Dirty Work - Regina Kyle Page 0,2
replacing is leaving earlier than expected. They want me there as soon as possible.”
She at least has the good graces to look apologetic.
“So your brother’s just going to...what? Walk in and find me here with his dog?” Brie starts to correct me, but I whip out my “Stop! In the name of love” hand gesture again and the words get stuck in her throat. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Your parents’ dog.”
“Of course not. I’ll call him and explain everything before I go. And it if helps, I can take care of the paperwork. I’m an authorized user on his credit card in case of emergencies.”
“I’m not sure he’ll see this as an emergency.”
Brie rolls her eyes dramatically. Everything she does is dramatic. She’s what Erin would call extra. Part and parcel of being an actress, I suppose. I admit, it was a bit much at first, but now that I’m used to it, it’s more entertaining than exhausting.
“Trust me, if the alternative is him scooping dog poop in Hudson River Park, he’ll think it’s an emergency.”
I’m not entirely convinced, but Brie does her best impression of a damsel in distress, her amber eyes going wide as dinner plates and her full lower lip jutting out in a pathetic pout, and I cave.
Sucker.
“Okay.”
Stepping over Roscoe, I make my way to the kitchen area of the open floor plan, where I left my Kate Spade tote, one of the few holdovers from my DK&G days. Fortunately, I always keep a folder in there with a few blank copies of the standard Odds & Errands contract. When you’re in business, especially a business like mine, everyone you meet is a prospective customer.
I pull out a blank contract and a pen, make a couple of quick changes to the standard terms to reflect the specific services and higher rate we agreed on, then slide pen and paper across the mammoth marble-topped kitchen island to Brie. “Read it, print your name and credit card information in the spaces provided and sign on the line marked ‘client.’”
She grabs her ever-present messenger bag, whips out a credit card and fills out the form, signing her name with a flourish that’s as extra as she is. Then she pushes the paper back toward me. I tuck it safely in my tote and hold out my hand. “Pen?”
I hate asking, but I’ve lost so many it’s become a running joke with my employees. I’m almost positive Aaron and Erin have some kind of bet going. The loser probably has to buy the winner Starbucks for a week.
“Oops.” She hands it over.
“Thanks.” I drop it into my bag. “And I’ll need a key. Do you have a spare?”
“Jake keeps one in here somewhere.” She rummages through drawers until she produces a leather key chain with a pair of shiny silver keys dangling from it. She beams, holding it up like she’s found the holy grail. “The long one’s for the entrance to the building, and the short one’s for this apartment. Heads up.”
She tosses it to me, and I make a sweet one-handed catch. Ten years of tae kwon do as a kid, and I still haven’t lost my lightning-fast reflexes. I add the key chain to the growing collection in my tote, making a mental note to tag it later so I remember whose apartment it goes to. “That should do it.”
I give her a brief, semi-awkward parting hug. “Have a great time in San Diego. Work hard. Play hard. And don’t forget to slay.”
She laughs and hugs me back. “I’ll do my best.”
I start for the door, then remember one more thing and turn back to her. “Oh, I should probably have your brother’s cell number, since you’ll be like three thousand miles away.”
She nods. “I’ll text it to you.”
“Great.” I open the door, step through, then turn back one last time.
“But if this blows up in our faces, I’m totally throwing you under the bus.”
CHAPTER TWO
Jake
NORMALLY, I LIKE coming home after a too-long business trip. Sleeping in my own bed. Never running out of hot water in the shower. Binge watching the latest Marvel series on Netflix. My Tribeca loft was one of the first things I bought when Top Shelf started raking in the dough, and I spent a small fortune—or what seemed like a small fortunate at the time—making it the ultimate man cave, a place where I could relax, unwind and escape from the pressures of owning Manhattan’s trendiest nightclub with my best friend