An Honest Living Read online

  I looked at Grace and she winked at me. “It is?”

  Grey was up and facing the window before I could blink. I tried to get a look at his face from the reflection, but a smudge on the glass obscured him. Is he planning these things?

  “It’s very good,” he continued. “I see a lot of potential in you, Lane. Your talents may not be the flashiest, or even the most practical, but it’s dead useful in the right circumstances. Given the right tools and opportunity, you could make a name for yourself quickly. It’s a shame the competition didn’t see that, but it’s their loss. Wouldn’t you agree?”

  I nodded like an idiot, but Grey seemed to see me anyway. Or maybe he sensed me. Did he have that kind of Talent?

  “I’m glad we see eye to eye,” he said to me via the window.

  “Tell him the good news, dad,” Grace urged him, smiling.

  I tried to play it cool, but I probably wasn’t doing a very good job. Good news could only mean one thing.

  “Ah, right,” he said, clapping his hands together. “There’s an open position on our acquisitions team and we think you’re the man for the job. You’re being promoted.”

  Okay, that wasn’t what I thought it meant, but it if it meant I could say goodbye to peanuts and fish forever, I wasn’t about to complain.

  I chuckled. “Trust me, Mr. Grey, that is the best news I’ve heard in awhile.”

  I gave Grace a silent look of gratitude. When I turned back, Grey was sitting at his desk again with my file in front of his face.

  “Glad to hear it,” he replied. “Report here on Monday for your first day.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Grey,” I said, standing from my chair. He took one hand off of the magazine to shake mine. I couldn’t help but catch a whiff of his musky scent. Sandalwood and cinnamon, if I’m not mistaken.

  “Welcome to the team, Lane,” he said, signaling the end of the conversation.

  I followed Grace out of his office and into the reception area.

  “What do you think?” she asked me eagerly when we were alone.

  “I think it’s great,” I said with a big smile, but Grace saw right through me.

  “Don’t worry, big guy. I think there might be another offer from dad on the table. If you play your cards right.” She gave me an exaggerated wink.

  “I could kiss you right now,” I said, grinning even wider than I was after my first flight not long before.

  She gave me a playful look. “Then why don’t ya?”

  I bent down and laid one on her. She wrapped her arms around my neck and I just couldn’t help it. I wrapped mine around her and lifted her out of her chair. And then, get this, I spun her around. Like some cheesy dope from a movie. She laughed and held her arms out wide. It would have made for a pretty good shot if this was a movie, I have to say.

  I put her down even though I didn’t want to, and sighed with relief.

  “I hope you don’t take offense to this,” I began, but she put a hand up to stop me.

  “You’re going to say he and I look exactly alike right?”

  “Maybe?” I was actually going to comment on how weird it was that I could never see his face, but maybe it was better if I didn’t.

  “I get that all the time,” she admitted.

  “Interesting,” I said slowly. “Anyway, what now?”

  “I was thinking,” began Grace, “that we could go up to the roof and do a victory lap around the city.”

  “Oh, yeah,” I nodded with zeal. “I was thinking like ice cream of something. But let’s do your thing. That sounds way more fun.”

  She giggled. “Ice cream after?”

  “That was implied, yeah.”

  THIRTEEN

  Sundays are for froyo.

  Frozen yogurt, for those of you not living in this decade.

  Sunday is the perfect day to get a nice tasty bowl of your favorite froyo flavor buried in a mountain of your favorite toppings. Don’t try to argue this point. I don’t make the rules, I just abide by them. Okay, yes, anyone can get froyo any day of the week, that is true, but the optimal day to enjoy such a wonderful frozen treat is Sunday. The weekend is winding down, the work week is rapidly approaching, and the perfect transition is a creamy bowl of sugary sweetness.

  I had nothing else going on that day, but my first day in a new job was on the horizon. Wait, scratch that. The first day of my new life was on the horizon. I wasn’t going to start it off on the wrong foot by not getting some froyo the night before. Even if I did have to do it alone. Froyo is a treat that can be enjoyed alone or with friends. That’s the magic of froyo.

