What the hell am I doing?
Perfect good looks, perfect body, perfect mouth, and perfect, caring heart. I didn’t think someone as perfect as Max could possibly exist in the world, and that’s why my stomach is sitting in my shoes. Because if I know one truth above all others in this world, it’s this: if something seems too good to be true, it usually is.
Even if I could contemplate letting him into my life, for all I know, the passionate man with the mysterious past I spent the evening with is just one more character in his romantic arsenal. Until I find out more about who he was before he became New York’s favorite escort, the jury is out, and there’s no way in hell I can allow myself to get in any deeper. Especially considering the volatile temper I saw on him tonight.
I swallow down the paranoid scenarios playing in my mind as I strip off the trappings of the glamorous woman I’ve been for the past few hours and get ready for bed. And when I set my alarm for six a.m., I tell myself I’m not doing it so I can get up early enough to scope out the warehouse that could contain all of Max’s secrets.
SEVENTEEN
Family Secrets
I poke my head out from behind the dumpster to see if there’s a truck outside the warehouse yet. There isn’t. It seems that whoever this Dyson person is, his idea of 7am is vague and inaccurate. It’s now 7:18, and there’s still no sign of him.
I’m torn about this mission to snoop on Max, especially considering everything that happened between us last night, but I can no longer let my emotions sideline my objectivity. No matter how charming and magnetic he might be, I still have a job to do, and with Derek breathing down my neck to see a partial draft of my story on Monday, I don’t have time for Max to keep stalling about his past. If he has skeletons in his closet, that’s fine, but I’d rather know about it now than be blindsided later.
“Any truck action?” Toby asks from behind me.
“Not yet.”
He sighs, loudly. “You wake me up at the asscrack of dawn, get me all excited about being spies, and now we’re just sitting around, waiting.”
I turn to him. He’s leaning again the wall behind the dumpster, sipping his soy milk latte and munching on a seven-dollar granola bar he picked up on the way. When I called him at 6:30 to see if he could help me out, he jumped at the chance, but I didn’t count on him dressing up in his best paramilitary gear. Of course, for Toby that means khaki skinny jeans, a grungy black T-shirt, a black beanie, and a camouflage-print cardigan. Yes, I said a camo cardigan.
“Have I mentioned what you’re wearing yet?” I ask. “Because seriously ... I have so many thoughts.”
He looks down at himself then back to me. “What? You said we’d be doing crime, so I wore my most crimey outfit.”
“Toby, first of all, you don’t ‘do’ crime; you commit crime, and the only person committing anything this morning will be me. You’re just my distraction. And second, never in the history of the world has any criminal thought to themselves, ‘Hmmm, you know what this felony calls for? A nice camo cardigan.’ Where on earth did you even find that thing?”
“I’ve had it for years. It’s both kickass and comfortable, so you can stop giving me shit about it.”
“You look like you belong in a retirement home for hipster bird watchers.”
He waves his giant leather-cuff wrist watch in front of his face. “Sching! Sching! Just deflected all of your negative energy.”
“How many cardigans do you own, anyway?”
He shrugs and has another sip of coffee. “The usual amount. Thirty. Forty.”
I roll my eyes and go back to staking out the warehouse. When I see a truck making its way down the alley, I elbow Toby. “Showtime, Soy Rambo.”
He comes over and looks out, his head sitting above mine. The truck backs up to the roller door right next to the mural stairs, and two guys get out. I recognize one of them as my former pool partner, ‘Pat’, the giant Irishman. I’m guessing he’s Dyson.
Huh. Actor and furniture mover. Multi-talented.
“You know,” Toby says, “if you wanted someone to distract those burly dudes, you should have brought your sister. I know she’s in France, but as attractive as I am, I’m not sure they’ll take much notice of me.”
“Sure they will. You know that stupid character of yours you do around the office?”
“Hertzog, the Particularly Dense German Tourist? Oh, ja.”
I hand him a map of Manhattan I snagged at a news stand on the way. “Feel free to make him extra dense today.”
“Ja, ja, ja!” He takes the map. “Wunderbar!”
After his buddy opens the back of the truck, Dyson goes straight to the keypad and punches in a number. Clearly, he’s in Max’s inner circle. The door buzzes as it unlocks, and he yanks it open before heading inside. Within a minute, the roller door opens, and he ushers the other dude, who I’m assuming is Rosco, to follow him. They emerge a short time later carrying a large and expensive-looking dining table.
“And today on Removalist Wars,” Toby whispers in a British accent, “Danny and Brett are going for the gold with an oak eight-seater. They’ve loaded it onto the truck, now let’s see what they do ... Oh, yes, I think they’re going back for the chairs. Well, this is good form from the New York boys. If they keep it up, we could see them in the final.”
I stifle my laughter as I nudge Toby. If I get arrested for trespassing, at least I’ll be smiling in my mug shot.
“You ready?” I say.
“I was born ready, fr?ulein. You want me to hang around until you get out?”
“Nah. As soon as I’m done I have to go and help Nannabeth at the markets. Thanks, Tobe. You’re a life saver.”
“Yeah, well, what can I say? I’m a giver. Still, if you wanna pay me back by taking a few pics of yourself in a Leia slave outfit, I’d be down with that. See you next week.”
I pat him on the arm as he passes.
When he gets to the dock, the guys have their arms full with padded chairs. He waves the map at them and loudly says, “Excuse me! You can help me? Zis subvay system is most confusing, ja? Vere am I finding ze Times Square? It is near here?”
The guys put their chairs down and laugh. “Pal, you’ve taken about a dozen wrong turns. You’re not even in Manhattan any more. You have to get back on the subway.”
“You will show me vere to go?”