Undercover Boss Page 3

“Don’t call me when I’m working.”

  “Don’t pretend to be working when you’re clearly dicking arou—”

  I hung up and returned to the machine I’d been wiping down when he called, using a box of wet wipes to disinfect the handles and screens on one treadmill after another. It was tedious but strangely nostalgic as I remembered the care I used to take when I opened my first gym. You could’ve eaten off the equipment there for how much it sparkled.

  From time to time, I glanced towards the front desk, which Gemma seemed to manage tirelessly, her ponytail as high as her spirits as she worked. I wasn’t sure if I was fixating on her for her obvious managerial talent or because I was fascinated by how pretty she’d become.

  Of course, I always thought she was pretty. Even years ago when I didn’t know how to name the feeling. But back then it was less about how she looked and more about how cool she was to me when I was such a scrawny loser. I remember being surprised the first time she made me laugh until it hurt. No girl had ever done that before.

  Hell, no girl had ever even looked in my direction before her.

  I double-checked my work and deposited some abandoned towels in the laundry bin.

  “You in tomorrow?” Gemma asked as she restocked the pamphlets at the edge of the curved front desk.

  “Every day this week,” I said, thinking I would’ve arranged them differently. “You?”

  “I’m always in.”

  “You have plans for dinner tonight?”

  Her eyes flicked up at me.

  “It would be nice to catch up.”

  Her eyes narrowed as if I’d grown a second head.

  “If you’re—”

  “What?” she asked, crossing her arms. “If I’m what?”

  “Free?” What was with the third degree?

  “Oh.” Her shoulders relaxed. “I can’t. I’m closing tonight.”

  “How about tomorrow?”

  “I’m closing tomorrow, too.”

  “And after?”

  “After closing?”

  I shrugged.

  “You know we close at 11, right?”

  “Did I say something wrong?” I asked. “I wasn’t trying to make you uncomfortable.”

  “I’m not. I just—”

  “What?”

  “I just can’t.”

  Was she playing hard to get or outright rejecting me? “Can’t eat after 11 or can’t bear to spend a half hour with me?”

  “It’s not that,” she said, tucking a stray wisp of dark hair behind her ear.

  “How about Saturday?” I asked. “We’re closing early, right?”

  She considered me for what felt like an eternity.

  I couldn’t believe it. I hadn’t had to ask for a date more than once since I was eighteen.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” she said. “Now that we’re working together.”

  “Isn’t that our thing, though? Eating in secret?”

  She laughed.

  “Say yes, Gemma.”

  She gripped the edge of the counter.

  “I don’t bite.”

  She nibbled her lip.

  “Unless your insides are made of nougat, in which case I make no promises.”

  A flush of pink spread across her cheeks. “Okay.”

  “Great, I’ll pick you up and we can—”

  “No,” she said. “I’ll meet you.”

  I ran a hand through my hair. “Did I miss something? I thought we had a nice time talking earlier and—”

  “Talking is fine.”

  “So what’s with the third degree?” I asked. “I haven’t suggested we do more than that.” I’ve thought it, sure, but I haven’t said it out loud…I don’t think.

  She sighed. “I’m just out of a relationship.”

  “Lucky me.”

  “No. Lucky me,” she corrected. “And I’d like to keep it that way.”

  I raised my palms in defense. “Hey, no one wants you to get luckier than I do.”

  Her eyes popped open and her face went white.

  “You know what I mean.” Shit.

  “I’ll see you tomorrow,” she said, taking a step back towards Mary’s office.

  “You sure you’re okay to close up on your own?” I asked, unused to feeling like I’d put my foot in it.

  “That’s how I like to do things,” she said, her blue eyes steely.

  “I’ll leave you to it then,” I said, turning on my heels and heading for the door. Once outside, I leaned against the brick building and pulled my phone out, figuring if Jimmy wasn’t in the neighborhood, I’d get an Uber home.

  “Hey, Alex.”

  I turned my head to the right and leaned off the wall when I saw Gemma peering around the front door.

  “I didn’t mean to be rude.”

  “You don’t need to apologize,” I said, relieved she hadn’t come out to tell me she’d changed her mind. “Or explain yourself to me.”

  “Thanks,” she said, leaning against the door. “Even though I’m sure you’d understand if I did.”

  I lifted my eyebrows.

  “But this isn’t the time or place.”

  “I understand,” I said, slipping my phone back in my pocket. “And I respect your professionalism.”

  She straightened up, and her eyes smiled. “I just didn’t want you to think I’m not happy to see you again.”

  My mouth curled up at one corner. “I would never think that.”

  She rolled her eyes. “As long as I haven’t offended you.”

  “My skin is just as thick as yours, remember?”

  “Right.” She studied the edge of the glass door before glancing back at me one more time. “Well, goodnight.”

  I watched the door swing shut slowly, thinking it would be a better night if she’d stayed even a minute longer.

  But I had tomorrow to look forward to. And Saturday.

  And when the thought struck me, I had to smile, as it had been too long since I’d eagerly anticipated anything.

