Undercover Heat

Chapter 2: The Job

POV: Reece

My eyes hurt. They're red and feel like sandpaper. It's been two days since I heard an innocent man killed. So many people would call me foolish for crying over a man I do not know. They'd probably tell me I should be used to this lifestyle. People who work for Father disappear, reappear and disappear again all the time.

I'd tell anyone fantasizing about this lifestyle that the films and music videos aren't factual. People are real, and when sh*t happens, it stays in your mind forever.

What is it like to go anywhere you want and not fear police will bust through the door and take your father away?

As I rest on my bed and stare at the ceiling, I fantasize about taking a solo trip to Florida or Italy.

My cell phone rings. I grab it from my nightstand and rush to the door. After I open it, I glance around for anyone who may listen to my calls. Then, quickly, I close the door and lean against it.

"What took so long, Ree?"

I sigh as I listen to my best friend's high-pitched voice. "You know, Kimberly, I have to do my usual is-anyone-listening check."

"How is prisoner's paradise?"

I dive on the bed and roll onto my back. As I close my eyes, I say, "Kim, every day is more horrible than the next. Father killed an innocent man, and I was there."

"I'm sorry you witnessed that, Ree," Kimberly says sadly. "I'm surprised Old Mountain hasn't killed me. But, you know, your daddy hates me because I'm not scared to be friends with you."

'Tell me, Kimberly, why do you love making fun of Father's name? Besides, you're missing the point.'

"Ree, you know me. I tell it like it is. And I'm telling you that talking about fleeing from your family and doing it are separate things."

I nod. Yes, that's true. It's time for wishes and daydreams to become a reality, but how?

"We should go for plan B. So let's do it."

"Oh, Ree, you mean when I buy a plane ticket and somehow smuggle you out of Mountain's house for parts unknown." Kimberly clears her throat and asks, "what's plan A again?"

I roll over and stare at the wall and bite the inside of my jaw.

"Yeah, I thought so." Kimberly quickly adds, "let's give Mountain a chance to change, huh."

Slowly, I nod as I think about something that can get me out of this house. I press my lips together until I think about what people my age are doing. Hell, they are going to college and getting a job—

I smile.

"Are there any jobs at the library?"

Kimberly giggles, “I'll talk to my supervisor tomorrow."

***

"Little Sis, you're no longer eating dinner in your room," Alex sarcastically comments as I rush past her, smiling.

Sometimes, I wonder how we're sisters. Alex is five years older than I, and her personality is a replica of Father's. We have the same wide-shaped eyes and button noses. However, she looks nothing like Father.

I smile and resist the need to do one of those dances wide receivers do when they score a touchdown.

"Good, sweetheart, you're finally over your issue," Father says as he spreads his napkin over his lap and scoots his chair closer to the table.

Alex flops in the chair to the right of Father while I take my seat on his left. No one sits opposite of father. That seat is reserved for the woman I've never met. My mom.

Zenda, our housekeeper, serves us our meals.

"Sweetheart, you remind me of your mother—so naive and emotionally intelligent." Father cuts his steak and shakes his head.

"Daddy, toughen her up. Send her on a—"

"Hush, child," Father scolds Alex as he looks at me. "Sweetheart—"

This is my moment. I lean forward and smile at Father. Excitement races through me. I can taste the freedom I've longed for since I was a child.

"Father, I start at the library on Monday. I have a job as a clerk, reassign Neal because I don't want him sitting outside watching me."

"Oh, damn." Alex's fork hits the plate with a clang.

Father continues eating his steak as if I never spoke.

My shoulders sag as I feel a heaviness in my chest that makes me lean forward. I watch Father sip his wine.

"Daddy," Alex smacks as she finishes chewing her food. "You should let me take Reece on one of my jobs. I'll give her half my pay."

'You always do this, Father. I know you heard me.'

Joy slowly sips away.

However, I force myself to sit more erect and stare at him.

"Did you hear me, Father?"

