“Oh, right. It’s bitter cold out.” I nod over my shoulder vaguely gesturing to “out.”
“You don’t have a coat?”
I tap my lapel. “Dress code. I don’t have an appropriate winter jacket that goes with this.”
I vigorously rub my right hand against my thigh, feeling the friction warm my stiff fingers through the thin fabric of my dress pants. Then I awkwardly transfer the bag to my other hand, the weight of The Detonator swinging slightly as I repeat theprocess, watching my pale knuckles gradually flush pink with returning circulation.
“Well, thank you.” She reaches for the bag, but I step back. No way I’m letting her open this until I offer an explanation. What that explanation is, I don’t know yet, but as soon as the puzzle pieces of this bizarre encounter settle, I’ll think of something.
She rolls her eyes. It’s brief, but I catch a glimpse of her annoyance. “You recognize me and now you want a tip, don’t you?”
“What?” I ask, genuinely confused.
Her smile turns sweet and warm. “It’sokay. I get it, truly. And you deserve one, freezing your tush out there to hand-deliver my box. Here, come on in.” She waves me into the penthouse then disappears down the hallway.
I enter the luxurious space, nearly tripping over my own feet when I spot the glossy black grand piano dominating the corner of the living room. Well, that explains the singing…I think. My brain is still buffering like dial-up internet. I’ve heard Charlie’s radio hits—all processed within an inch of their digital lives, sounding like an auto-tuned Alvin and the Chipmunks covering a Disney Channel soundtrack. I didn’t know she could singlike that.
Soft thuds on the hardwood floor alert me to Charlie’s return before she banks left in the hallway and returns to view, carrying a thick wad of cash in her left hand.
“Are you okay?” she asks, frowning at me now, head tilted once more. “You look kind of pale. Do you want some water or soda or something before you get going?”
Get going?Now I’m thoroughly convinced this is some sort of mix-up. But the edible has chosen this exact moment to hit a little harder, and all I can manage is: “You’reCharlie Riley,the pop star.”
She blinks. “Yes. We’ve established that. And you’re Taio, the courier my dad sent.” She holds over the wad of twenty-dollar bills and notices my surprise. “It’s okay. I’m feeling generous today. And I’m not kidding”—she points to the bag in my hand—“that is the most valuable possession I have. I thought I lost it. Thank you for returning it. Swap?” She wiggles the money in her hand, urging me to take it and to hand over the bag in exchange…
Courier? What the hell?
Oh, wait.
Are we role-playing?
Lots of celebrities book escorts under fake names. Maybe the entire passion party was some type of ruse and Charlie Riley wanted me here, with a toy so we could…play all night?
“Don’t you want the money?” She shifts her weight to her other foot, crossing her arms and suddenly looking at me suspiciously. I scan the room for hidden security team members, a little surprised this mega star is here alone. But of course—if Charlie hired me for what I think she hired me for, no way she’d want company for that.
This all makes sense now. Okay, it’s showtime.
“Oh, I want the money,” I answer, dropping my voice to a honey-sweet baritone. “But I want to earn it first. So, Charlie…or should I say,Margaret,what would you like to do tonight? It’s your choice but if the passion party was just an excuse, I’d still love to have dinner and get to know you a little better first before we move on to…dessert. If that’s what you want?”
She blinks at me like her eyelids are heavy. Her lips relax into a half-moon, almost a frown. “I know all of those were words, yet none of it made sense. I just want my package.”
I pump my brows at her. “Yourpackage?”
“Yes.” She points in the vague direction of my crotch. “Do you need a signature?”
I set down the bag and unbutton my sports coat so I have the freedom to cross my arms over my chest. “The deal you signed with Rina already bought my full discretion. You can trust me, I promise. I know you have status, but there’s no funny business here. Rina runs a very legitimate, professional business. Me, on the other hand? Well, let’s just say the real fun begins once I clock out.”
She squints one eye. “Rina is your boss?”
“Yes. She’s who you were texting about tonight.”
Charlie shakes her head. “No, that’d be my dad. He’s the one who hired you guys.”
Oh that’s pretty fucked up.“Yourdadhired me…for you?” I ask to clarify.
“Either him or my sister. She usually handles the admin stuff. She was his assistant for so long that I think it just stuck even after they got married.”
Full. Stop. I take a small step backward trying to collect my thoughts. I get it—I’ve encountered some freaky shit in my line of work, but this…this is next level.
