are inherently bad, even ones from the underworld. Some of them just have bad jobs to do. Belphegor is smack in the middle of eighty-four siblings.”

Her head disappeared as she bent down to get a plastic bag from a cabinet, then placed it on the counter. “Torturing humans was just the job he was assigned to do, like it or not. Demons don’t have the choices we do. But every two weeks, he makes it a point to stop in and see if I need help—he wanted to be a carpenter you know, but that wasn’t where he was needed—so I let him come help in exchange for a sweater. He knows if he bothers anyone in town, our friendship will crumble.”

She finished putting the cookies in the bag and sealed it, then walked back to the table.

George, Amber’s husband, scuttled in, leaning on his walker. He was barely taller than Amber, his shoulders slumped from years of desk work. He smiled when he spotted Sebastian and me, then went over to Amber and bussed her cheek. “Are you talking about Belphegor? It was so good to see him today. That sink has been leaking for three months, and you know Tony only does repairs when he’s sober.”

George opened the bag, nabbed a cookie, and sat down next to me. “Yep, Belphegor is a good boy. But his brother Astaroth, he’s just not nice and isn’t welcome here.” He inspected the treat in his hand. “Honey, these are some of your best cookies.”

“He always says that.”

“That’s why I married her. Well, and her ability to see the best in even the worst people.”

Her cheeks reddened and she shushed him. She resealed the pack and pushed it toward me. “These will freeze, so don’t eat them all at once.”

My eyes widened. Jake was going to swoon when I shared them with him tomorrow. “Are you sure?”

“Very sure.” She patted her slightly rounded stomach. “Enjoy them. And remember, there’s more to a demon, sometimes, than their claws.”

“And their penchant for eating people?”

She nodded. “That’s why I always make cookies when they visit, dear.” She winked.

We said our farewells and I trailed after Sebastian, my mind racing with Amber and George’s take on demons. On life, really. I couldn’t wrap my head around how they couldn’t see the evil in Belphegor. A creature who did bad things, in my book, was inherently bad.

“You will injure yourself if you keep thinking that hard,” Sebastian teased.

I gave him the finger, then sighed. “I just can’t wrap my head around Amber.”

He gave me a half smile. “You’re barely out of short pants. Give it time.”

My cell rang as soon as I unlocked the door. “It’s probably Jake.”

Sebastian nodded. “I’m weary. Going to rest.” He waited until I closed the door before disappearing.

For a ghost to stay visible, it needed to expend less energy than it pulled from the atmosphere. Today was exhausting for both of us. Sure, he could pull energy from me, but that wasn’t the safest or most comfortable situation for a human. If he pulled too much, I could go into a coma fast.

I answered my phone before it went to voicemail. “Yo.”

“You home?”

I dumped the bag in the freezer, then fell onto the couch, wishing I could just fizzle away, too. “Just. Had to have a chat with the Andrews again. I’ll have cookies for you tomorrow.”

“You’re my favorite human.”

I snorted. “I’m telling Eliza.” His sister would never let him live it down.

“And here I was calling to be nice.”

“You’re lying. What’s up?” The shuffling of papers in the background proved my point.

“I had Val pull vampire attacks for the last six months within the entire county.”

I sat up. “And?”

“Ten.”

“TEN?!” I ran a hand through my hair. “Jake, we haven’t had ten attacks since the 90s.”

“I know.”

“There’s more.” It wasn’t a question.

“All the attacked were traced to six separate vampires. None of those six vampires had puncture wounds.”

“My theory stands.” I ran my hand down my face.

“Your theory stands.”

We were silent for a long moment as the consequence of this discovery settled in. “But how does Thinner connect? Is Lucinda a cover? Is it bad luck? Is someone using the member database to find victims? How are all these vampires connected to Thinner when there are none at Thinner?”

“What if they don’t work for Thinner? They buy memberships so they can get in and out of the building, rent the real estate for after-hours use. It would explain why the entire business is basically underground.”

“Like an after-hours vampire breeding orgy?”

“Is that any weirder than the dry cleaners?”

“Ew.” I wasn’t easily grossed out, but that was a case I never wanted to remember yet couldn’t forget. Let’s just say they weren’t dry cleaning clothes.

“Alright, looks like there’s going to be a large-scale electrical problem over the weekend that will require multiple electricians to fix. We’ll get cameras in.”