  And while I’d never admit it to Jimmy, I was starting to think going undercover wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

  F L A S H B A C K

  - Alex -

  I stood in the dusty dirt beside the kickball field and waited for the inevitable…getting picked last. Unfortunately, the fact that I knew it was coming didn’t seem to make the process go any faster.

  I shoved my hands in the pockets of my shorts and looked down at my toes before lifting my big toe so it stretched the worn fabric of my sneakers. At least it hadn’t poked through yet. That was something to be thankful for.

  When I looked up, there were only six kids left standing to either side of me, each waiting to get picked by one of the older boys who’d been chosen as team captains. One stood with his hands on his hips, nodding every time he picked another camper for his team. The other, who’d referred to me as “Skinny” twice this week, was slouching on one hip and chewing gum in a way that would’ve gotten me a smack upside the head at home.

  Then it was down to four. Me and three girls. Ouch. Two of them were hanging on the older boys’ every word. The other, however, was staring down at a ladybug in her open palm. It was down to us in no time.

  The captains looked at each other and then back at us, announcing that the final pick for each team would be for “first alternates.” I knew what that meant. It was a nice way of saying bench warmers. Not that the metal benches needed any warming on such a sweltering day. Still, I can’t say I was disappointed to be sitting this one out.

  Ladybug Girl seemed to know what it meant, too, because she walked over and took a seat on the bench without taking her eyes off the bug.

  I stared at the long bench bordering the sideline fence and wondered if it would be weird if I sat next to her when I had the whole bench to choose from and we were on opposite teams. I did it anyway. “Nice bug.”

  “Is that what it is?” she asked, looking over at me.

  My chest tig
htened when her blue eyes met mine. “What?”

  “Is that what it is?” she asked. “As opposed to an insect?”

  I studied the rosy skin of her cheeks and wondered if they were as soft as they looked.

  “I can never remember.”

  I glanced down at the ladybug in an effort to recover from her attention.

  “Do you know?” she asked, looking down at it, too.

  “It’s an insect,” I said, wondering how long she’d been carrying it around. “Technically.”

  She used her free hand to tug her shorts towards her knees before swinging her feet under the bench. “What’s the difference again?”

  “Bugs have long sucker tubes for mouths,” I said, relaxing a bit. “Whereas insects have segmented bodies, at least three pairs of legs, and antennae. And sometimes wings.”

  “Cool,” she said, studying the ladybug again. “So it’s really a lady insect?”

  “A lady beetle, if you want to be specific.”

  She glanced at me out of the corner of her eye. “How do you know that?”

  “I used to want to be an entomologist.”

  “And now?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?” I asked, rolling my shoulders back. “I want to be the best kickball player that ever lived.”

  Her lips broke into a broad smile.

  “That was a joke,” I said. “I could care less about kickball.”

  “That makes one of us,” she said. “My dad is always going on about how kickball skills can make or break your whole future.”

  I squinted at her.

  “That was a joke.”

  “I’m Alex.”

  “Gemma,” she said, her head jerking when the ladybug took flight. She stared after it for a few seconds until it disappeared, before wrapping her hands around the edge of the silver bench.

  I looked through the wire fence as a cloud of dust kicked up around a boy sliding into first. It was the first time I noticed the noise outside our conversation.

  “See the pitcher,” Gemma said after a few minutes.

  I watched the boy on the mound shout into the outfield. “He’s been giving me shit all week.”

  “His dad’s in prison for beating on his mom.”

  “What?”

  She nodded. “True story.”

  “You’d think he’d be nicer.”

  “You’d think,” she said.

  I studied him, feeling something besides anxiety and anger for the first time. Was it pity?

  “You know Tori on second base?”

  “Not really, but yeah.” It was my first year at Camp Pendy, but it was pretty obvious that Tori was the girl all the other girls wanted to impress.

  “She absorbed her twin in the womb.”

  “She what?”

  “She absorbed her twin in the womb.”

  “I heard you, but…” I shook my head.

  “Crazy, huh?”

  “I’ve never heard of that.”

  “You have now,” she said. “Vanishing twin syndrome. Look it up.”

  “How do you know that? Are you friends with her?”

  “I used to be,” she said without emotion.

  “Why not anymore?”

  She sighed. “Tori doesn’t like to be friends with people who don’t look good in pictures.”

  I leaned back.

  “She told me so.”

  My neck bounced forward. “She said that to you?!”

  She shrugged. “Charming, huh?”

  “That doesn’t even make sense,” I said. “You’re way prettier than she is.”

  She cast her eyes down at her feet. “That’s nice of you to say, but I’m not blind.”

  “You must be if you can’t see that,” I said. “I’m not even saying it to be nice. It’s obvi—”

  “Stop,” she said. “That wasn’t my point.”

  “What’s your point then?”

  “That they can have kickball. That they need it more than we do.” She tugged her shorts towards her knees again. “I was just trying to cheer you up.”

  “Cheer me up?”

  “In case you felt bad about not getting picked.”

  I cocked my head.

  “Like most kids do.”

  “Why would you try to cheer me up when you don’t even know me?”

  “I don’t know. To make myself feel better.”

  I looked away to hide how much the comment surprised me. “Well, that’s not necessary,” I said finally. “I’d rather sit here with you anyway.”

