“To prepare ourselves to stalk some poor maid and her daughter.”
Andrea winces, scrunching her nose. “If she isn’t willing to help us out, we’ll need to move on to someone else, or find another way to get the laptop.”
“I’m not sure how we can do that, aside from breaking and entering.”
“I guess it’s a good thing we have access to that penthouse’s security system, then. Maybe we’ll find a way to get in and out undetected.”
“Planning on becoming a cat burglar, are we?” I ask, quirking an eyebrow up.
“Let’s just say I’m ready to do anything to take that man down.”
“Me too, freckles. Me too…”
Chapter 31
In my family, we’re much more into soccer than we are into football. In fact, in the household we grew up in, what we call footballissoccer. I haven’t been to a match in forever, though, and never to one that involves teams of teenage girls.
As Lex and I arrive at the bottom of the bleachers with our Cokes and hot dogs, I’m a little excited to be here. Two dozen girls are running around on synthetic grass that has known better days, and their coaches are shouting instructions in both Spanish and English, spurring them on. This isn’t how I’d choose to spend my Saturday afternoon, but it’s still nice. We’re in New York, the sun is shining, and we’re incognito. We tried not to overdo it, so we have sunglasses and caps, with the most average outfit we could come up with—jeans, light T-shirts, and dark jackets.
We scan the few people already seated, looking for the one face we might know. Lex spots her first, pushing his elbow into me. “There,” he says.
I look up at him to see the direction he’s staring in and follow it. Yes! He’s right, that’s Paola, top right of the bleachers, somehow isolated. Inconspicuously, we walk in her direction. There aren’t that many spectators, so a lot of seats are empty. Sitting right next to her would be suspicious, so we settle down on the two spots in front of her. My heart is drumming, adrenaline burning through my veins.
This feels like some movie shit, not real life. We’re about to approach a woman and convince her to spy on her boss for us. To potentially steal for us, even.
My eyes are on the field, but my attention isn’t. It’s lost inward, in my thoughts, trying to figure out how the fuck we could spark a conversation with her.
The opportunity comes about twenty minutes after we’ve sat down, when a player tackles her daughter, who was about to score a goal.Behind us, Paola stands up and shouts, calling for a red card in Spanish. When nothing comes of it but a free kick, she protests some more, calling the referee an “¡Incompetente de mierda!”
I twist around, grabbing my chance and say, “That was definitely a foul,” in Spanish as well. “That girl should have been carded.”
“Thank you! Yes!”
Lex tenses up next to me, but I ignore him to continue with, “Your daughter plays very well, by the way.”
“She’s the best on her team. Yours is playing, too?”
“Oh, no, my husband and I are only here out of curiosity,” I explain, resting a hand on Lex’s tense shoulder. We’ve been wearing the rings again for our cover. Lex twists around as well to offer Paola a nod.
“Out of curiosity?” she repeats suspiciously, wondering why two adults would attend a random teen match like this.
“We’re considering moving into this neighborhood,” I lie.
For the following moments, I maneuver the conversation in the direction that leads to me being able to ask what she does for a living. Three minutes in, I even move up one row to sit next to her so we can chat and watch. But to be honest, the football match becomes background noise as I sneak my way into Paola’s trust. When she tells me about her job as a maid, I ask if her salary is enough to live in New York.
“It’s not easy, but my husband and I make do.”
I nod, glance at Lex, whose focus is forward, and turn again to ask, “What would you do for ten thousand dollars?”
She frowns, troubled by my question. “What do you mean?”
“Would you be willing to share some information about your employer for that kind of cash?”
Her confusion turns into distrust, and she sits up in her seat, eyes going left and right as she tries to figure out what’s happening. “What is this? A test? Did he send you to test me?”
“No, Becker didn’t send us. We’re here of our own volition.”
“How do you know who I work for?”
