I built Martha to be forgettable. I built her to be the kind of person you look at and immediately look away from because she’s just… beige. Beneath that beige is a minor masterpiece. I spent weeks setting up her digital footprint with fake references, the dead-end address, the clean but boring social media presence. It’s solid. It has to be. I look in the rearview mirror and nod at what I see. Demi Barlow is gone. The woman who writhed in Marcus's arms last night is gone. There is only Martha, the invisible cog in the machine.
"Showtime," I whisper to the empty passenger seat.
The Horizon Wellness office is buzzing with the frantic energy of a hive that knows the queen bee is on the warpath when I get in.
"Martha!"
Gary’s voice grates against my eardrums like sandpaper. I turn, plastering on the shy, slightly terrified smile that Martha wears like a shield.
"Good morning, Gary. I have those expense reports you asked for. Just give me a second to log in to the system."
Gary is wearing a tie that is too short and a cologne that smells like he got it at a gas station. He leans against my cubicle wall, invading my personal space.
"Forget the reports," he says, waving a hand. "I need to talk to you about the staffing for next week."
I keep my face blank, but inside, I’m fucking smiling. Finally. I’ve been maneuvering Gary toward this conversation for ten days. I’ve been the most organized, most available, most pathetic doormat of a temp he’s ever had, specifically so he’d think of me for exactly one thing.
"Is something wrong?" I squeak, clutching a file folder to my chest. "Did I mess up the filing?"
"No, no, nothing like that," Gary beams, showing off teeth that haven't seen floss in a decade. "Actually, Dr. Thorne’s executive assistant is having a... meltdown. The prep for the Heart of Gold Auction is overwhelming her."
"Oh, that’s terrible," I say, injecting just the right amount of concern. "Is there anything I can do to help? I know I’m just a temp, but I’m very good at following instructions."
"That’s exactly what I told them," Gary says, looking like he thinks he’s a genius. "I told them, 'Martha is a machine. She doesn't complain, she doesn't need breaks, she just gets it done.' So, I volunteered you."
My heart kicks a rhythm against my ribs. Hook, line, and sinker.
"Volunteered me?"
"For the auction," Gary says, leaning closer, his halitosis hitting me full force. "We’re going to Napa, Martha. We head up on the 13th for setup. You’ll be a runner. Checking coats, directing traffic, making sure the champagne doesn't run dry.Basically, you’re the grease that keeps the wheels turning so the important people can bid on items they don't need."
"Napa?" I widen my eyes behind the thick lenses. "The estate?"
"The very one. It’s a huge opportunity. Overtime pay, plus you get to see how the other half lives."
This is it. The "In."
Thorne’s circle is tight, elite. But staff? Staff are invisible. Staff have access to the service corridors, the kitchen, the back rooms. Staff are the ghosts that can go almost anywhere.
"I... I don't know, Gary," I stammer, playing the part of the overwhelmed subordinate. "I don't have anything fancy to wear. And security..."
"Uniforms are provided," Gary interrupts dismissively. "Black slacks, white shirt. Boring stuff. And don't worry about security. I’ve already sent your file over to the team. Since you’re already in the system here, it’s just a formality."
"Oh. Well, if you think I can handle it..."
"You’ll be fine," Gary says, pushing off my cubicle. "Just don't embarrass me. We need to make sure Dr. Thorne has a perfect night to launch her new initiative."
"You can count on me, Gary! I'm excited for this opportunity."
He walks away, and I sink into my chair with a small, smug grin. Oh, I won't let him down. I’m going to make sure Dr. Thorne has a night she’ll never forget. Adrenalin has my hands starting to shake, just a little. I clasp them together under the desk, squeezing until my knuckles turn white.
I’ve been consumed by this goal for so fucking long and now it’s finally, finally going to happen. I’m in but now the reality sets in. I’ll be inside. I’ll be serving drinks to the woman who made my mom’s death so much worse. I’ll be walking the halls of the house built on the bones of people like my mom.
I look at the dark screen of my phone. I think about the warm Airbnb. I think about Damon’s calm intelligence, Marcus’s fearless charm and Andre’s solid strength. Yesterday, the thought of doing this alone felt right. It felt like the penance I had to pay to truly bring justice to my mom and all the other families that were made to suffer. Today? Today, the thought of having three sets of eyes watching my back, three brains helping me navigate the shark tank... it feels like oxygen.
I pull up the encrypted chat app Marcus installed on my phone.
Me:The fish took the bait. I’m confirmed as a runner for the Auction. Heading up on the 13th for setup.
