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When I swiveled around in my chair, Kam stood there looking a little sheepish as he pushed his glasses up. In my head, I started counting backward from a hundred. It was a coping mechanism I’d developed a long time ago to ward off a full-blown attack, which under the circumstances would be embarrassing.
“Sorry for startling you, but the boss said he wants to see you in his office.”
Figures his grouchy ass would want to see me right when I was in the middle of something groundbreaking. A chill went down my spine at the thought that my technology might revolutionize how we fought the war on drugs.
“Did he say what he wanted?”
His nose wrinkled as if he’d smelled something bad and I discreetly tipped my head down and to the side, inhaling. Nope, definitely not me. I still smelled like my favorite rose body wash.
“No, but he’s in a foul mood.”
What else was new? Tossing my headphones on the keyboard, I locked my screen and stood. Unfortunately, the stupid wheel on my chair caught in my mat again, and I fell forward, my arms flailing. Kam reached out, catching me before I could face-plant.
My skin crawled where his hand rested on my forearm, and I hoped he didn’t hear my swift intake of breath. God, I hated being a freak. He was only making sure I didn’t get a concussion, which was the least he could do after scaring the shit out of me.
“Thanks,” I said, shaking the torn mat from where it clung to the heel of my Mary Jane’s.
“No problem.” His hands fell to his side, and he took a step back. “Good luck in there.”
Before I could embarrass myself any further, I walked away. People smiled as they passed me in the hallway, and I gave them a nod of acknowledgment, and kept on going.
While I secretly had a soft spot for Herb, mainly because every time his wife made chocolate chip cookies, he brought me some, I didn’t want to get cornered by the old curmudgeon. Our dumpy office chairs aggravated his sciatica, and my nerves couldn’t handle listening to him complain for ten minutes right now.
The wooden door to my boss’s office stood open, and I knocked, awkwardly standing in his doorway. This was like high school all over again, waiting outside the principal’s office for him to see you. Except this time, I knew I wasn’t being called in for something my sister had done.
“Come in,” he said, not looking up from the mound of papers on his desk.
He continued to ignore me as I sat down in one of the ugly beige chairs in front of his desk, and as the silence stretched, so did my nerves. My middle finger rhythmically rubbed over the top of the one beside it, the motion doing nothing to soothe me. Next, I fixated on the credenza behind the desk. Anything to keep from being stuck in my head, endlessly obsessing over why he’d called me into his office.
There were a few kid’s drawings that sat behind a “number one dad” coffee mug. In the family photo he had next to it he was smiling, which I honestly didn’t know was possible. Most of the time he stalked around the office with a scowl on his face, popping Tums as if they were candy.
His chair creaked, calling my attention back to him. He leaned back, his elbow on the arm, two fingers resting underneath his chin. Back and forth my finger moved, my palms warm against the leg of my black dress pants. If he didn’t start talking soon, I was going to sweat through this stupid suit jacket.
“You have a twin sister, correct?”
That was not what I expected him to say, and for a second, I sat there, dumbfounded. Why would he be asking about Cherry? It wasn’t like I ever talked about her, or my personal life, around the office. Not that playing video games or dressing up forComiconwas worth mentioning.
“Yes. What is this about?”
He sighed. “Either you’re the world’s best actress or you really don’t know.”
What could Cherry have gotten herself mixed up in? Admittedly, I hadn’t spoken to her much since I left for college. I’d been eager to leave the minefield of memories from our hometown in my rearview mirror, and unfortunately, my sister had been a huge part of those memories. But it wasn’t as if I’d taken off and left her unprotected.
Most would consider it stalkerish to give your sister a phone, and then use it to spy on her, but I had my reasons. Surely, between that and social media, I would know if something had changed. Her last post was of a waffle that resembled Elvis and her phone never left her apartment building yesterday. How much trouble could she possibly be in?
This had to be some sort of misunderstanding or maybe even a case of mistaken identity. The DEA would have no reason to be interested in my sweet, perky, outgoing sister. All I had to do was straighten it out for her and everything would go back to normal.
“Sir, if you’ll tell me what this is about, I’m sure I can straighten out whatever it is.”
“Doubtful,” he grunted, eyeing me over the rim of his tortoiseshell glasses. “Your sister is involved with The Devil’s Deviants.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
He could have told me Martians landed in my front yard, and I would have been less surprised. Maybe I was wrong, and I had been called in for something my sister did. No. This had to be some kind of twisted joke. No way would my sunshine and rainbows sister be involved with a biker gang. Hell, even her social media was filled with encouraging quotes and upbeat memes. In none of the pictures she’d posted, and she posted a lot, was she with men who wore leather vests.
“Congratulations. You’re being promoted to field agent. Bring down The Devil’s Deviants and we let your sister walk. No jail time, no criminal record.”
All thoughts about my moving dot and the breakthrough it signified fled. Shit! He was serious. Like prison time serious. There was nothing for me to fix and everything most definitely would not be fine. The closest I’d ever come to being a field agent was the time I controlled a surveillance drone from the laptop of a van.