"Alex," Father continues staring at her. "I heard Eddie was picked up again."

'Father, I heard a man plead for his life, and it's tortured me. However, to you, it's just another day. I'm not you.

I'm not Alex.

Drugs and death aren't things I want on my resume.'

I press my full lips together. Then, as tears sting my eyes, I look at the napkin on my lap.

"Father," I say, surprised my voice sounds so raspy. "I'm not like Alex—"

His voice sounds harsh as he tells me, "I don't have time for this. Sweetheart, I'm not asking you to become Alex."

"Father, you killed an innocent man. Of course, I can't prove his innocence, but no one has the right to take another person's life unless it's self-defense."

"Wow, Daddy, we have our own jailhouse lawyer."

"You have a lot to learn about life, Sweetheart." Father hits his fist on the table without making eye contact with me."

"Kimberly works at the library."

I wipe the tears from my eyes. "How old are you, right now, Alex?"

Father throws his napkin on the table. "Suddenly, I've lost my appetite."

As I listen to Father's loud footsteps, I cover my eyes. My happiness is replaced with the usual frustration. This time I feel despair, too.

The sound of Alex's chair legs sliding against the hardwood floor makes me look up. She's walking out of the dining room.

I think about the library job and force a smile. It doesn't matter that he ignores me. I am a library clerk, and there's nothing he can do about it.

As I push my plate away, my heart aches.

Why can't I be more like Alex and love this life? How can I live like this?

My father is wealthy, and I want for nothing. But, unfortunately, that man killed the other day, and many others pay for my shelter with their lives.

Well, I'm done with pretending you're a real estate mogul and not a killer.

'Ignore me, Father. Act like I don't exist when I do something you don't like.'

***

It's Sunday afternoon, and the opened window blows cool air into my stuffy bedroom as I happily pick out my clothes for the first day of work.

My phone sounds, and there's a knock at my door. There's a fifty-fifty chance Kimberly's calling, so I rush to the door. The phone stops ringing.

"Hey, Reece," Neal says, rubbing his bushy beard, "It was a pleasure driving you around."

"You're leaving?"

"Nah, Canyon reassigned me."

My shoulders slump, "who's replacing you?"

"No one," he tells me with a shrug.

I frown at him as he strolls down the hallway. 'Tell me, Neal,' I want to say as I watch him leave, 'you're telling me I'm free of a security detail just like that?'

A smile teases my lips. My phone sounds again. Just wait until I tell Kimberly to file our plan B in the circular file.

I rush into my room, letting the door slam. I grab my phone and look at the caller identification. It's my new boss.

"Hi, Mr. Waters. Thank you again for hiring me. I can't wait to start tomorrow. If you're calling about my employment packet, I've completed it."

Silence.

Mr. Waters clears his throat but doesn't speak immediately.

Suddenly, I hold my phone tighter as my body tenses. "Mr. Waters?"

"Reece—Ms. Young, it was a pleasure bringing you on board, but I must rescind the offer." He pauses, then quickly adds, "You see, the board—the library board—cut our funding for new hires, and I tried to…anyway. You don't have a job, sorry."

"Mr. Waters," I hurriedly say.

He's ended the call..

I throw my phone on my desk and sit at my desk. My shoulders sag as my body goes numb. I want to cry, but hope and the victory I felt when I received the library job won't let me.

If I can't get a job, then I'll go to college. Kimberly's a junior in college now, and she has a work-study job. Determination replaces the shock I felt minutes ago. I open my laptop and conduct an internet search. Within minutes, I conclude my search and smile. I finish my community college application.

My door opens, but I don't look back. Instead, I grab my purse from the edge of the table and retrieve one of the credit cards Father gave me last year.

"I'm so sorry to hear about the library job, sweetheart."

I grip the credit card as Father lightly kisses my temple and pats me on the shoulder.

He sits on the edge of my desk and stares down at me with this sympathetic expression that makes me ill.