  “Yeah?” she asked, her expression lifting.

  “No doubt.”

  She pushed her heels through the dirt and scratched at a mosquito bite on her arm. “That’s a nice thing to say.”

  “Some people make you want to say nice things,” I said, offering a smile I hoped would seal our friendship. After all, the few minutes we’d been talking were the first I’d spent at camp not feeling sorry for myself.

  Besides, I knew where she was coming from. I was used to getting stuck on the sidelines with kids who were either terrified of their own shadow or annoyingly desperate to impress.

  But she was neither. She was less like a mosquito and more like a mosquito bite.

  Irresistible. Unexpected.

  Proof that I was alive.

  S I X

  - Gemma -

  I turned my spare key in Jeanie’s front door and fell against it as it opened.

  “You’re home early,” she said from the inside of her Wonder Woman Snuggie as her Chihuahua, Tinkerbell, jumped up onto the nearest arm of the couch, her tail wagging so fast I half expected her to take off like a helicopter.

  “Very funny,” I said, dropping my purse inside the door. “What’s that glorious smell?” I stepped over and let Tinkerbell’s little pink tongue shower my hand in welcoming kisses.

  “I made Pad Thai,” she said, sliding a bookmark in whatever she was reading. “There’s a plate for you in the microwave.”

  “You’re the best,” I said, beelining over to start the timer. I stood watching the eerie glow in the dim kitchen for a moment, noticing for the first time all day that my feet were killing me. When the ding came, I slid the dish out carefully and carried it into the sitting room. “You know you’ll never get rid of me if you keep treating me to home-cooked meals.”

  “I’m not trying to get rid of you,” she said. “You’re the one that’s in a hurry to move out.”

  “That’s nice of you to say.” I stabbed a piece of golden chicken with my fork. “But I’m pretty sure I overstayed my welcome two months ago.”

  “I sleep better knowing you’re safe,” she said, tucking her shiny black hair behind her ear.

  “This is amazing,” I said, twisting my fork until it was loaded with fragrant noodles. “You have to tell me your secret.”

  “It’s easy. All you have to do is indenture yourself to my grandma for an afternoon.”

  “I thought she only spoke Thai?”

  “Oh right. You should probably learn Thai first. You’ll get more out of the lesson that way.”

  I rolled my eyes. “How was your day?”

  “Absolutely mental,” she said. “We closed early so we could host a party for a bunch of six-year-olds.”

  I smiled at the thought of a bunch of little girls swinging their legs on tall chairs, their tiny fingers fanned out and waiting to be painted. “How’d it go?”

  “Great until the part where they were supposed to sit still and not touch anything while their nails dried,” she said, pulling her knees up so I’d have more room on the couch. “None of them were very good at that.”

  “Shocker.”

  “I’ve never seen so many crocodile tears.”

  “Ah, to be young again,” I said, my eyes on my plate as I wished a smudged thumbnail were my biggest worry.

  “Speaking of lizard-like predators, any word from Ray today?”

  I shook my head. “Nothing except the message he left me this
afternoon.”

  Her face paled. “You’re kidding me.”

  “I wish.”

  “What did he say?”

  “The usual. I stopped listening after ‘ungrateful slut.’”

  “Jesus, Gemma. Did you save the message?”

  “Of course. But the cops said unless he threatens to kill me, there’s not much they can do.”

  “That’s bullshit,” she said, pulling Tinkerbell into her lap.

  The little dog kept her attention on my plate, her eyes following every forkful I lifted to my lips.

  “It’s time to change your number.”

  “I know. It seems unfair, though, that I should have to change the number I’ve had since I was fourteen because he’s a psycho. As if I haven’t already been inconvenienced enough with this whole homeless phase.”

  “You’re not homeless,” she said. “You can stay here as long as you want.”

  “I know, but it feels like I’m hiding, ya know? Instead of moving on.”

  “You want to look at places? I told you I’d go with you as soon as you’re ready.”

  “I’m ready all right,” I said, scooping up some peanuts with my fork. “It’s my schedule that isn’t. Unless you know of any open houses taking place after ten p.m.?”

  “One of the girls at the salon is married to a real estate guy. Maybe I could call in a favor?”

  “That’s not necessary. You’ve done more than enough.” My mind jumped back to the night I fled, my heart stopping at the memory of how my hands shook as I knocked on Jeanie’s door, the last words Ray said to me as I walked out ringing in my ears. You’ll be back, you fat fuck. “If anything, I’m the one that should be doing you favors.”

  “I’m glad you feel that way because I finally figured out how you can get me back.”

  I shoved another spoonful of salty, limey deliciousness in my mouth before raising my eyebrows.

  “My little sister is holding her first tattoo party on Saturday.”

  I swallowed. “Tattoo party?”

  The expression on her face was enough to let me know she didn’t think it sounded like fun either. “It’s like a Tupperware party, but people get tattoos instead.”

  “You’re not thinking of getting one, are you?”

  “God, no. I’m happy with the ones I’ve got, and my sister can’t draw for shit.” She flipped Tinkerbell over and held her against her chest like a baby. “But I feel like I need to be supportive since she’s finally trying to make something of herself.”