3. Ari
1278 Words
CHAPTER 3
ARI
AnyBet LV’s global headquarters was a twelve-storey glass-and-steel monolith that towered over the AnyBet sports betting lounge next door. Inside, the marble-floored lobby was a study in cream and grey with low leather chairs clustered around a slate coffee table that held a neat stack of lifestyle magazines. Five bucks said none of them had ever been opened. The only splash of colour came from the huge vase of purple orchids on the oversized reception desk, and even the brunette seated behind it wore beige lipstick with French-tipped nails to go with her cream shift dress.
“May I help you?”
I’d worn a pantsuit, but I still felt woefully underdressed. “I’m here to meet… Actually, I don’t know what her name is, but she works for Digby Rennick.”
“We all work for Mr. Rennick.”
“I meant, she’s his assistant.”
“Which one? He has two assistants, and neither of them mentioned an appointment this morning.”
“She definitely said nine thirty.”
Was I wasting my time here? The receptionist glared, and we were about to get into a game of who blinks first when the elevator dinged behind me.
“Ms. Danner?”
“Yes?”
Was this the lady I was here to meet?
She studied me, assessing, while I did the same to her, although I liked to think I wasn’t quite so obvious about my inspection. She was younger than I’d guessed, couldn’t have been older than me, but she exuded a gravitas beyond her years. Twenty-five going on forty. She was probably two inches shorter than my five feet seven, but her high-heeled pumps meant she looked down on me. Finally, she nodded as if to say “you’ll do” and held out one limp hand.
“Lila Margot.”
Was Margot her surname? Or a middle name? “Arizona Danner.”
“You’re early.”
Only by ten minutes, and wasn’t being a little early a good thing? “Would you like me to go away and come back again?”
A pause, as if she was actually considering my slightly sarcastic offer.
“No, it’s fine. We should go upstairs.”
“To meet Mr. Rennick?”
“Yes.”
She waved me toward the elevator and stood in silence as it ascended. Reflected in the mirrored wall, her face gave nothing away. This whole place was weird. Lila could have been the receptionist’s twin—she wore the same low ponytail, the same snooty expression, and the same neutral colour palette, except her dress was grey instead of cream.
We emerged on the eleventh floor in a small anteroom, and I used the term “small” relatively since it was still bigger than my entire apartment. And emptier. Two grey desks faced each other on either side of imposing double doors. Did they lead to Rennick’s office? Each desk held a monitor, a mouse, and a keyboard, and the larger one had a mug of coffee on a square of slate. No steam. It had been there for a while. A small tree stood in an oversized grey bowl in one corner, its twisted branches crowned with pom-poms of tiny green leaves. Some kind of giant bonsai? As with the lobby, there was only one hint of colour, this time from a clock mounted over the double doors, a cerise disc with zigzag hands and no numbers.
“Take a seat.” Lila waved at a single metal chair beside the left-hand desk. “Your appointment isn’t actually until ten, but you’ll need to sign a non-disclosure agreement first.”
NDAs were common in my line of work, but the setup still made me uncomfortable. Morty had taught me how to evaluate any situation, but I struggled to get a read on Lila, and her boss was still mostly a mystery. A reclusive multimillionaire obsessed with numbers was as far as I’d got. Digby Rennick didn’t seem to have a family or any hobbies.
“Can you tell me anything about the job before I sign my life away?”
I’d intended it as a joke, but Lila didn’t crack a smile. In a previous existence, she’d probably been a gargoyle.
“Please read the document through, initial each page, and then sign on the dotted line.”
Part of me wanted to walk away, but my overdraft wouldn’t let me. Plus there was my damn curiosity. Nosiness was as much a part of me as blood or skin, a blessing and a curse, Morty used to say. I needed to know why Rennick had summoned me here.
I signed.
Lila’s mouth twitched at the corners, which seemed to be about as close to congeniality as she got.
“Thank you.”
I nodded toward the double doors. “Should I go through now?”
“Mr. Rennick hates being rushed almost as much as he hates tardiness. Three minutes.”
The zigzag hand swept around the giant clock with agonising slowness. Tick, tick, tick.
“Can you at least tell me why I’m here?”
Lila focused on her computer screen. “I’m afraid not.”
Wouldn’t or couldn’t? From the way she avoided my gaze, I was inclined to believe it was the latter.
“You don’t know, do you? Rennick hasn’t told you why he wants to see me.”
“That’s Mr. Rennick.”
Whatever. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
Lila nibbled her bottom lip, leaving a smear of nude iridescent lipstick on perfectly white teeth. Nervous?
“I was instructed to find a private investigator with certain attributes.”
“Which were?”
A long pause. Lila was fond of silence, wasn’t she? Up in this ivory tower, we were insulated from the outside world, no music, no voices, no rumble of traffic. The only sound came from the damn clock ticking away, a countdown on my sanity.
“The investigator needed to be female.”
Interesting. But there was more—she’d said attributes, plural.
“And?”
“In her twenties.”
“And?”
“Uh… She had to look good in a bikini.”
What? “I’m sorry?”
The lock on the double doors clicked, and Lila let out the breath she’d been holding. “You can go through now.”
“Wait a freaking minute! Why does he want me to wear a bikini?”
“You need to go in.” For the first time, Lila’s voice held a hint of panic. “Please? And keep your voice down. He doesn’t like noise.”
Was this guy a fruitcake? Silence, secrecy, and swimsuits? What did he want me to do? Go undercover at a beauty pageant? Or a strip club?
Lila was halfway out of her chair, arms outstretched. What did she plan to do? Wrestle me into the inner sanctum? Entertaining as that might be, I didn’t want to get escorted out by security. I’d had that pleasure enough times in my life already.
“I’m going, okay? But if I don’t come out in twenty minutes, call the cops.”
Again, no smile. At least I’d told Nana exactly where I was going and who I was meeting today, because I didn’t trust Lila one bit. What kind of woman sat in a fancy prison cell each day, catering to the whims of a lunatic? No wonder we’d stopped on the eleventh floor—Rennick’s elevator clearly didn’t go all the way to the top.
I pushed on one dark-grey door, and it swung open on well-oiled hinges. Wow. This was…interesting.
- Writer
