Okay maybe it wasn’t that good of an idea. Why the hell did I tell the security guy to stay away? “If these photos show up anywhere, I’ll know you didn’t give me all the copies and I will find you.”
The smile he had from earlier turns into a frown. “You get thelast of the negatives when I get my money.”
That’s what I thought. I pull the envelope containing thirty thousand dollars — it’s much lighter than you would expect — from my purse and hold it up in the air. “On three then?”
I have no idea what I’m doing. Who thought it was a good idea to leave me in a parking garage with an envelope of money? How many other assistants have been left to taskslike this?
He rolls his eyes, but pulls out one loan thumb drive. “Fine.”
“Wait, where did you get them developed?” I tuck the money back toward my chest.
“In my room of course. This isn’t my first rodeo, honey. Now toss me the money.”
“One. Two. Three.” I throw the envelope of money high in the air. It makes a tall arc next to him.
He on the other hand whips the thumb drive at my head. I’mcarrying a purse, a huge manila envelope, and a Ziploc baggie full of other USBs. Nobody’s expecting me to catch this thing. Least of all me. The drive smacks me in the chest and then drops to the floor. I bend down to pick it up and add it to my Ziploc baggie when the emergency exit door alerts.
I look up in time to watch the mystery journalist duck out the door and head down a staircase. Ihope to God my threat worked and these are all the copies because for as much as my words sounded all big and tough about taking his picture, I have no idea how we would actually find him. Or who I would hire to beat him up. Maybe Dexler. If not him he has to know someone.
**
It took me less than twenty minutes to take all the photo evidence to Asbell’s office. He was not happy when he saw thethumb drives and immediately pulled open a desk drawer where he had four more baggies full of the exact same type. A lot of swear words were said. Even though I showed him the picture I’d taken of the guy — and he told me none of his other assistants had been smart enough to do that and I should send him a copy — he didn’t give me a raise or anything.
I guess he also didn’t fire me, so that’sa plus. There were, however, a lot of reminders about how Oliver is not supposed to leave my side. Then he followed them up with questions about where the fuck Oliver was at that very moment if he wasn’t supposed to leave my side. I’m not quite sure the type of person my boss thinks I am, but there’s no clone of me running around. Rather than get into a debate with him about the space time continuumand how I couldn’t physically occupy two spaces at once, I smiled and nodded and then got the hell out of there.
It put me back in the practice arena in time to pick Oliver up for dinner. Unfortunately, I’m in no mood to eat dinner with a man I recently paid thirty thousand dollars to buy images of him in bed with another woman. Regardless of their legitimacy. I took extra time pushing my traythrough the buffet line selecting a sandwich made with fake bread, fake cheese, and fake meat. It’s probably all made of protein powder. I’m not even kidding, they sprinkle the shit everywhere. I guess maybe that’s why they’re all assholes. They haven’t had real food in years. It’s a decent theory.
I drop my tray on the gray round table Oliver sits at by himself. The small container of mysteriousgoo resembling pudding plops off the tray and rolls across the table. It was probably protein powder anyway.
“Whoa. First you ignore me all the way here in the cab and now you attack me with a pudding.”
My reply is louder and harsher than I plan. “It’s not pudding! You think they’d let pudding in here?” Pudding has sugar and other ingredients that taste like food.
He laughs a little, but hesitantly.“It’s pudding like.”
I roll my eyes and fall into the chair not in the least excited to eat my all bran sandwich. “Well that makes me feel better.”
“Why are you so quiet and then standoffish? It’s making it hard to get to know you.”
“I’m not standoffish.”
His eyes widen a fraction and then he quickly schools his face back to normal. Probably realizes it wasn’t smart to argue with me at thispoint in time. “Okay, if that’s what you think.”
A woman — taller than any woman should actually be… seriously, she has to be at least six-foot four — strolls up to our table. She’s dressed immaculately, from tightfitting jeans, which have to be designer, to a cute little blouse with her highlighted hair and perfectly done makeup. I look at my own outfit, a pair of jeans and the USA Gold MedalT-shirt and scowl. Some of us have to work at these events.
“Mom?” Oliver says standing from the table.
Mom?
With a second glance there are a few aging lines in the corners of her eyes. Maybe a few extra creases in her brow, but for a mom she looks spectacular. I hope I look as good when someone his age calls me mom.
Oliver fidgets long enough to remind me his mom’s a bit crazy. Like batshit crazy.
“Mom, this is Kenny. Kenny, my mom.”
I immediately freak out because he introduced me as Kenny and I don’t have a beard.
“It’s so nice to meet you.” I stick my hand out and smiled largely. “I was meeting with Oliver regarding tomorrow’s big event.” It’s totally logical. All athletes are required to do multiple interviews before, during, and after the day of their race event. Iactually have his interview schedule clipped to my clipboard. Of course my clipboard is in my room where I dropped it off earlier in the evening. The one time I’m caught without it is the one time I need it.
