taught her how to text? I thought we all agreed that would be a bad idea. What's for dinner?"
"Don't know, but your mom suggested flambé for dessert," said Alice, laughing as she hung up.
"Ha-ha," I said, pulling a face at the screen.
"Hey, Lexi ..." said Lucas, behind me. I whipped around in my chair to face his uncharacteristically tidy desk, situated right behind mine. His desk, however, was twice the size and had an array of monitors. A large box sat on the floor beside it, serving as a reminder that our resident geek and cyber expert was moving to the floor upstairs, where Solomon was expanding the agency. Every time I thought about it, I felt put out that I wasn't in the know. I wondered if Fletcher, Flaherty, and Delgado felt the same, or if they did know. I couldn't ask them without showing I knew nothing. Damn it.
"Yes," I said, pre-empting him, "yes, I was on a date as part of a case and a man's hair caught on fire, but it was an accident. An accident!" My voice ended on an hysterical note and my lower jaw quivered. Though that could have been caused by sugar withdrawal, thanks to my current healthy eating phase, last night's pizza excluded.
"I only wanted to know if you wanted a coffee because I'm going to get one, but... really?" Lucas peered at me, and whispered, "On fire?"
I made a strangled noise and turned away. A moment later, I looked over my shoulder and said in my meekest voice, "Yes, please. Two sugars."
An hour, one coffee, and one filed report that didn't tell Solomon anything he didn't already know, later, and I was out of there. As I jogged down the steps to the underground garage, I wondered what it would be like to meet a real live English lord. Would I have to call him “Lord”? I could see that getting old really fast. I was pretty certain I didn't have to curtsy, but the rules around that one confused me. Plus, this country was a republic so... in his face! I thought about my experiences of Englishmen and aristocracy, while realizing that all my knowledge came from Downton Abbey , which probably didn’t help.
Arriving at the parking garage, I ignored my VW and headed straight for the Ferrari. After all, it was there to give a good impression — one that said “wealthy, please steal from me” — and there was a good chance Lord Camberwell might see me arrive at the restaurant, so my little car would just not cut it. Plus, the Ferrari was awesome to drive.
I slipped behind the wheel and took a moment to smell the delicious leather interior, while stroking the wheel. "My baby," I cooed at it. "Mommy loves you so much already." With a throaty purr, the engine fired up and I reversed on a curve, throwing it into drive and accelerating towards the exit.
There was no need to head to the Chilton house — that would only become a necessity if I were being picked up or returned "home," or if I invited someone back. There was no way I would invite a stranger and potential thief "home" for "coffee" until I was sure they were going to try something more exciting and illegal than putting the moves on me. Instead, I headed to my real home, parking the Ferrari in my usual spot next to Lily's Mini.
After unlocking the communal front door, I found it only opened a fraction of the way so I had to suck it in, bump it, and edge through sideways, only to be confronted with a stack of packing boxes. An attractive man made his way down the stairs, another box in hand, which he stacked on top of the rest.
"Hi," I said, sizing up the stranger and wondering who he was. Were most movers this cute? "Who are you?"
He gave me an equally puzzled look. "Jake. I live upstairs."
"Upstairs, upstairs?" I pointed upstairs, just to clarify. Also: where? The apartment above me had been empty since the last tenant left
"Don't know, but your mom suggested flambé for dessert," said Alice, laughing as she hung up.
"Ha-ha," I said, pulling a face at the screen.
"Hey, Lexi ..." said Lucas, behind me. I whipped around in my chair to face his uncharacteristically tidy desk, situated right behind mine. His desk, however, was twice the size and had an array of monitors. A large box sat on the floor beside it, serving as a reminder that our resident geek and cyber expert was moving to the floor upstairs, where Solomon was expanding the agency. Every time I thought about it, I felt put out that I wasn't in the know. I wondered if Fletcher, Flaherty, and Delgado felt the same, or if they did know. I couldn't ask them without showing I knew nothing. Damn it.
"Yes," I said, pre-empting him, "yes, I was on a date as part of a case and a man's hair caught on fire, but it was an accident. An accident!" My voice ended on an hysterical note and my lower jaw quivered. Though that could have been caused by sugar withdrawal, thanks to my current healthy eating phase, last night's pizza excluded.
"I only wanted to know if you wanted a coffee because I'm going to get one, but... really?" Lucas peered at me, and whispered, "On fire?"
I made a strangled noise and turned away. A moment later, I looked over my shoulder and said in my meekest voice, "Yes, please. Two sugars."
An hour, one coffee, and one filed report that didn't tell Solomon anything he didn't already know, later, and I was out of there. As I jogged down the steps to the underground garage, I wondered what it would be like to meet a real live English lord. Would I have to call him “Lord”? I could see that getting old really fast. I was pretty certain I didn't have to curtsy, but the rules around that one confused me. Plus, this country was a republic so... in his face! I thought about my experiences of Englishmen and aristocracy, while realizing that all my knowledge came from Downton Abbey , which probably didn’t help.
Arriving at the parking garage, I ignored my VW and headed straight for the Ferrari. After all, it was there to give a good impression — one that said “wealthy, please steal from me” — and there was a good chance Lord Camberwell might see me arrive at the restaurant, so my little car would just not cut it. Plus, the Ferrari was awesome to drive.
I slipped behind the wheel and took a moment to smell the delicious leather interior, while stroking the wheel. "My baby," I cooed at it. "Mommy loves you so much already." With a throaty purr, the engine fired up and I reversed on a curve, throwing it into drive and accelerating towards the exit.
There was no need to head to the Chilton house — that would only become a necessity if I were being picked up or returned "home," or if I invited someone back. There was no way I would invite a stranger and potential thief "home" for "coffee" until I was sure they were going to try something more exciting and illegal than putting the moves on me. Instead, I headed to my real home, parking the Ferrari in my usual spot next to Lily's Mini.
After unlocking the communal front door, I found it only opened a fraction of the way so I had to suck it in, bump it, and edge through sideways, only to be confronted with a stack of packing boxes. An attractive man made his way down the stairs, another box in hand, which he stacked on top of the rest.
"Hi," I said, sizing up the stranger and wondering who he was. Were most movers this cute? "Who are you?"
He gave me an equally puzzled look. "Jake. I live upstairs."
"Upstairs, upstairs?" I pointed upstairs, just to clarify. Also: where? The apartment above me had been empty since the last tenant left
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