She said, “You know, focusing on one task at a time seems like a male privilege to me.”
Markus said, “I don’t get what you mean.”
“Women multitask. Men compartmentalize. Men are from Mars, women are from Venus.”
“I get what you’re saying, but you’re not at home. And your feelings are some of the things you should be compartmentalizing. Literally, save them for later because they’re making it harder for you to focus on the task at hand.”
Her voice Ginsu sharp, Gabby said, “What are you talkingabout, Markus? If I’d wanted to compartmentalize things, I would have started selling Tupperware with Shelly.”
“Huh?”
That’s right. It’s not like he knew who Shelly was.
Markus let out a breath. “Just breathe, Gabby, and turn off Sloane. I don’t know what’s going on, but you seem on edge today. Is there something bothering you?”
“Take your pick, Markus. There are about twelve major problems today alone.”
“You need to figure out how to handle the stress. Compartmentalizing isn’t a joke. We’re counting on you.”
“I’m fine.” Her voice sounded angry, even to her own ears. She was angry.
“I need you to get that laptop.”
“How, Markus? You saw where it is. It’s behind Kramer’s desk, and he never leaves. He doesn’t have to because he makes me run all of his errands. I’m driving across town to get his favorite curry right now.” Speak of the devil, a text came through on Camille Walker’s phone. Kramer probably needed her to pick up his dry cleaning too.
“Gabby, you are the one in the office. You see his patterns. Watch him a little more closely. Does he take a long poop at the same time every day? Is he late some days of the week? What are his weaknesses? Does he like pretty girls and we could send in someone to flirt with him while you break into the safe? Think.”
“I’m doing this job with less than a week of training while single parenting.” Just to complicate things, the Mafia was threatening her family, but she couldn’t say that part aloud. She’d been holding it together, keeping all of her frustrations in, rolling witheach new punch. With each comment from Markus, she could feel the dam start to break.
“I know, but you can do better.” He expelled a frustrated breath. “You aren’t even listening. Yesterday, you hired an outside person, which could compromise the mission. You almost got fired.”
“You think I don’t know that? I am doing my best. Back off, Markus.” This was a warning for his own good.
“Your best isn’t good enough. Do better.”
Gabby gasped. “Compartmentalize this, Markus!” And she yanked her earpiece out and threw it on the passenger seat next to Camille Walker’s phone.
Wednesday afternoon, Lacha Somtum Thai Restaurant, East Hollywood
Ten minutes later, Gabby pulled the car into a space in front of Kramer’s favorite Thai place and stepped out without putting the car in park. It rolled into the vehicle in front of it, luckily not causing any damage. Gabby was unfocused, fuck-compartmentalizing, not-safe-behind-the-wheel mad. Goddamn Markus. “Your best isn’t good enough” rang in her ears, echoing all of her insecurities. After Markus had been so sweet to her, the words were a betrayal.
It wasn’t as much of a stretch to imagine Markus as the bad guy now. WatchingNovaya Bitva Ekstrasensov, breaking into her house, and telling her she wasn’t good enough—there was a lot about Markus she didn’t know. It’s not like Valentina divorced him because he was too handsome and patient.
The Thai place was cute. Not too fancy, and neat and tidy with colorful Thai art all over the walls and a whole herd of lucky cats in various colors and sizes sitting next to the cash register. Actually, not a herd, a “clowder.” Just last week Kyle had informed her that was the name for a group of cats. Kramer was spiritually atodds with everything in this restaurant, including the clowder of lucky cats, but the man knew his curries.
Compartmentalization might not be her thing, but Gabby knew about retail therapy and eating her feelings. Stupid Sloane Ellis had skipped those chapters.
“How much?” she asked about a small lucky cat. Retail therapy always helped.
“Twenty bucks,” said the woman.
A little luck was worth twenty. And a girl needed to eat her feelings sometimes. Plus it was lunchtime. Gabby got her own curry, a lucky cat, and a bag of tamarind candies for the kids. Her three different bosses could all suck it. The curry was made with fresh coconut milk, fragrant with lemongrass, and healing in a way that only good food could be.
When her phone buzzed with a text, she got ready for the next issue in her life. The school nurse or Kramer, but no—the lucky cat paid off. It was Valentina.Meet at HQ after work. Lessons, as promised.
Halfway through her bowl of restorative curry, Markus stepped through the door. She glared and set down her chopsticks. With a quiet, “I will stab you with this chopstick if you come any closer” energy, she said, “I need a lunch break, Markus. Do you know I haven’t sat down for lunch once this week? And it’s only Wednesday.” Ten minutes alone with a bowl of curry—was that really too much to ask?
He settled into the chair across from her. “Do you mind if I sit?” He waited for her to nod her assent.
