Which boils down to the issue: she’s perfect, but she’s not ponying up a Social Security card. This is a problem.
BUT. This is a rule that—for her, this woman I do not know from Adam or an alien, har har—I will break. I want her that badly.
This is something I’ve never done. This is something I never wanted to do. It’s risky. It’s a bad idea for so many reasons.
As I work this decision out, Inara watches me without speaking, her gaze rapt on my face. Her long ears flick, and they look so, so real.
That’s it. She’s in. “Okay. You’ll be the first employee I’ve ever done this with, but I’ll pay you under the table,” I announce.
Her expression tightens. “Pardon?”
I scan her, seeing how tense she is all of a sudden. “To keep you off the books, I’ll do you under the table,” I repeat.
If possible, she gets even more rigid.
And it hits me. She isn’t familiar with the phrase and she’s hoping I didn’t just proposition her. “Uh, hang on. Paying you ‘under the table’—it means I’ll pay you without making a record of it. That’s ‘off the books,’ which the IRS, our government, doesn’t look kindly on. But you don’t want to give me your info—”
She opens her mouth to protest, her eyes looking awfully sincere.
“—or you can’t give me your info, and I’m weirdly inclined to work with you on this. However,” I drawl, even as my gaze pins her. “Don’t fuck me over.”
The scales around her eyes tighten and my gaze fixes on her face, just marveling at the tech involved in her suit. It’s… Honestly, it’s incredible.
“I won’t… screw? I won’t screw you over? Is that the typical response to that phrase?” Inara asks.
I smile. “Yeah. That’s what we say.” I shake my head at her. “Us Earthens, you know.”
Inara’s shoulders relax, and she laughs. A small sound. A stunning sound. “Yes. You humans. Creator, your language is crazeh.” She glances at me, a wrinkle marring her brow, but absolutely not marring the effect of her scale prosthetics or her makeup. “Did I use that word correctly? ‘Crazeh?’”
I catch my lower lip in my teeth, scraping it before nodding, eyes not leaving her. “Oh yeah. You got crazy on the nose, babe. But welcome to the team.”
CHAPTER 4
Jason and Sal, my other full-time employees, ambled out of the back at nine to punch out. They park behind the building, and although they don’t need a walk-out, I still make sure I’m at the door when they exit, watching the lot, and I tell them to drive safe before I lock up the back half after them. They don’t ask me any questions, and it isn’t until their taillights are all I see that I realize they probably think I’m still pissed that I’m down Tansy and Cooper on account of the couple’s impromptu wedded bliss bullshit. They were already manning their own escape room booths by the time our new employee strutted through the doors so they never got to meet Inara. I’ll fix that tomorrow. They’re going to think she’s the shit.
As for me being in a mood? Not even close. Not anymore. Tansy and Cooper who? To think I was cursing shotgun weddings when my day started, but here I am ending it and thanking God for big damn favors. Inara killed it with everybody who picked the alien package. I’m wishing Tansy and Cooper all the best, and I promise not to bitch much over the paperwork if they don’t come back.
Suddenly, my ears twinge because I hear an exclaimed, “You were fucking AWESOME!”
Since we’re the only three left in the building, that’s obviously Stacy to Inara. And Stacy’s statement is not wrong, because Inara was fucking awesome.
Still.
“STACY,” I bellow down the hall. I do it in that under-the-breath way that doesn’t hurt the ears because the roar isn’t loud or sharp, just deep enough to rattle the window glass. “Cut the fuckin’ swearing.”
Stacy’s laughter peels down the hall, but she does as ordered, using fudge and fiddlesticks and exaggeratedly safe stand-ins for cuss words as she continues extolling the incredibleness that was Inara’s performance. When I finally finish setting the back of the building to night-rights and it’s time to call it a day, I give the impertinent imp behind the welcome desk a chin tip. “Get your purse, you overgrown munchkin. Time to hoof it to your car.”
“Same with new girl Inara? You walking her out too?” Stacy hollers back, knowing she can yell all she wants because we’re closed to the public and I no longer care about polite niceties.
My head cocks in disbelief. “Did you really just ask me that? Yeah,” I confirm. “Same with new girl.” I walk all the girls to their cars unless they have a man who’s here to do it. It’s a rule. No woman goes out alone. We’re in a good part of town, but nowhere is a perfect town, and it’s dark as all fuck when we close at night, perfect for getting jumped if a group of guys circle back after doing a room here. You’d think puzzle-loving geeks would be a safe crowd, but get a bunch of guys together and I wouldn’t send my daughter, if I had one, out alone among them, and I’m not leaving any of my girls to the whims of the wolves either.
I hustle down the short hall, tugging my sleeve up and twisting my arm to check my watch face before I slip into my office, jerk open my desk, snatch my keys, slap my pocket for my wallet, and then I’m back out and snapping my fingers to catch my snarky receptionist’s attention. Normally, she’s like a puppy who desperately wants to race out of the house and book it in circles around the yard. I mean, without fail, twenty minutes before closing time, she’s almost always giving me the big eyes and whimpering, wanting me to call it an early night and cut her loose. Tonight, she’s so thrilled to chat up Inara that she’s nowhere near ready.
But I am. “Purse. Keys. Your ass waiting at the door. Now.”
“Yes, Dad,” Stacy responds.
“If I was your father,” I mutter. “I’d have beaten that sass out of you long before now.”
Stacy laughs and slings her purse’s strap over her arm. “Yeah, yeah. Ready to go.” She trots past Inara to stand by the door, giving me a pointed look, waiting for praise. Such a princess.
“Fucking thank you,” I tell her, because it’s important to acknowledge when kids follow orders, even if they still give you lip while they do it. That’s to be expected when they still live at home. Once they’re on their own paying their own bills, suddenly they respect their boss a lot more. I’m sort of looking forward to the day when Stacy is so scared of losing her job that she tries to bite her tongue. Emphasis on tries. It’ll be fun. So help me, I will call her mom and chuckle with her about it. I turn my attention to Inara. “Ready?”
“For?” Inara asks. “What are we to do?”
“I’m walking you ladies to your rides. Where you parked?”
“Oh, thank you—but no need,” Inara starts.
I catch Stacy’s deer-in-the-headlights widening-of-the-eyes, because she’s seen this play out with almost every new female employee.
“I appreciate your kind offer, but—”