"These things happen," I tell him.

Father grins, and his shoulders sag, "you're more brilliant than your sister."

Anyone is "more brilliant" than Alex, I want to tell him. But, instead, I lower my laptop screen.

"I know you feel I'm hard on you, sweetheart, but I'm shielding you from what took your mother away from me."

Before I think about it, I glare at him and comment, "Tell me, Father, how does Mom's death during childbirth have anything to do with going out with friends and having a job—"

Father stands, looking down at me, expressionless. "I see you're tired."

After taking a deep breath, I proudly open my laptop and type the credit card number into the p*****t section. "You're right, Father. But, unfortunately, this college app was more frustrating than I anticipated."

Something tells me to click send before putting my credit card back into my purse. Instead, however, I drop the card in my purse.

Father slams my laptop shut and takes it.

As I stare at the wall in front of me, I hear Father slam my door, so hard pictures on my wall rattle.

***

"Sweetheart, I'm sorry I lost my temper yesterday."

Last night, I mentally replayed the moment when Father took my laptop and thought of at least ten things I could have done differently at that moment.

Now, I sit in the mall's food court, holding my phone to my ear and listening to Father's apology.

Kimberly sits across from me, taking bites of food and looking around for Father's detail.

"You should ask him if he's got his people following you," Kimberly says, pointing her fork at me, "I see some crazy-looking dudes who could work for him."

When I open my mouth to speak, Father gruffly asks, "Is that Kimberly? Let that little girl know that she's messing with the wrong one."

"Tell me, Father, where's Neal?"

"Reassigned. You didn't want a security detail, and you won't have one."

"I've been asking you to do that for years, Father. Why now?"

I wave my hand to get Kimberly's attention and mouth that there's no detail.

Kimberly responds loudly, "Hmm, sounds like Mountain has a guilty conscience for tanking your library job."

"Sweetheart, let that…," he pauses and continues minutes later, "please stop by my office today and pick up your laptop. I have a surprise for you too."

***

Kimberly told me not to go to Father's office. However, I leave Kimberly shopping at the mall to get my laptop. I took a ridesharing car to his office and prepared for a battle. I believe Kimberly when she joked that Father probably closed the community college.

As soon as I enter the office building, I look at the door and think about the man who died there last week. I feel so ashamed that I can't remember his name anymore.

I find Father in the outer office on his cell phone. He looks relaxed, and when he sees me, he grins and points to the desk.

My laptop sits on the desk as if I worked here.

He ends the call.

"Sweetheart, I'm glad you're no longer poodle sitting." He kisses me on the cheek.

Poodle sitting? I frown. Seconds later, I shake my head and scold him, "If you're referring to Kimberly. Don't say that."

"What? She reminds me of one of those yapping poodles," he tells me, waving his hand. "never mind. How do you like it?"

I watch Father walk around the outer office, pointing at things like artwork or flowers that I never noticed before this moment.

After a few minutes, I shrug.

"Good, you like it. You start now. I'm paying you more than minimum wage." Father beams. "You'll handle new hires and real estate contracts—it's legit."

"You," I pause, trying to get over my anger, "want me to work for you?"

"You're my secretary now." Father marches over to the desk, grabs the stack of folders and hands them to me.

He leaves.

I place the stack of folders back on the desk, ready to leave. Father wants me to work for him. It's not going to happen. This isn't freedom or a way to get away from Father.

I lean over the desk and grab my laptop, knocking over the stack of folders. I place my laptop on the desk and my purse on the floor with a sigh. Slowly, I pick the folders and papers, matching them with the names and pictures until I see one photograph.

The photograph attached to stapled papers made me flashback to my dinner with Father and Dean. The same lopsided grin, dusty hair and blue eyes—and the Hollywood movie star looks.

Joseph Anderson.

Dean's last name is Anders. But, he said, your name is Joey.

'Hmm, tell me, Joseph Anderson, how did you escape your father, and how can you help me do the same thing?'