“Awesome. Keep me posted.”

I lay on the couch for a while after we hung up, too exhausted to roll off and make dinner. This week had kicked my ass, and my neck and shoulder were so tight they throbbed. I hadn’t been doing my stretches as much as I needed to, and typing all day wasn’t helping.

Opening a browser on my phone, I searched Natalie Moranis. Maybe she had a Facebook profile or a blog post. I clicked on the third link from a local news company.

“WDC News. West Bloomfield, Michigan, resident Natalie Moranis, age thirty-three, filed a lawsuit against the new star-studded weight loss company Thinner saying the mandatory food and supplements have made her sterile. She claims her period stopped when she began the program…

The company responded that all members must sign an extensive membership contract, one which they promise was reviewed and approved by their doctor. They did not have a comment on if their food or supplements may have a negative impact on conceiving…”

It wasn’t new information, but I bookmarked the page anyway. Periods stopped for so many reasons, including dramatic weight change. What on earth could both make someone lose weight and make them sterile? And how did it connect to Thinner?

Something very strange—stranger than usual—was going on. It was like someone had taken all the supernatural-human rules SHAP had laid out decades ago and tore them in half. Or maybe they didn’t know there were rules to play by. It wasn’t, however, my responsibility to teach the rules. It was my job to enforce them, no matter the reasoning.

No matter the consequences.

By Monday morning, news of Natalie Moranis’s lawsuit hit national news. Morning talk show hosts blasted both Natalie and Thinner. Natalie, for wanting to lose weight, and Thinner for existing. The next segment was how to “maintain your beach body all year round,” followed by two weight loss supplement ads. The people at the station clearly didn’t understand irony.

I called Jake when I climbed in my truck. “Yo, see the news?”

“Yeah.” I could hear him washing dishes in the background. He couldn’t leave a dirty dish in the sink all day, unlike me. “Requested permission to view her medical chart and lab work. Damn HIPPA. So far, nothing.”

I snorted. “Chances?”

“Hmmm. Thirty percent?”

“Well, we’ve done more with less.” I tapped my steering wheel, trying to think of the next move. “But a standard metabolic blood panel isn’t going to tell us what we need to know. We need an actual blood sample to run it through SHAP protocol.”

SHAP could test for werewolf genes, vampire antibodies, and at least seventeen different types of human hybrid creatures. Unfortunately, we would need a few vials of blood to do so. “Start with the medical chart. I’m going to leave a message for Dad and see if he’ll reach out to Natalie’s lawyer about a complex blood sample. It’s probably an even longer shot, but maybe she’s crazy enough to do it without asking too many questions.”

When trying to deal with humans who didn’t know about the existence of SHAP or supernatural creatures, we used a cover. SHAP became SAFE, a “special FBI task force dedicated to keeping citizens safe from unidentified threats.”

The Thinner office was already chaos when I arrived twenty minutes early. Rachel and her entire department were camped out on Lucinda’s sofas, brainstorming about what they could do to mitigate the fallout. Maggie had her cell and her landline against an ear, and my desk phone was ringing.

Dropping my purse into my desk drawer and turning on my computer, I grabbed the handset and a pen. “This is Mina.” I didn’t mention it was Lucinda’s office. I’d played games with the media before, and the less information they had, the better.

“I’m a good friend of Lucy; is she in? I just want to check on her.” The caller was a woman with a syrupy voice, but she made three mistakes. One, no one ever call Lucinda “Lucy.” Two, I literally had a list of her closest friends. Three, I heard the hint of a southern twang.

“And who is calling, please?”

“Tell her it’s Sarah.”

Sarah was a good choice. It was a popular enough name to appear on Lucinda’s friend list twice. But I knew one Sarah had an Israeli accent and the other was a born and bred New Yorker who just adopted a dog named Derek.

“Hi, Sarah.” I smiled menacingly. Did these people think I was new? Well, I mean, I was new, but I wasn’t an idiot. “How’s Derek doing? What’d he think of his new place?”

“Oh, you’re so sweet for asking. He’s great, loves his new place. Plenty of natural light and storage space.”

This was increasingly amusing. “Oh yes, he did need a lot of storage space.”

She kept going. “Of course! Now, sweetie, I’m in a hurry. Is Lucy around or should I call her cell?”

