“So he’s going to be hard to nail that way. If you can get Rachael to flip or slip, we’ve got a chance. Follow up on this book you heard Hank mention when they were fighting. If Rachael clammed up when you pushed her about it—”
“Yeah, I know, it’s something. The real accounting book for the plant is my guess.”
“Safe bet.” Camden leaned over his plate. “So is Rachael when it comes to digging up dirt on Daddy. We both know it’s easier to gain someone’s trust if you genuinely like them on some level, otherwise people like this see right through it. You need to find that balance between getting close and not falling for her. When you look at Rachael and feel yourself slipping, picture Kathleen.”
Camden paused as Bill walked past the table to the stage. The Hideaway had filled up while Jake was talking and now it looked like the show was about to start.
“What’s this?” Camden asked.
“Just wait.” Jake couldn’t help grinning when the stage lit up and Bill put on a giant pair of sunglasses so covered in rhinestones it rivaled the sparkling disco ball over his head.
“Thank you, thank you verrah much,” Bill said as people cheered and clapped. “I’m gonna kick things off here and then turn it over to you good people with the real talent.” The karaoke machine started up and Bill curled his lip and went into a not-half-bad rendition of “Hound Dog” before introducing a couple dressed like Paul and Linda McCartney circa 1972.
Jake and Camden had worked together long enough to develop their own telepathy. They took one look at the stage, then at each other.
Camden leaned close so Jake could hear him over the music. “And your bird can sing.”
Jake nodded. “Rachael can. But will she want to sing outside of her cage and come here with me instead?”
And would she sing me a song to bring down her father?
Eight
Rachael couldn’t help smiling while she put out the candles in her office. Elena was right—Jake regularly sneaked upstairs and listened to Rachael sing after everyone else went home. On and off for roughly two weeks now, by her count. She wasn’t sure when she’d become aware of someone listening—it manifested as a feeling that she wasn’t alone. At first, she was terrified that Hank was lying in wait, so one evening she texted Elena, who was pulling down extra hours at the front desk, and asked her if she’d seen Hank leave. Elena confirmed the asshole had ducked out early.
Rachael quietly checked the upstairs offices, but no one was there. She dismissed the feeling as paranoia, though well-earned paranoia. She didn’t have the feeling again until a couple days later. Again, Hank was already gone and no one was around upstairs. So who could it be and why?
She went back over the days she’d felt watched to see if they had anything in common. They weren’t days that she’d tried in vain to find the book, which was her worst fear—another one of Daddy’s spies keeping an eye on her. No, they were typical days full of the usual bullshit, only made bearable by her brief talks with Jake in the breakroom. Ever since their ‘legendary’ conversation, he asked her about music—who she liked (anyone with actual talent), and did she watchThe Voice(of course, she DVR’ed it).
He asked what her favorite songs were at various points in her life. It was difficult to answer some of those because of the memories around the songs, particularly “California Dreamin’” which her mom had sung to Rachael as a lullaby. But the smile Jake gave her when he admitted that was an old favorite of his was worth the bittersweet pain, especially when she’d heard him humming it later.
Jake answered her questions too, until they had a map of their musical tastes which overlapped quite a bit, with a few islands here and there that they fiercely defended. For one, she could not comprehend how anyone could love Poison with the intensity of a thousand white hot suns, but never want to hear Led Zeppelin (the greatest of all pre-hairbands) again. At least they both had The Beatles, The Stones, Lady Gaga, Kanye, Queen Bey, and of course John Legend.
Rachael wracked her brain—So what else did I do on those days that was different? And then she realized it.
She sang when she thought nobody else was around.
Not intentionally. Well, maybe. She usually got a song they’d talked about stuck in her head for the rest of the day and it would sneak out between her lips. She’d catch herself humming while looking over files, and she’d stop before anyone heard. But at the end of the day, she’d think back on their conversation—interspersed with Jake’s typical humor—and she’d inevitably smile. Before she knew it, she was singing the song he’d inspired. The acoustics in the office were surprisingly good, at least to her untrained ears, and she’d go over a song a couple of times.
Until she’d felt a secret listener nearby. One who didn’t feel malicious, just curious.
If not Hank, then…Jake?
She’d asked Elena to keep a close eye on him, and her surveillance paid off the day Elena sent a text saying that Jake had snuck up the back stairs. No wonder she didn’t find him—Rachael never used the back steps since she’d have to cross the whole floor downstairs to leave out the front, and she hated the longer walk passing through the blood and the sides of beef and the sharp objects that rendered them to pieces.
Rachael didn’t know how to feel about Jake eavesdropping. It should have felt creepy, but it didn’t. Rachael’s inner-alarm wasn’t shouting ‘danger.’ Okay, it was, but for an entirely different reason related to Jake, one she didn’t want to look at too closely.
So, what did Jake want? He’d stopped trying to flirt with her, maybe sensing she was uncomfortable with it. He didn’t join in the harassment, but he didn’t pull a Hank and protect her with the intention of turning it against her later. Was Jake really only interested in listening to her sing? Was she that good? Instead of creeped-out she felt…flattered.
Andthatwas why her inner-alarm went off when she thought of Jake—not because of anything he did, but because of how she felt about him. She told herself over and over not to let him get too close, that he’d get hurt. And time and again, she waited for him to come into the breakroom just so she’d have another song in her head cheering her up for the rest of the day.
A dangerous game. But one she couldn’t resist. Happiness was too rare and fleeting.
And tonight she’d either step up the game, or end it.
Rachael kept singing today’s song, feeling both happy and a little sad. The Beatles’ “Blackbird” had been a special song between Rachael and her mom. She took out her phone and texted Elena.
He’s up here isn’t he?
