It felt like a study group. To Zoey’s surprise, Claire wasted no time goofing around on her phone or flipping on a movie, like Zoey had to admit she would have done at seventeen. She pulled out a biology text, and proceeded to read about gene sequencing. Zoey, who had moved on to the part of her afternoon that involved writing click bait that she prayed her mother never read, but paid by the word. There was a not insignificant part of her that wanted to suggest nail wraps and facials, even though she couldn’t remember the last time she’d
It was relaxing. It was calm. It was something she hadn’t had too much of in the last few days.
She kept waiting for her phone to start ringing with reporters, calling to ask how much tongue Alex had used outside of the restaurant, and what had happened after they’d gotten in the car. There were plenty of times she’d been the one making those calls, to get the story, paying off a friend or a disgruntled coworker to get someone’s cell phone number. She wasn’t sure if it spoke well of her that no one was calling, or poorly. After all, she was hardly the type of woman that Alex was usually paired with in the tabloid press. He was usually seen with women who were tall, busty, leggy, gorgeous, powerful—Zoey couldn’t pretend that she was any of those things.
But she was herself, and he seemed to like that fine. At least, he hadn’t called and told her to get out. That was a plus.
When Sophia found out that Claire was home, she clucked her tongue, but made both of them roast beef wraps, piled with hummus and cucumbers and radishes. They were amazing.
Shortly after that, Alex sent a text, asking if Claire was at the house. Zoey tried not to be obvious when she replied that the girl was there. It was still well within school hours. Alex didn’t respond, though, other than to say he’d be home in a few hours.
She liked that he said home. That part was pretty awesome.
Any word from Cindy? She asked.
His reply was quick. She’s very concerned, he wrote. Someone may have threatened her.
Should I call her?
Not sure if it will help.
Zoey thought about it for a little while, and then excused herself. Claire nodded. She’d moved on to calc now, and was lost in equations. She tapped Cindy’s contact, and waited for the call to connect.
It took all five rings for Cindy to pick up. Zoey was just composing the voice mail as the ringing stopped, and Zoey heard the quiet non-sound of the open line. “Cindy?” she asked, keeping her voice soft and quiet.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” Cindy replied. She sounded nothing like the calm, collected woman that Zoey had spoken to that morning. “I’m sorry I ever brought anything up. Tell Alex, please, that I won’t ever make a claim on anything. I’m just—I’m going to vanish now. They won, okay? Everything’s done. Me, the kids—we’ll all vanish. I’ll make sure of it. You won’t ever hear from us again. Whoever he sicked on us, just tell them to stop.” The words tumbled out fast, blurring together.
“Hold on, hold on,” Zoey blustered, managing to get the woman to quiet down for a moment. There was a thickness to her breathing; she suspected that Cindy was crying. “He didn’t send anyone after you, Cindy. I promise.” Could she make that promise? Did she know him that well? She choked down the doubt and pushed forward. “I’ve been here all day, researching to find more ammunition to help the board make the right choice about how to move forward with AEGIS. You’re part of that.”
“I don’t care,” Cindy said. Her voice was cooler, more collected, but Zoey didn’t have to listen too hard to hear the terror. Whoever had gotten to her had done their job very well. “If I ever hear from either you or your fuck-toy again, Ms. Gardener, I will call the police and my lawyers. He’s not the only one who knows the police commissioner.”
The call dropped, and Zoey stood still for a while, staring at the phone. There had been so much venom in the woman’s voice, at the end. It made Zoey’s stomach flip over. Who could have gotten to her? What could they possibly have said? How would they even have known that there was a conversation to be had? Maybe someone had seen her in his car at the AEGIS building?
She shook her head, not sure what to do next, but as she turned back to the door of the den, she saw Claire standing much closer to her than she’d expected. The girl was barefoot, and she’d moved like a ghost—or else, Cindy had been screaming so loudly that Zoey hadn’t noticed anything else. Which meant that Claire might very well have overheard some of what was said.
The girl looked—not afraid, but certainly nervous. Certainly concerned. “What’s going on?”
Zoey started to sputter, and Claire held up a hand to forestall her. Zoey found herself staring at the narrow bangles that Claire wore around her right wrist. They tumbled down to her elbow, jangling against each other. Somehow, the detail fixed in her mind as she stared.
“Don’t tell me that I’m too young, or that it’s nothing to be worried about. You’re not Alex’s type, even with your smoking hot ass, but you’re here. He never brings people here, and I can count the number of his girlfriends that I’ve met on a closed fist, you know? There’s something a lot more going on than the two of you banging, and if it affects Alex, it affects me. I want to know what the hell is up.”
The girl was fierce, Zoey had to give her that much credit. Her chin was stubborn and strong, even though her eyes were nervous. “You need to talk to him,” Zoey said.
“He’s not here. You are.” The set of the girl’s chin got just a little more stubborn. “Talk to me, Zoey. Please.”
It was the ‘please’ that did Zoey in. She crossed her fingers that Alex would understand why she was about to do what she was about to do. “How much do you know about your dad?” she asked, leading the young woman back to the sofa where all their work was laid out.
“He was a jerk,” Claire said, without any of the sadness that Zoey would have expected from a young woman whose father had recently passed away. But then, given the way Alex talked about the man, it seemed like the press had, for once, characterized him properly as a scumbag. Just a very, very wealthy one. “He cheated on Mom all the time, and he wasn’t ever home.” Claire gave Zoey a long, level look. “Are you going to tell me I have a bunch of half siblings? Because I figured out the odds on that one a long time back.”
In a weird way, it was a relief not to have to explain that one detail to the girl. Everything else was easier, in its own way. “It may be true. It seems like someone thinks so. And it seems like someone may be targeting them.”
The girl nodded. “Is Alex in danger?” She didn’t ask about herself; Zoey found that interesting. She couldn’t think of too many seventeen year old girls who would have asked about their brothers before they’d asked about themselves. But then, Alex was the perfect age to have been Claire’s protector and hero throughout their childhoods, especially with their father absent and—as the girl had said—basically a jerk.
“I don’t think so,” Zoey said, truthfully. “And I don’t think you are, either.”
“And that’s why you’re here. To try and help him figure out what’s going on with these kids of my dad’s?”
“It’s part of it. There’s also some weird things going on at the company. It may be that the two weirdnesses are tied together somehow.”
Claire nodded, wearing the sage look that only teenagers were naive enough to pull off well. “Occam’s razor,” she said.
“Yes.”
“Are you going to leave when this is all sorted out?”
It was delightful, the idea that it could just all be sorted with a wave of a wand. “I have no idea right now, Claire, to tell you the God’s honest truth. Alex and I—this is very new.”
Claire snorted. “Yeah, no joke. The gossip sites are eating it up, too. He’s been seen a million times with a million girls, but he never makes out with anyone on the street.” She raised an eyebrow. “I’m impressed, actually.”
Zoey had to laugh. “I don’t know if I should say thank you or not.”
“I think,” Claire said, with a certain weight deliberation, “That you should show me your music.”
“What?”
“I think you can’t get to know a person until you know what they like to listen to. I played you mine. Show me what you’ve got on your phone.”
As acceptance rituals went, Zoey thought she could probably handle this one all right.