Just as I’m about to resign myself to another evening of sitcom reruns and pizza delivery, my laptop pings from across the room. Apparently, I’ve got mail. It’s barely been half an hour since I sent out my email to CrowdedNest, but as I glance at my inbox, I see that I’ve already gotten a response from them. Maybe it’s a form letter or something, letting me know that the position has already been filled?
I perch in front of my laptop, chewing on my fingernail as I anxiously open the new message.
Hi Keira,
Thank you so much for your email. The CrowdedNest team was very happy to receive it! You reached out at the perfect time, too. We were hoping to interview candidates in the next couple of days. You seem very well-suited for the job, and we’d love to meet you. I know it’s short notice, but are you available tomorrow for a casual interview at our Las Vegas office? Let us know and we’ll send along the details. Looking forward to hearing from you.
Cheers,
Kassie Bennett
“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god—” I squeal. “It’s happening. It’s really happening.”
Even The Mayor perks his ears up at my excitement. I send back a quick email confirming my interest and availability for tomorrow, and receive a time and location in no time. Everything is happening so fast—and it looks like this whole thing just got real. And even though I’m terrified, not knowing what tomorrow might hold, I’m ready to face this head-on. I have to proceed fearlessly. I don’t want Mitchell thinking he brought on the wrong person for this case, or for Bruno to think I can’t handle this myself.
I close my computer with a snap as I spot an incoming Gchat message from Milo. The last thing I need tonight is a lecture about what a mistake I’m making. No way. Tonight, it’s all about comfort before what’s sure to be a crazy big day.
“What do you say, Mayor?” I ask my furry roommate. “How does a pepperoni pie and a Friends marathon sound to you?”
I take his unflinching stare as permission to enjoy my last night of relative peace however I damn well please.
Chapter Five
“You really didn’t need to drive me over here,” I say to Mitchell as I unbuckle my seat belt. “This isn’t my first day of school.”
“But it is your first day as an undercover agent,” my boss replies from the driver seat of his sedan. “I wanted to make sure your nerves weren’t getting the best of you.”
“I’m fine,” I shrug, glancing out the window. It’s a complete and utter lie, of course. I’m totally freaking out. But Mitchell doesn’t need to know that.
“You look great,” he tells me. “Really pulling off the whole hipster chick thing.”
I glance down at my dark-wash skinny jeans, basic charcoal tank, slightly oversized cardigan, and lace-up boots. He’s got me on the hipster thing, I guess. Especially with my unruly curls and thick-rimmed glasses—a touch I stole right out of the Milo Beckett playbook. I figured this was my best bet to pass for a techie type.
“Tell me the truth, Mitchell,” I say. “How much of the reason why you chose me for this job is the way I look?”
“Truthfully? A lot of the reason,” he shrugs.
“Jesus,” I wince. “A little sugarcoating wouldn’t have killed you.”
“You want sugarcoating, go work for Willy Wonka,” he snaps. “Young, beautiful women get hired for these jobs in a heartbeat, especially when other young women are the ones hiring.”
“Is that a real statistic, or something you made up to justify bringing a pretty girl into your office?” I shoot back.
“Not important,” he says with a wink. “Look, I’m not trying to diminish your skills as a cyber intelligence agent. You’ve done awesome work in San Bernardino. But it doesn’t hurt that you look damn good, too. And I think you know it, Collins. Now can we quit arguing the finer points of institutionalized sexism and get on with the show?”
“That could be the title of the FBI training manual,” I mutter, darting out the passenger door before Mitchell can continue my talking-to.
I plant my feet on the Vegas sidewalk, craning my neck to see the tops of the buildings all around me. I’ve arrived at the address Kassie Bennett provided, but...this can’t be right. I’m looking up at a luxury high rise, with an affable-looking doorman and a golden, gleaming lobby. Not exactly the place I’d expect to find the offices of a tech startup. What’s the deal?
“Excuse me,” I say to the doorman, as I ease inside the glamorous building, “I’ve probably got the wrong address, but—”
“Who are you here to see, dear?” the man asks, all helpful earnestness.
“Kassie Bennett,” I tell him, “I have an interview with CrowdedNest—”
“Then you are, indeed, in the right place!” the doorman smiles, grabbing a gold-plated phone from behind the desk. He punches in a number and looks up at me, “What did you say your name was?”
I very nearly respond with “Quinn Collins”, catching myself just in time. This whole alias thing is going to take some getting used to.
“Keira Campbell,” I tell the man, covering as best I can.
“Afternoon, Ms. Bennett. This is Franklin,” the doorman says into the phone. “I have a Keira Campbell here to see you and Ms. Rodgers?” he pauses a moment, listening for her response, then says, “Wonderful. Thank you,” and hangs up the phone. “You can go right ahead,” Franklin says to me, waving toward the elevator bank.
“Which floor?” I ask.
“Just go all the way to the top,” he smiles.
I do what he says, stepping into the vintage-looking elevator and reminding myself to breathe as it carries me up into the sky. You can do this, Collins, just stay calm, I silently urge myself, You’re a trained, capable, cool-headed agent. Everything’s going to be OK. If only my racing heart and frantic mind would believe that. At least my gut’s telling me that I’m going to make it through this. And that’s all that matters in the end, right?
The elevator doors part with a smooth swish, and I step out onto a small, marbled landing. I’m flanked on either side by two identical, stately doors—the first gilded with a golden letter “A”, the second with an equally glitzy letter “B”. I raise an eyebrow at my elegant and totally unexpected surroundings.
“What is this, some kind of game show?” I mumble, looking back and forth between the doors. I’ve sure as hell never seen an office like this before. But then again, you never can tell with these startup types. Milo’s creative agency had beanbags instead of chairs and walls made entirely of white board. So I guess anything goes.