  Are you sick of hearing me say froyo yet?

  There weren’t many people inside Ice Queen’s Froyo Palace at this time of night. So close to closing time, I’m not surprised. Used to be I wouldn’t go near a business associated with a ‘Fig - sorry, Bennie - because I didn’t want the other side getting my money, but now that I was standing on the precipice of ‘Fig-dom - damn it, Bennie - myself, I figured it was best I let that go. Besides, Ice Queen makes a much better froyo than that stupid Killer Kold’s Kastle of Froyo. However, I think we can all agree that these business names are truly abysmal.

  I grabbed a paper cup - the bigger size because, let’s be honest, those small cups are a joke to a guy like me - and looked over my options. Lot of great choices. Cotton candy, cookies & creme, mint chocolate chip, wedding cake, white chocolate raspberry, orange dreamsicle, vanilla, and everyone’s least favorite, plain tart. Most people think you just get what sounds yummy and then throw some other yummy stuff on top of it, but there’s a subtle science to pairing flavor to toppings.

  Anything rich and full bodied, like chocolate or brownie batter, needs subtle toppings like graham cracker crumbles or white chocolate chips. Fruits and fruity candies are strictly off limits, unless, of course, you’re adding cherries. That’s a no brainer. If you want to go with something a little more off the wall like sour apple or, say, tutti frutti, you want to go with something like chocolate chips or hot fudge to mellow out the base flavor and give it more substance. Of course, there are some flavors like cotton candy or sorbets that require no toppings because nothing pairs with them at all.

  For me, there’s only one real option as a base flavor: vanilla. I know, everybody says “vanilla is so boring.” And yes, that’s true. That’s the point of vanilla. It’s benign. It’s the perfect backdrop for literally any topping because it goes with anything. Want peanut butter cups and hot fudge? What about gummy bears, rainbow sprinkles and marshmallows? Vanilla is the answer. It provides the perfect avenue for topping flavors to explode all over your eager palette, complimenting them perfectly.

  And now I realize how long I’ve been talking about froyo flavor/topping combinations, and I regret nothing. It’s one of the few things in this world that I’m truly passionate about.

  Anyway, I loaded up with a hearty swirl of vanilla and moved onto the topping bar. I’m a fruity kind of guy. I rarely opt in for the chocolate options. It’s not my style. I dropped a couple scoops of gummy bears in and chased them with some fruity jurassic-themed cereal flakes before dousing the whole thing with marshmallow creme and hot caramel. Topped it all off with whipped cream and dropped the cup on the scale.

  26.2 ounces. Hmm...low for me.

  At forty cents an ounce plus tax, I forked over twelve bucks and dropped the change in the tip jar. There was still about twenty minutes before the store closed, so I took a seat in a plastic chair that looked like it came from a spaceship and relaxed to enjoy my celebratory treat. Almost as soon as my butt hit the seat, Blaze came streaking up on her skates and came to a stop in front of the store. She spotted me through the window and waved before coming inside.

  “‘Sup, Lane,” she greeted me. The teenage girl working the register looked a little put out by the scorch marks Blaze left in her wake, but was definitely too afraid to say anything to the Mal that just walked through the door.

  “How’d you find me?” I aske
d, taking a bite of perfectly balanced flavor.

  Blaze shrugged. “It’s Sunday.”

  “Touché,” I said, and took another bite. “What’s up?”

  Blaze leaned back in her chair as far as the stiffly formed plastic would allow.

  “Take wants us to hit the Maxima City Arena tonight,” she told me, pulling her phone out and scrolling through her emails. “Supposed to be some huge concert there tonight. I didn’t see you on the emails though. Figured you’d want to come along.”

  I shook my head. “I guess word hasn’t spread around just yet. I quit. I’m not a Mal anymore.”

  Roller Blaze chuckled. “Good one. Anyway, it’s going down in like an hour. Just enough time to fool around in the bathroom if you want.”

