The building itself was fairly bland, save for the Pride flag twitching in the breeze. Phoebe quickened her pace to reach the door first. Inside, warm lighting and inviting velvet furniture filled the lobby, the walls adorned with paintings, as well as drawings done by children. It smelled like lemon and honey. An immediate sense of calm drifted through me, and I realized that was exactly the point of a place like this.
An older woman sat behind a mahogany desk, glasses perched at the tip of her nose. She looked up at our arrival, smiling. “Hello. What can I do for you?”
I glanced at Phoebe and Arden, who stared at me expectantly. So, I was actually doing the talking here.
“Hi,” I said, stepping up to the counter. “Um, we have a question. Sort of.”
“I’m happy to answer any questions you have.”
“It’s about someone who works here. Or worked here.” I winced. Years of parent-teacher conferences hadn’t prepared me for interrogating a stranger about her co-worker’s whereabouts. “Basically, we’re looking for someone, and we were hoping he might be here. Benji Dexter.”
The woman’s smile dropped. “I’m sorry,” she said, blinking several times. “You’re looking for Benji Dexter?”
“We have something for him,” I added quickly, casting aglance to Phoebe and Arden. They looked on, engrossed. “Mail. It came to our apartment by mistake. Or, not by mistake, but…” I cleared my throat, wishing this woman would stop looking at me like I’d asked to speak with a ghost. “We just want to make sure the letter gets to him.”
She threw an anxious glance over her shoulder. “Let me… One moment, please.”
She stood up and approached an open door to her right, ducking her head in and lowering her voice so we couldn’t hear. A different voice shrieked “WHAT? WHY?” loud enough to echo in the lobby.
“That’s foreboding,” Arden said. I cleared the tangle of nerves from my throat.
“We don’t know they’re talking about us.”
On cue, a blond woman appeared in the doorway with the receptionist, and both looked at us, expressions grim. My fingernails dug into my palms.
“This is weird.” Arden looked at me, anxiety overtaking the exhilaration. “It’s weird, right? I think I’m having a gut feeling. We’re about to be true crimed.”
“Stop,” I hissed.
“I mean,” Phoebe said, catching my eye. “It’s notnotweird.”
It was extremely weird. But I had to keep my shit together, so I rolled my shoulders and donned what I hoped was a casual, cool smile.Phoebe. This is for Phoebe.
The receptionist slipped away, veering to the other end of the building. Flashing us a tight smile, she held up a finger and disappeared through a blue door. The blonde remained in the doorway, watching us with wide eyes, and said, “She’ll be right back.”
Arden leaned to whisper in Phoebe’s ear, “They’re going to eat us, aren’t they?”
I took a step backward to join their huddle. “So, he’s here, right?”
“That or his name is a code for terrorism,” Arden replied.
“They’re, like,afraid,” Phoebe murmured, attention locked on the second door, waiting for the receptionist to emerge with or without Benji Dexter. “Maybe he’s a huge piece of shit.”
Arden hummed thoughtfully. “Would a huge piece of shit work for a nonprofit?”
“Uh, yeah. Absolutely,” Phoebe said.
“I don’t know. I think—”
A man emerged from the blue door, effectively sucking every decibel from the room. He had the kind of face that shuts down the possibility of a double take—a glance mindlessly shifted into an open-mouthed stare.
I decided he was 40 percent gorgeous, 60 percent intimidating. Olive skin, broad shoulders taut against a crisp white button-up tucked into slim charcoal trousers. I liked the juxtaposition of a polished outfit against the five o’clock shadow coating his angular jaw, crooked nose against a perfect face, thick brown hair finger combed carelessly. Dark, distrustful eyes pinned me into place. It was like a young Harrison Ford opted to go into the CIA instead of acting.
He stopped halfway to us, glowering. Suddenly, Arden’s theory about cannibalism didn’t seem so far off. It wasn’t until Phoebe pressed the letter into my palm that I remembered what we were doing here. Who thiswas.
I took a tentative step forward. “Benji Dexter?”
A muscle in his jaw jumped.
