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Both women relax and focus at the same time, realizing that I’m not busting them and I need their help. Megan grabs a pad of paper from my desk and a pen. “Ready. What do you need?”
Stephanie nods, her phone out for her own notes. “How many bodies do we need to bury?”
Their varying responses are perfectly in sync with their personalities. Thankfully, I don’t think Stephanie actually knows any contract killers. “Prep for two, but possibly three.”
Megan pales, taking me seriously. Hell, I might be serious. I’m not sure yet.
“On my way upstairs, I ran into both Mark and Brandon in Acquisitions.”
Stephanie raises an eyebrow. “Did they find out they’re dating the same woman?” she asks eagerly, likely disappointed she missed the fallout battle to the death that would result in. “That’d be fun to watch.”
“No, but there’s more. So, so, so much more,” I reply a little keyed up, and their brows climb their foreheads. They might as well be begging tell us, tell us with their expressions, and for some reason, I’m reminded of Ace’s dog, Kevin. “Okay, I was walking down the hall and heard Mark on the phone.”
I give them the quick one-minute summary of the call I overheard, focusing on the ‘babe’, ‘Layla’, and ‘contract’ comments. “I figured he was getting ready to cock block Brandon, but then when I got to his cubicle, I gave Brandon that envelope and he was such a dick I didn’t say anything.”
“Good move.”
“He deserved it.”
“Perhaps. Anyway, he opened it and it’s business paperwork, fancy logo and all, signed by Layla Franklin. I think that’s The Layla.”
Stephanie makes the leap first, putting into words the thought that gelled up in my mind on the way downstairs. “Wait, so you think they’re mixing business with pleasure?”
My head bounces up and down like a bobblehead. “Yes! Something like that. What have you noticed lately? Anything sketchy at all?”
Megan lifts her pen up like she has a sudden revelation. “Oh! You know how the legal team is doing a step challenge?”
Stephanie gives me a perplexed look, but I’m open to any insights, even if they don’t seem related. Yet. “Yeah?”
“Davis and I were walking at the park last weekend, and I saw Nikki there with her dog. It’s the cutest little peanut of a thing.” She lowers her voice to a whisper. “The dog was wearing Nikki’s FitBit, running around like crazy and racking up the steps. Something tells me she’s going to win, but not fair and square.” Megan nods sagely, as if that was some super spy-level intel.
Stephanie and I meet eyes questioningly as Megan fast ‘walks’ her fingers through the air demonstrating what the dog must’ve been doing. Clearing my throat, I ask, “What does that have to do with Mark and Brandon?”
Megan tilts her head, her hands wide with her palms up. “Uhm, nothing? You just asked what we’ve noticed about folks around the office. I noticed that.”
It takes an admirable amount of strength to keep my eyeballs facing forward and not rolling back in my head in exasperation. She’s right, that is what I asked. Just not exactly what I meant. “Good job, Megan. Thank you. Now, what else do we know about Mark and Brandon?”
I remind myself that with Megan, sometimes I have to be very, very specific to get what I’m looking for. But both of them are like me, invisible around the office, and they both say little and see a lot.
“Mark’s been smiling more,” Stephanie says. “About the same time he started getting the Layla calls. I figured he was getting top-tier vag in the mornings, the way he looked.”
“Mmm, and Brandon has a swagger that hasn’t always been there but he’s more douchey.”
“Brandon got a new haircut and colored the little premature grays at his temples.”
We swap little bits of observation around until Megan lifts her pen again. “What was the logo on the paperwork?”
“TRE is all I got, and some blue triangles,” I admit. “Helpful?”
Megan snaps her fingers and points at me like I’m the logo in question. “That’s one of the companies Fox is working on some big contract with. I made copies of a presentation for one of their meetings. I remember that logo since it looked so much like some video company from the 80s or something.”
I cut my eyes at her in surprise, not knowing that. “You sure?”
Megan nods, and Stephanie whistles softly. “So dating is definitely a conflict of interest if she’s from a company in consideration.”
But the puzzle pieces are clicking together faster for me, not just the border edge they’re messing around with but the bigger picture. And it’s an ugly image of deceit and double-crossing. “What if it’s not just a conflict of interest? What if it is the interest?” I ask. “Like an inside track on the company?”