Fun fact: Lucinda didn’t use her cellphone to “chat.” It was only for emergencies, and the number came in as “blocked.” She always called from either her bodyguard’s phone or a family member’s cell. Apparently, there was a disgruntled ex and a really scary stalker incident that was long before my time.

No one but Carma, Maggie, and Lucinda’s head bodyguard even had the number. Not me. Not even Rachel, who tried to get it at least once a day.

“You better try her on her cell, okay? Give Derek an ear scratch for me.”

“What’s her numb—”

I hung up with a chuckle. Feeling someone standing next to my desk, I looked up to find Carma staring at me, surprised.

She gestured to the phone. “How’d you know it was fake?”

“Derek is Sarah Sinclair’s new dog. I shipped a dog bed to her from Lucinda last week. It may have been top of the line, but in no way did it have ‘plenty of natural light and storage.’ And, you know, they wanted her cell.”

“That’s why I hired her,” Maggie whisper-yelled before returning to her calls.

Actually, that had been a mix of luck, computer hacking, some fake resumes, and a few bribes—including gum-popper, who didn’t even like gum. He was now working another super cushy desk job. But I wasn’t going to argue with Maggie. Had I lived another life, and something super concerning wasn’t going on, I would’ve enjoyed being here and working with Maggie.

And…admittedly, Carma. “You are a breath of fresh air,” she said. A soft smile pulled my attention to her lips.

My phone rang again and with my best customer service voice, I answered. “No comment.” After hanging up, I turned toward Carma. “Assuming I’m no-commenting all the media?”

“Who was it?”

“Michigan Lakes Gazette.”

She made a face. “Weren’t they the ones who refused to cover the dog being elected mayor of Applechester campaign? Who’d even want to read them now?”

I lifted my hands up. “Right?! Madam Barks-A-Lot makes a really great mayor. She’s very ‘for the people.’” The real Applechester mayor was a werewolf who thought having a dog as the figurehead would be hilarious and good for tourism. She wasn’t wrong.

“Yeah. I have her interview in the Applechester Journal bookmarked.”

Carma smiled and my insides grew all floaty again. Maybe I really did need to cut back on the caffeine. Tomorrow, only two cups of coffee before leaving the house instead of three.

Her cell rang and she let out an annoyed huff then became all business. “Anyway, yes. No comment for everything. Rachel will reach out to who we want, when we want, with what we want. In the meantime, hold down the fort. I need to go have a talk with the front desk.”

She spun on her heel and practically skated out, her phone to her ear. I tried not to stare after her. But the way her perfectly tailored pants fit against her hips, the curve of her butt, the strength of her thighs…

My desk phone rang again, interrupting my leering. Rude. “Mina.”

The next several hours was a blur of no-comment-calls, damage control in Lucinda’s “public email” inbox—Maggie and I had to tag team to keep up—and power walks on the rare bathroom break. I was so busy, I nearly missed the SHAP team, disguised as electricians, loitering in the hallway and climbing up ladders near the office. My guess was they were installing cameras that would cover the entire floor. By the time Lucinda called a meeting in the executive conference room for Rachel’s team, Carma, Maggie, and the department managers, I was twitching. I’m pretty sure my body was at least eighty percent caffeine and thirty percent protein bar…which didn’t add up to one hundred, but I was too far gone for math.

If I was simply an overworked assistant, I wouldn’t be mad I was excused from the festivities, so to speak. My brain was numb from fielding calls from Lucinda’s actual friends, distraught members who somehow got routed to my line instead of member services, and reporters. This was Thinner’s first major scandal, which was what—I assumed—made it so juicy. My internet search earlier proved all the major weight loss companies had similar lawsuits during their tenure.

As an undercover agent, however, being excluded from the meeting left me scrambling. I had managed to plant two lower quality microphones I kept in my purse on the table legs in hopes they’d pick up the entire room. But someone tapping a pen on the glass top could sufficiently disrupt my listening.

Then, I had graciously offered to be in charge of putting together a drink cart for everyone, hoping it would either get me down to the cafeteria or would allow me enough time to grab a sample of a shake.

Apparently, no one trusted the new assistant. I mean, they shouldn’t, but still. Maggie ordered the Thinner refreshments and had them delivered to the conference room. Then, with her arms stacked with notepads, spiral calendars, and a precariously balanced cup of tea, she left me alone. I pulled out my wireless headphones and tucked them into one ear, then called Jake’s cell.

