I looked over at Corey’s—the real Corey’s—doppelganger. Felix didn’t look much like Corey—he was shorter, fairer-skinned, and lighter-haired—but he had the exact same supercilious sneer that privilege seemed to beget. His colleague Arlo—taller, more flashily suited and accessorized, with dark brown skin and black hair—seemed slightly less odious, though since he’d arrived, he hadn’t taken his eyes and/or ears off his phone for more than a few seconds.
“Max sends his regards,” I said, once again shouting over the noise of the wind and the engine as I guided the Porsche away from the airport and onto the freeway, toward downtown, grateful to be putting distance between us and Langer’sheadquarters. “But he had this big meeting with a couple of legislators he helped get elected. After all,” I added in a conspiratorial tone, “how else are they going to know which laws need to be changed in our favor?”
Arlo and Felix just looked at each other blankly.
Nice going, dumbfuck.
They burst out laughing.
“This guy.” Arlo nodded, jabbing at me with his thumb.
I exhaled. Perverting the course of democracy, huh? I’d have to remember that topic the next time I ran out of quips.
However, Felix still didn’t look happy about Langer’s absence, and I noted it as yet another thing I’d have to keep an eye on. In the meantime, I was dying to pry them for more, but I couldn’t. And here, if anything, was the plan’s fatal flaw: How was I supposed to find out anything when the real Corey already knew everything?
Somehow,I helpfully reminded myself.
“So what did you guys have in mind for tonight?” I said. “You know, besides…”Doing unspeakable things to innocent girls?
The two visitors looked at each other again.
“I thought we were headed to your headquarters,” said Arlo. “It’s brand-new. I figured Langer would want to show it off.”
I shook my head vehemently. “Trust me, I spend all day there. There’s nothing worth seeing.” Except for a bunch of people who, nice as they were, would rat me out instantly.
“Well, if Langer isn’t even there, I guess it doesn’t matter much,” said Felix.
I sighed in relief.
“That’s not why we’re here anyway,” Felix added, looking at Arlo, who nodded.
“Oh, one hundred percent,” I agreed, noting that nothing they’d said so far had disabused me of my suspicions of what they had planned, which was great, since the other thing I’d beenafraid of was that they would show up and actually want to talk about marketing.
“Anyway, I’m starving,” said Felix. “I had to rush out to the airport after a meeting and haven’t had a bite all day.”
“Don’t you want to check into your hotel?” I asked. I’d been hoping for at least a little downtime to research just what the fuck to do with these guys.
He looked at his colleague.
“Nah,” said Arlo. “We can leave the bags in your trunk, right, Corey? What do you think?”
What Ithoughtwas that I’d never eaten in a restaurant in my entire life, and I couldn’t think of a worse possible time to start. But what Isaidwas, “Sure. Where?”
Felix gave me a funny look. “How should I know? It’s my first time in this town. You’re supposed to know all the hotspots.”
Fuuuuuck. Thank God I now had instant access to all the same information free people did. If only I’d spent more time in the past week poring over restaurant listings instead of reading three different research papers about the new subatomic particles they’d discovered at the Large Hadron Collider. And if only I weren’t driving, and if only one of my hands wasn’t mostly useless and radiating searing pain to every other part of my body. I was already driving mostly one-handed, which in a manual was no small feat.
“Oh, yeah, no, sure, of course. There’s this fantastic place downtown,” I bullshitted. “You’ll love it. Best fish tacos I’ve ever had.”
“Fine, just as long as I can get them gluten-free,” Felix said boredly.
“Since when are you gluten-free, man?” asked Arlo. “Is it some kind of medical thing?”
“Nah,” Felix replied. “I just don’t like the way it bloats me. I won’t have any energy for the gym all week. But I say it’s amedical condition. It’s the only way you can get these idiot slaves at these places to get your order right.”
I groaned inwardly. I’d fully expected to end up praying for death at some point during this excursion, but I didn’t expect it to be quite this early. “Let me check if they’re open tonight.”
I fumbled in my pocket for my phone, one-handedly punched in “fish tacos,” “gluten-free” and—for good measure—“hotspot” into the search field and frantically clicked the first thing that popped up: the brand-new top-floor restaurant of a high-rise building downtown, not far from Langer’s condo. I’d probably even passed it once or twice.
