“He’s not my buddy. He’s a security consultant who was hired by the executive director of the museum to find ethical hackers to do penetration testing of their new security system to identify and patch up weaknesses. His name is Michael P.”
I’d suggested several times that Chloe turn her ethical hacking side hustle into full-time work, but with Olivia to care for, and a deep-seated lack of confidence, she preferred the stability and benefits of her help desk job.
“What about the rest of his last name?”
“We’ve only corresponded online,” she said. “His e-mail address and his handle were all Michael P.”
“If you plan to hook up with Michael P, you should wear something that screams, ‘Take me now.’？”
“Who wants to be taken now?” Cristian looked up from his phone. He was wearing his favorite cargo pants and a skin-tight black shirt with Social Justice Warrior written in cursive across his chest. He played competitive soccer in his spare time and claimed to volunteer at an animal shelter, although I didn’t know if the latter was true. I preferred to admire his sexy smile, lean toned body, chiseled jaw, and run-your-hands-through-it-while-he’s-ravishing-you hair from a healthy distance in case he caught me looking and tried to get into my pants. In the short time we’d been waiting for the delivery truck, he’d called three different women and told each of them that she was his “special baby girl” and that he was coming to see her tonight.
“Go back to your womanizing,” I said. “I’m sure you’ve got a few more ‘special baby girls’ waiting to hear from you.”
“You’re jealous.” His soft tawny bedroom eyes smoldered. “But don’t worry. I can schedule you in next week for a little Cristian love.” He checked out his reflection in the window and smiled. He knew he was drop-dead gorgeous. If I hadn’t done some social media stalking and seen the visual evidence of his inflated ego and his fixation with sex, even I wouldn’t have been immune to his charms.
“Uh-uh no way nope.” I checked the street again for the truck, still clinging to the faint hope that it would arrive early so I could catch Chloe at the museum before she left. Traffic usually slows in the Loop after seven p.m. when everyone has left the city for their cozy homes in the suburbs but picks up again at nine p.m. because of airport traffic. Dad often schedules his deliveries for that low traffic window.
“Is that Cristian talking?” Chloe asked.
“Yes. He thinks I’m desperate to get him into bed.”
“I’m not going to get anyone into bed tonight,” she said. “My wardrobe screams ‘struggling single mom.’？”
“That’s why I left my black dress in your hall closet. It’s the one with the lace overlay and plunging neckline. You can put a cute sweater over it to meet the executive director, but when you go for drinks with Michael P—”
“Have I mentioned recently how much I love you?”
“You brought bleach to a possible murder scene. I think that says it all.”
“Say what?” Cristian looked up again. “Did you murder someone? I’ve never slept with a murderer before. I’ll give you whatever you need, baby. Cold bath. Knife play. Coffin. I’ll even let you put a bag over my head if it gets you off.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
I heard the rustling of hangers, a gasp. “It’s perfect,” Chloe said. “He won’t stand a chance.”
“Don’t get too excited.” I moved out of Cristian’s hearing range. Even the slightest sexual innuendo could set him off. “You don’t even know what he looks like. He could be a forty-year-old geek who lives in his mother’s basement.”
“He’s a single parent of a teenage girl, just like me,” she said. “We have a lot in common—same taste in music, same love of rom-coms, same interest in modern contemporary design, same passion for hacking. I feel like I know him better than I ever knew Kyle.”
A shiver ran down my spine when Chloe mentioned her abusive ex. She’d met him when she was sixteen and working as a waitress for the summer at his parents’ country club. Kyle was a college sophomore majoring in computer engineering and showed up every day to golf with his dad. He was charming and handsome and swept Chloe off her feet and into a storage shed, where he became her first. Two months later she found out she was pregnant and decided to have the baby. Kyle had initially walked away, but when his parents threatened to disinherit him, he changed his mind and asked Chloe to marry him. Only sixteen and living with her alcoholic mother, Chloe took the lifeline he offered. She would have been better off alone.
“You never really knew Kyle,” I said. “He wasn’t interested in sharing his life with you. He only married you to get his parents’ money. I think that was pretty clear after you left him and he refused to pay child support and then had the audacity to try to reconcile when his parents finally cut him off.”
Chloe had spent six horrendous years with an angry and resentful Kyle, caught in a cycle of physical and emotional abuse. When she finally broke free, she worked two jobs and went to college at night to give Olivia the best possible life she could.
“Can you meet us for drinks afterward?” she asked. “I need you to check him out. I don’t trust my own judgment. What if he’s another Kyle and I just don’t see it?”
“Of course I’ll be there. Just text me the address.” I popped a few Fuzzy Peaches in my mouth. The problem with working in a candy store when you have a sugar addiction is the limitless supply. I was amazed I still had all my teeth.
I tried to stay upbeat, but I was worried about Chloe. Despite everything she’d been through, Chloe was still sweet, gentle, kind, and trusting. She thought the best of people. She believed in romance, love, and happily-ever-afters.
“Maybe he has a friend and they each turn out to be ‘the one’ and we can have the double wedding we dreamed about when we were kids,” she said.
I would have laughed out loud, but my mouth was full of candy. There was no “one.” Men thought of me as a pal, or worse, a sister. My dates usually devolved into ad hoc counseling sessions where I gave the dude tips on how to ask out the woman he really wanted to be with. Relationships ended when I beat the men at pickup or humiliated them at pool. With three brothers, I’d learned how to hold my own in the activities they enjoyed.
The delivery truck pulled up in the loading zone outside the store and I motioned to Cristian to open the door. “The truck is here. Gotta go inspect bolts of cloth as my penance for losing my job. If he’s hot, send me a picture. If he’s under sixteen, send me a pimple count.”
“I can’t even . . .”
“You forgive me.”
“I do.”
“Have fun, babe.”
“Right back at you.”
I tucked my phone away, pushed up my sleeves, and went to have “fun” with Cristian.
Three
Cristian and I had just stacked the last bolt of cloth in the storage room when Chloe called. My pulse went immediately into overdrive.
Chloe never called.