  I took another bite and then held up my spoon. “Can’t help ya,” I said, then added, “On either part.”

  Her expression slowly changed from mildly amused to confused as the gears in her head processed my words.

  “What are you even talking about?”

  “I quit, Jane,” I reiterated between bites. “I don’t work for the Coalition of Evil anymore. Or Winfield Enterprises.”

  She shot to her feet.

  “When the hell did this happen?”

  I shrugged. “Few days ago. Give or take.”

  “And you didn’t bother telling me?”

  “I didn’t realize you were someone who wanted regular updates on my life,” I told her.

  “You don’t think a boyfriend should tell his girlfriend when he makes a major life change?” she said, fuming. Literally. There was smoke coming out her ears.

  It was my turn to be confused. “Boyfriend? Since when am I your boyfriend? We don’t even hang out that often and you’ve slept with a bunch of other people since we’ve known each other. So have I.”

  “Of course, because we have an open relationship,” she countered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “That doesn’t mean we aren’t a couple.”

  I gave her a nod of concession. “Well I’m afraid I have some bad news then. I think we should see other people. Or, rather, we should stop seeing each other while we see other people. Sorry.”

  Blaze took in a deep breath. A bead of sweat ran down my temple. She was heating up.

  “It’s okay,” she said, talking more to herself than to me. “We can get through this. So you quit. No big deal. We’ll find you a new gig. At least you’re not a ‘Fig.”

  Well this is awkward.

  “I guess I have some more bad news then,” I said, making a face.

  Blaze closed the distance between us, and I could feel the heat coming off of her. She looked at me with literal fire in her eyes. This was it. This was how I was going to die.

  “What. Did. You. Do?”

  I gave her a weak smile. “I kind of...switched sides.”

  I closed my eyes and waited for the fireball to hit me. I was invincible, but I’m pretty sure I was still flammable. My clothes were at least. Nothing came though. I heard a sizzle and opened my eyes. Blaze had her finger in my froyo. When she pulled it out, all that was left was lukewarm soup.

  “Not cool!” I shouted after her as she bolted for the door. “I probably deserved that but, still, it was not cool.”

  When she was gone, I felt the eyes of every person in the room on me.

  “Sorry about that,” I told the girl at the register. I tossed my soupy mess into the trash can and then dropped a twenty in the tip jar. “That was probably mostly my fault.”

  With my Sunday froyo ritual ruined, I decided to just head home and get a good night’s sleep. I had a big day tomorrow.

  I just hoped my apartment was still standing when I got there.

  FOURTEEN

  “Psst. Bro.”

  I sighed.

  “Dude, look over here,” Brad said in hushed tones for what felt like the millionth time of the day. What was truly frustrating was that there was no way to ignore him. He’d only keep bugging me until I gave in.

  “What now, Brad?” I said, leaning over past the partition separating our desks.

  On Brad’s screen was a very pretty young woman’s profile from a dating site. She was not wearing much and her pose left little to the imagination. I couldn’t tell what was making my skin crawl more, the fact that he was comfortable looking at these things at work or that he was so comfortable doing it that he thought I wanted to be involved.

  “What about this one?” he said eagerly. “She looks like she’s into some crazy stuff.”

  “Isn’t this the same thing you got fired for over at Winfield?” I asked him, leaning back to my side.

  “No,” he said, shaking his head vehemently. “This is what your sister got me fired for.”

  All true. Lisa reported Brad’s internet usage which in turn found him in the unemployment line. Apparently he didn’t have to wait too long before getting the same kind of gig with Grey Corp. He must have lied at some point during the interview process, otherwise I doubt he would have been so lucky. It was my stroke of extreme misfortune to end up getting a desk next to him.

  “I’m messaging her,” he said determinedly.

  I sighed again and shook my head. Some people never learn.

  “Hey, Lane,” someone said from my other side. I looked over to find my new boss standing next to my desk.

