Chapter Two
"This isn't half bad," Leah said between bites of pizza. We were in the kitchen, sitting on the bar stools at the counter, open pizza boxes on the counter. The intensity from earlier had faded and Leah looked well-put-together again. Her wedges scattered on the floor and her bare feet were the only signs anything had happened between us. I'm sure I looked like a mess.
"Sabatino's is the best in town," I answered and lifted another slice from the box.
At some point in my life I realized that eating somehow became intertwined with big life events. Cake at birthday parties, family members bringing food over to relatives who just had a child, catered food at weddings, the list goes on. Life doesn't ever go back to what it was before, but food helps remind us that it does go on. Leah was on her second slice of pepperoni when she asked, "So how does this work?"
"Which part?"
"The part where we had sex and you agreed to keep me and my sister out of jail," she said like she was explaining a simple concept to an annoying child.
Right. That. "If I remember correctly, you made an offer, and I accepted," I answered carefully, taking a bite of pizza.
Leah blushed and looked away. "I guess we'll figure that out as we go. What do we do about my sister? She will be out of the hospital soon, do you have a plan for what happens to her next?"
"I'll be right back," I answered and left the room, returning with my laptop. "Yesterday I set up a wire transfer to the county for Brooke's bail," I explained as I logged into the banking portal. "It'll come from a nail salon that she just became a part-owner in." In movies and cautionary tales from cyber-security experts trying to make a sale, they always make it sound like thieves and scammers can steal your life savings right out from under you if they have your bank account number. In reality, that information, along with your bank's routing number, is printed right on the face of every check you've ever written. It's standard practice for businesses to just give that information out for free so your customers can make electronic payments. They need to know where to send the money to, and you want to make it as easy as possible to get paid. The real security is in setting up safeguards so money can't
leave
your account without your express approval.
The phone rang. "Hello. This is he. Yes I did. Yes one million one hundred thousand dollars and zero cents. Can you repeat the receiving bank account info? Ok, yes, that's correct, it's good to go, thank you." I hung up the phone. "Her bail's paid. When she gets out she's a free woman, for now."
Leah stopped eating and asked, "What is it you do exactly?"
"Like I said. I'm an accountant."
"Mmhmm. An accountant that has a million dollars sitting around in case someone needs to get out of jail." That was closer to the truth than she knew.
"Having access to liquid funds is important to my employers."
"And your employers are... who exactly?"
"It's a long story."
Leah rolled her eyes. "Matt. We're trying to keep my sister and me out of jail. You just spent more than a million dollars and didn't blink an eye. We had sex less than an hour ago and I don't know anything about you. Can we put our cards on the table? At least a little?"
"Cards on the table? Ok, how about we start with why a famous actress was on the run with enough blow to knock out an elephant. That seems like a good place to start."
"Fine. I'll answer your questions if you answer mine."
I thought about it. I had never told anyone what I really did for a living. Nothing good could come from it. My family and friends thought I was a vanilla CPA doing taxes for rich trust fund babies. Between the odd hours, frequent impromptu business trips, and the safety aspect of it all, it was just easier to keep them in the dark. Over the years I had drifted away from my old life. But Leah was in this deep already, what was the harm in filling in a few blanks for her?
"Okay. What's your first question?"
Leah leaned forward, which put her alluring cleavage on display, and squinted at me. She made a show of thinking hard while I tried to keep my eyes on hers. "Hmmm. Alright. Have you ever been married?"
"What? That's what you want to know?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Is that your first question for me?" she asked. When I didn't answer she smirked and said, "I have my reasons." When I still didn't answer she became annoyed. "Jesus. We'll get to the heavy stuff." Then her expression softened. "We're going to be spending a lot of time together Matt, some of it intimately. It's important to me to know at least a little about you, personally."
I held up my hands in surrender. "Fair enough. No I've never been married. I came close, once, but I broke it off. This job doesn't leave a lot of room for anything else. Okay, my turn. You said earlier that the night of the accident you had just done a pick-up before you were chased off the highway, so I suspect this isn't your first time."
"Is there a question coming?"
"Who were you working for?"
