When she didn’t respond because she was trying not to have a panic attack, he said, “What, is it too on the nose for financial people?”
He had no clue how on the nose this theme was.
“Gabby, I don’t think you’re grasping just how amazing thisis for three hours of planning. I went for simple and easy. And I picked up your kids!”
Simple and easy would have been an overpriced caterer and a rented conference room at the Marriott.
“Trust me, it’s going to be a hit.”
Wrong choice of words. A hit was exactly what she was worried about.
At least she had provided an invitation. Gabby poked her head into Kramer’s office and waved an overly cheerful goodbye while he was distracted so she could slip out before any discussion of the invitation or her job status. Better to give him a minute to process that one. “See you tomorrow, Mr. Kramer. The invitation should be in your inbox.”
Tuesday, finally the end of the workday, driving home on the 405
It had been a long day. One of those days that was so long that she couldn’t even vaguely remember where she’d parked. Disoriented, she scanned the parking lot for her minivan before remembering that’s not who she was anymore. She hit the button on the key fob, and Darcy’s car beeped a quick hello.
In the driver’s seat, the automatic preferences went to Darcy’s settings, a quick reminder that she was driving a dead woman’s car, stepping into a dead woman’s life. Even more than that, she was filling in for a woman who liked to drive with the seat way back. Had she driven with one hand on top of the steering wheel, relaxed dad–style? In Gabby’s mind, Darcy was a 1980s action hero, casually saving the world, probably uttering one-liners. She might not have met her, but she could feel Darcy’s “yipee-ki-yea, motherfucker; hasta la vista, baby” energy. It struck Gabby that all those taglines were meant to be uttered as the bad guy took his last breath, a final goodbye. Instead, Darcy was the one who was gone.
Gabby moved the seat as close to the steering wheel as possible, as if that would give her control of the road, and gripped the wheel tightly at ten and two, her knuckles whitening at the thought ofDarcy. At this time of day, it would take her at least forty-five minutes to get home, enough time to come up with a plan. As much as she wanted to bury her head in the sand and watchNailed It!until she passed out on the couch, she couldn’t.
Smirnov had told her not to move the kids, but not moving them was just leaving them like sitting ducks, waiting to be taken hostage.
And Markus. She had given him the code to her house. Was he as trustworthy as she believed, or was he just handsome?
Emotionally unavailable alpha types were always her undoing. It would be so much easier if she could just sit with everyone, have a conversation, and figure out who the mole was. Trying to make decisions without all the stakeholders in one room was almost impossible.
She needed to move the kids.
Option one: send the kids with Phil. Smirnov didn’t even know she was divorced, so he definitely didn’t know Phil was in a hotel. Sure, she wanted the kids to live somewhere with warm beds and a kitchen, but at least Phil’s hotel didn’t have the Russian Mafia.
Option two: send the kids with her mom. This would be better in some ways. Time with grandma, who happened to live in another town. But what if Smirnov found out? Would she just be roping her mom into the danger too?
Option one was up first. “Siri, call Phil.”
“Gaaaaabby,” he answered, dragging out her name. She could just see him leaning back in his office chair and putting up his feet, getting ready to kick around her agenda like a hacky sack.
Keep control of the conversation. “Are you back from Sacramento?”
“Yeah, that was a day trip. I hate that town.”
“I was wondering if you were around this weekend. I thought you might take the kids.”
“Um, what? I don’t really know what we’d do in a tiny hotel room for a whole weekend. I mean, I thought you didn’t want them living out of suitcases.” After a pause, he said, “Maybe if I could have the house. You could have the hotel.”
She sighed. That wouldn’t solve anything. The only one out of harm’s way would be her.
“No thanks, Phil.”
“You know, that’s a new thing divorced parents are doing.”
She noticed her speedometer clicking up. She’d gone from sixty-five to eighty. Further proof that she did not make good decisions around Phil. If she gave him ground on the house, pretty soon she’d be living with him again.
“It’s just that we have a bit of a… pest problem.” Sticking with the same lie was the one way she was simplifying her life this week.
“What, are you doing a bug bomb this weekend?”
“I was thinking about it. Maybe I can call one of those humane exterminators. I’ll figure it out.” She wanted to get rid of the Mafia, but she didn’t want to see her reluctant kidnapper dead. He still had a chance to turn things around.