“Yo, planted devices A56 and A57. Can you patch me in?”

He made an affirmative noise. “Hello, nice to talk to you to. How’s my day going? It’s really busy but not too bad. How are you?”

I rolled my eyes. “How’s your day going, bud?”

“No, no. Too late now.” He paused. “Okay, so here’s what we’re going to do since I’m pretty much done for the day. I’m going to patch you into A56 and me into A57. Then you only have to listen to half the conversation in case you have to grab a call or whatever.”

“This is why they pay you the big bucks.”

He chuckled. “Medium bucks. Also, Magnolia wants to know if you’re coming to family dinner next Sunday.”

I smiled. When Jake’s stepmom asked if I was coming for dinner, it was only in question form as a courtesy. “I’ll be there at four thirty pm and will bring wine.”

“Roger.” With a few final keyboard strokes in the background, the sound came through.

The first ten minutes was Lucinda outlining corporate’s response to the lawsuit, followed by twenty-two minutes of Rachel yammering on.

“I’m seriously thinking about sticking bamboo shoots under my fingernails for fun,” I grumbled.

Jake snorted. “I never knew there was a preferred ratio of good press versus bad press.”

“And now you know.”

“In excruciating detail.”

Maggie started to speak, and I shushed Jake.

“What we need is an event that would highlight Thinner as an asset to the community,” she offered, “and quickly.”

“Sweetheart,” Lucinda said, “are you still hosting that Red Cross fundraiser?”

“Yes, in two weeks,” Carma replied. “We are fifty percent full. All the materials are printed and the press releases—”

“Well, you can just reprint them,” her mother interjected with a finality I could feel through the speaker. “Thinner’s your new biggest sponsor.”

Carma sputtered. “We’d need to redesign all the promo, the programs—”

“Whatever it takes.”

“I would need two of me, Mom! I can’t do it alone with a day job.”

Jake interrupted my stream. “Make an excuse to go into the room right now. If you can help Carma with the fundraiser, it’s an automatic in.”

“On it.” I dropped my headphone on my desk and took off toward the conference room. I knocked hesitantly, acting the part of a new assistant unsure of the ropes, and then stuck my head in. Lucinda stared at me, her eyes narrowing, as I gestured to Maggie. “I’m so sorry,” I said. “Maggie, I need to ask you a question, please.”

Lucinda motioned with her hand. “Just come in and ask her. It’s fine.”

I walked straight to Maggie and squatted down near her chair. I focused my attention on my manager but said it just loud enough for others to hear. “The cafeteria just called saying they thought they sent up the incorrect beverages. They had a new person fill the order. I assured them I would check for any discrepancies.”

Maggie nodded then addressed the room. “Did everyone get the refreshment they requested? It seems there’s a new employee in the cafeteria.”

Everyone nodded, confirming their order was correct.

I made it a point to stand, look around, and nod. “I’ll let them know all is well.”

Lucinda sighed. “It’s such a shame good help is hard to find. We lucked out with our Mina here.” She pointed at me. “Carma, she’s the one you need for the fundraiser. Mina’s only been here a week, and already my office is running smoother.”

I stuck my hands in my pockets so I wouldn’t fist pump. Bingo. “I would be happy to help in whatever way I’m needed.”

Lucinda tilted her head and looked at Maggie. “Can you spare her? I know you’re already stretched thin.”

Maggie nodded. “We’ll make it work.”

Lucinda scrunched her nose, as if she was second guessing Maggie. Time to tip the scales. “I don’t mind working after hours or on weekends, for the fundraiser.”

“I don’t pay overtime,” Lucinda warned.

“How about two vacation days instead?”

She smiled. “Done.” She pointed at me then looked around the room. “If we had a hundred more of her, we could franchise the entire world.” She looked back down at her notepad and put a check mark. “Exchange numbers with Carma and you two can start planning.”

I looked at Carma, who was smiling at me. That weird helium feeling returned, and I shifted on my feet, trying to dislodge it from my chest. “I’ll email you,” I told her, then bolted from the room and shut the door behind me. I didn’t stop until I made it back to the sanctuary of my office.

Grabbing my headphone, I put it in my ear. “Bingo.”

Jake sighed. “You’re the best.”

“I know.” I leaned back in my chair with a smile.