A smile fluttered across the woman’s face. “You’d be surprised.”
Andi snorted. She couldn’t imagine her uncle dating someone quite so…blonde. But she could imagine him being thrilled to boss someone like Elsa around. She squinted. “Are you his secretary?”
“Akin to one, yes.”
That explained it. If her uncle had told someone he’d hired to retrieve her, maybe they were afraid of getting fired if they failed him. Uncle Lee could also be a little bit of an asshole.
Andi held her hands out in a sympathetic fashion. “Okay…so, I’ve been dealing with him my whole life. And I know the whole impossibly bossy thing he does—he swans into town and then we’re all supposed to drop everything and go see him because he’s our uncle and who doesn’t like red envelopes?” Andi couldn’t remember how many Christmases and Lunar New Years Uncle Lee had saved just by showing up. “And I know he’s my family…and I do want to see him! But tonight is just not going to be that night, okay? I don’t know what he told you, but I’m sure he made me hanging out with him sound more important to your job than it really is. He’s not going to fire you if I don’t come back—swear. That’s just how he talks; I promise.”
Elsa frowned deeply. “Your uncle is the kind of man who gets what he wants.”
“Yeah, I know.” Andi pinched the bridge of her nose. “But right now, what I want is to heat and eat a frozen pizza and then go back to bed for a nap before work.”
Elsa considered this. “All right. When can we reschedule?”
Andi sighed. How about never? But if there was anything her mother’d beaten into her thick skull, it was the importance of honoring her elders. And with Danny on the lam, her uncle—as distasteful as his obsession with being worshipped was—was all she had left.
“Next weekend. I’m off.” That way she’d have time to brace for it. She’d listen to Uncle Lee talk about how important he was without ever explaining exactly why or how and tolerate him implying that she and Danny were ungrateful—both separately and together. She loved Uncle Lee; she’d known him her whole life, but he always acted like she was her brother’s keeper—which she disliked—plus, it felt weird to reach out to him when she never knew what time zone he was in. The last time she’d called instead of texted had been when her mom was sick, and he’d been asleep in Sri Lanka.
He had still picked up though—and he was practically family. So, next weekend she’d tell him more about the latest stupid thing that Danny had done, and he’d feel an even bigger man then because Danny—once he resurfaced—really would need his help. She could see it on his face now like a movie marquee—Uncle Lee riding in one last time to help the Ngo twins out.
It really was a shame Danny wasn’t around; first, because this was all his fault, and second, because he’d practiced enough to do a really stunning impression of their uncle.
Elsa typed very quickly on her phone, waited for a response, then returned her attention to Andi. “Very well. Your ride will be here next Saturday at seven o’clock. Try to dress appropriately for the occasion.” The woman gestured to herself as an example, and Andi resolved to wear fuzzy pajamas with feet.
“Sure,” Andi said. The woman stood, and Andi walked behind her, opening the door and seeing her out. She watched her gracefully take the flight of stairs and step into a car opened by a dapper driver wearing sunglasses even though it was dark out. But he wasn’t as dapper as Damian had been. Andi bit her lips not to smile.
When she returned, Sammy was holding a pint of ice cream.
“Man, what a bitch. I should’ve just called the cops to teach her a lesson.” Sammy dug into the pint with a spoon.
“What is this I’m hearing? Samantha O’Connor, admitting that sometimes the cops have a point?”
Sammy pointed at herself with the spoon. “I’m straight now, ain’t I?” she said in her Irish lilt, her curly red hair in a tangled bun atop her head. She worked at a mom and pop body shop now—entirely legit—a complete one-eighty from the underground and illegitimate one she’d worked at when she’d been dating Danny, helping him fence stolen parts. Dating Sammy had been the best thing her brother had ever done, and dumping him had been the best thing possible for Samantha.
Andi grinned at her roomie. “You are. And…she’s not worth it.” Andi sank down beside her on their couch. This wasn’t the kind of neighborhood where it was okay to call the cops—everyone here had a slightly guilty conscience due to one or more illegal side-gigs. Cops would make too many of their neighbors nervous, not to mention their landlord, if he learned of it. And cops in this town were the shoot-first-ask-questions-later type; she’d seen enough trauma cases at the hospital to know.
“I just didn’t think anyone dressed in so much designer-shit would be that rude,” Sammy said, shoveling a wedge of triple-chocolate fudge in.
Andi snorted. “The designer-shit makes them ruder.”
“Pro-bab-ly,” Sammy said around her bite, panting to not get a cold rush. “So how was last night? Everything you dreamed and more?”
Andi felt herself flushing. “I got paid well?”
“Cheers to that,” Sammy said, tilting the pint up at her. “I was getting worried when you didn’t come home in the morning.”
“Oh, no, it was a twelve-hour thing,” Andi said, covering quickly. “I didn’t know until I was there, though. I spent all night watching someone’s sick great aunt.”
“Easy money then, too!” Sammy proffered the pint out to Andi. “Is it ice cream for breakfast or dinner for you?”
On a normal day off, Andi would’ve totally joined her, and they’d have booted Netflix up for the latest serial killer documentary. But while she’d already called in sick, tonight would be anything but normal. “Ummmmmm,” she hedged, glancing at her phone.
In an instant, she had Sammy’s full attention. “You’re ditching me, aren’t you? And not just for work.” Sammy put her ice cream down and leaned over. “Why? Or rather…who?”
Andi fought not to flush. “It’s…I met…it’s not even a date.”
“Um, yeah, ‘cause it’s after eight, and you’re not ready yet—so it must be later—and later’s edging into booty-call territory.” Andi snickered, and Sammy went on the defensive. “What?”
“Say booty-call again.” Andi tried to say it like she did, booty with an emphasis on the boooo.
“Don’t think that making fun of my accent will get you out of telling me the truth, missy.”
“Then don’t be like that,” Andi said, sticking out her tongue.
“So, who is he?”
“A friend.”
“How’d you meet him?”
“Online,” Andi said—and she wasn’t even lying. She’d answered a Help Wanted ad after all.
“Oh, no, I never have time to date anyone,” Sammy said, doing a halfway decent impression of Andi, before squinting at her. “Okay, then, what’s your safe word?”
“What?” Andi’s voice rose impossibly high, remembering the green room full of exotic black leather furniture she’d run through on the way to the pond inside Damian’s castle.