  Melanie Gosling was a pretty alright person so far. Typical middle management kind of lady. Liked to see good numbers and cheesy motivational posters, but didn’t mind grabbing a drink with the team after work every now and then. At least that’s what she claimed. If she was true middle management then she hated everything about her position in life and was teetering on the edge between getting a promotion and mental breakdown.

  “Hey, Mel,” I greeted her using her preferred nomenclature. “What can I do for you?”

  “Big boss wants to talk to you,” she informed me, looking a bit like she was saying her last words to me. “All the way upstairs.”

  “Ooooooh,” Brad chimed in. Eavesdropping. Of course. “Mr. Grey will see you now, Lane. First day and you’re already in trouble.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Thanks, Mel. I’ll head on up.”

  She left and I got up from my desk.

  “I’ll try to find out if this one has a friend to cheer you up after you get fired,” Brad laughed.

  “I’d really rather you didn’t,” I told him. “I’m partial to the fact that I’ve never had a disease.”

  The elevators weren’t far from my desk, but one of the benefits of being the richest guy in the world is being able to make it really inconvenient for people to get to you. There was only one elevator that went all the way up to Grey’s office and you could only get to it by going down to the ground floor, getting a special badge from security, and then going all the way back up. It was a real pain in the butt, but if it got me away from Brad’s skeezy ass, I was fine with the hassle. Still, I wish I had a super pretty girl in a suit of battle armor to carry me up there.

  After an unnecessarily complex screening at security, I had a badge and I was rocketing upward toward the Grey Executive Suite. Maybe it was just me, but it actually seemed like this private elevator rode smoother and faster than the other elevators in the building. The elevator music was even legit music, not the corny Muzak knock offs in most elevators. This was like the Cadillac of elevator cars.

  The doors opened up on the familiar reception area. This time there was an actual receptionist sitting at the ultra-modern desk. He was a young guy, probably younger than me. Clean shaven, hair gelled, tie knot so precise it could kill you. When he saw me, he stood and bowed like some kind of psychopath.

  “Mr. Grey is waiting for you, Mr. Raskin,” he said professionally and returned to his seat.

  That seemed...pointless.

  “Thanks,” I said to him as I headed into Grey’s office.

  When I entered Grey’s expansive office, I didn’t find Wayne Grey, but I did find a different Grey famil
y member I was much happier to see.

  “What are you doing here?” I asked Grace as she spun her chair around to greet me. “They said your dad wanted to meet with me.”

  “He does,” she said, with a sly expression on her face. “Or at least someone does. Do me a favor, just act surprised.”

  Before I could ask what she meant, a panel in the wall nearest us slid open to reveal Nocturno in all his purple glory. It was the first time I’d seen Grey without something blocking his face and yet I still couldn’t see what he looked like. Just the area around his eyes and mouth. His six-pack was on display as always. If I was shredded like him, I’d probably be showing it off too.

  “Welcome, Mr. Raskin,” he said in his trademark Nocturno voice that was just like his normal voice but after a rough cold. His heavy boots clunked on the expensive hardwood as he approached us. “I know you were expecting Wayne Grey, but I have news for you…I am Wayne Grey.”

  I glanced at Grace and got what she meant. Grey was still harboring under the delusion that his secret identity was a well-kept secret.

  “Oh,” I said, feigning shock. “I had no idea!”

  “How’s your first day going?” he asked me.

  “Can’t complain,” I admitted.

  “Good,” said Nocturno. He tried to nod but it seemed like the suit made that a little difficult. “Perhaps I can make it even better.”

  I was hesitant to let myself get too excited. I mean, sure, the guy was “outing” himself as Nocturno and if it was anyone else revealing their secret identity I’d probably know exactly where the conversation was going, but this was Wayne Grey, so it was just as likely he just wanted to show off some new ab enhancements.

  “I want to offer you a position with the Liberty Gang. Low level at first until we can get you set up for success, but I can promise quick advancement. What do you say?”