I share with him the parts I deem most relevant, keeping out some of the details. This is a risk, but it’s also an opportunity, depending on what he can tell us. He listens intently, nodding and humming.
Once I am done, he volunteers what he knows, starting with things he’d noticed about some of the VIPs.
This could really work. I’m convinced of that.
And if it doesn’t?
Well, then I’ll simply knock him out and hope that Hex’s hacking skills will be enough to save the day once more.
22
Hex
Mongissuperhelpful.He tells us all the strange things he’s noticed about the rich people he serves every evening. Take Laurel, for example, who’s the CEO of one of Europe and Africa’s biggest electricity suppliers. He doesn’t like red wine, and he also goes home with one of three female servers every night.
“We’ll talk more once we are back,” Aran says, urging me toward the door.
It’s time to meet up with Eleanor and he’s gotten a little antsy. It’s normal—he might appear calm most of the time, but that’s only because of the preparations he usually undertakes beforehand. As this development happened only last night and he wasn’t part of it, there wasn’t much he could do, hence his foul-ish mood.
But well, I still love him, andsquee, we are totally a thing now.
We arrive at the taco restaurant just before one p.m. If it was up to me, we’d be ten minutes later since I don’t like to wait, but Aran insisted he needed to scout the area and make sure this wasn’t a trap.
Surprise, surprise, there was no one suspicious. He wasn’t a fan when I pointed out that I told him so, but I also got to see his trademark eye roll, so I call it a win.
“See, waking up Mong was a good idea,” I say, slurping on the orange slushie I got from the taco place. After I gave the staff Eleanor’s name, they took us to a semi-secluded, but cozy corner where she’d booked us a table. “We now know that half the VIPs like to roll in bed with the staff.”
Aran slides a hand through his hair, then reties his manbun. A few locks escape him and hang over his cheeks, giving him a messier look that reminds me of those bad boy protagonists you often see in anime. It’s really sexy.
“We do, but whether we can take advantage of that information is a different matter altogether.”
He’s been scheming in his head since the morning. Or it might have started last night, even. It’s just how he is, but it also means that he’s quieter than usual, which makes me prone to get bored. I’d mess with him—especially now that I am allowed to touch him—but I don’t want to distract him too much.
I peek at the time on my phone and huff out in slight irritation. It’s already one twenty, so where is Eleanor? She said she’d be here at one, and I know for a fact she is free since I cloned her phone. She hasn’t used it since we spoke last night, after checking her emails and blocking out her timetable for lunch, but, I mean, if she’s busy putting together my contract to work for Mrs. Lynx, it makes sense, right?
I don’t have access to her laptop, so, obviously, I can’t be one hundred percent sure it’s that she’s been busy with, but logically, the chances are quite high. And if not, then I bet she’s organizing another party, because from what Mong told us, last night wasn’t the first time the Lynxes have thrown one.
After a further ten minutes pass and there is no sign of Eleanor, concern begins to worm its way through me. She was super nice, and she was genuinely happy to hang out with me. I can’t explain how I know it, but this is something that you just feel. So, as I watch the restaurant’s head chef line up corn shells and fill them with delicious-smelling ground beef right from the sizzling grill, my stomach sinks, and not because I’m hungry.
I just can’t see why she would stand me up like this. If she couldn’t make it, surely she’d let me know somehow—it’s not that hard to call the restaurant and cancel the reservation or leave a note for me.
“Aran. Something’s off. Eleanor should’ve been here half an hour ago.”
“Are you sure you got the place and time right?” my dream man and future husband says flatly, still very much focused on whatever evil plan he’s putting together in his head.
Now, it is true that I have a track record of getting things wrong, like that time when we were supposed to meet up at the Hanzo Aquarium, but instead I went to the Hanko Atrium in central Nagoya. It’s the same problem I have with faces and names—things like these just don’t stick in my brain.
But this is important and the success of our mission could well depend on it. So I took foolproof precautions.
I unlock my phone and load the notes app, shoving the device in Aran’s face. “I didn’t get it wrong. Look. It says right here—tomorrow, one p.m, taco restaurant.”
Aran glimpses at my phone. Just as I think he might argue with me, he nods. “Maybe something urgent came up, and she didn’t have time to cancel the booking?” he muses, patting me on the head. It stops the stress from further spreading through me. “I wouldn’t worry about it just yet.”
He’s probably right. Mrs. Lynx hasn’t called to invite me for dinner yet either, and with how excited she seemed to have my company so far, I find that a little strange too, which means that Aran’s onto something. Maybe the Lynxes had some business stuff to take care of and they needed Eleanor’s help.
Yep, that’s gotta be it.
“I guess I should put us back on the roster for today, then,” I inform Aran and make the necessary arrangement. I’ve been tweaking our schedules as I see fit, but we do have to show up to work from time to time or someone might notice. “At least until Mrs. Lynx calls and invites me to hang out.”
