Live Love Rewind: The Three Lives of Leah Preston (3 page)

He exhaled softly. “Roger’s a great guy, no criminal anything, not even a parking ticket. He’s a real estate broker.”

“I’m impressed you were able to keep him hidden.”

“It was an effort. The GJSA was calling everyone I knew, checking everything.” Curling the tissue inside his fist, he added, “I mean, I can see where people have to be checked out but not Roger. You’ll see.”

“I expect we will.”

“Am I in trouble?”

“For being clever?” To Leah, Viola said, “What about you, Miss Preston?”

“I...uh, I like men.” She glanced at her table partner. “Too.”

Eli grinned.

“I meant, do you have a secret boyfriend? Have you found yourself a significant other?”

An image of Neal Terenzio flashed in Leah’s mind. Inevitably, the mental picture was accompanied by the memory of his wedding ring.

She said, “I’m thinking of getting a cat.”

“I’ve heard short-haired Burmese are delightful.” The tension eased from Viola’s shoulders. “Next, why don’t we all try a little word association?”

Chapter Five

Son of a Preacher Man
sang from her cell phone, waking her. It was nearly pitch black in her bedroom, courtesy of a pair of effective blackout shades, but Leah caught a glimpse of her bedside alarm clock as she answered the call.

It was 5:57 AM.

“Good morning, Ms. Preston,” Viola Stone said cordially. “Sorry to call so early but I wanted to inform you that Agent Wexler is on his way to your residence. He should be at your door within the hour.”

“Ummm.”
Class doesn’t start until 9:00
, her brain offered fuzzily.
Why is Jon coming here so early?

In fact, why is he coming here at all?

“Are we still meeting in the main building?”

“Class is over. You did quite nicely.”

Class can’t be over
, she wanted to say
. I haven’t learned anything!
“What about Eli? Will he be coming, too?”

“Mr. Rannell isn’t going forward in the process,” Viola said coolly. “You’ll be meeting with your immediate supervisor this morning. Dress appropriately.”

The call ended. Leah let her head sink into the pillow.

Viola’s call didn’t make any sense. Eli was out? But why?

Was he fired because he was gay?

Or because he was in a relationship?

Because he was no longer all by himself, living in a lonely bubble?

Now Eli has someone nearby who cares about him
, she realized.
Someone watching over him, someone who notices when he comes and goes.

I don’t have anyone here. Well, there’s the apartment gardener. It’s obvious Neal cares. But he doesn’t count, not on any real level.

Mom worries about me but, because of her hearing loss, she hates to call. Because she’s ancient, she never texts. Weeks can go by without any contact between us.

Suddenly, she felt uneasy about her new career. She wondered,
Was I hired because I was the best candidate? Or was I hired because I’m the person least likely to be missed?

Leah remained in bed, her thoughts jumbled, until she noticed the time. She had less than a half hour to get ready.

Don’t want to be late on my first day
, she thought.
For whatever the job is.

# # #

She answered the knock at her door. Just as handsome as she remembered, Jon Wexler presented her with a potted flower.

The story of my life,
Leah thought
. Guys keep bringing me flowers when what I really want is chocolate.

The petals were lavender, and so dark that they looked dyed. “My favorite color,” Leah told him.

“There’s a note.”

Taken by the flower’s beauty, she’d overlooked the attached message. Wondering what Jon might have written, she turned the note over.

Thought you would enjoy these.

Neal

“A friend?” Jon asked.

He sounded more than simply curious and, for a moment, she felt flattered. Then she remembered why Jon was on her step. He had a job to do.

She remained part of his duties. Even after being hired, she remained under investigation.

She had to be honest with herself. There wasn’t a chance in hell this David Boreanaz-lookalike was intrigued by her.

Maybe if I was ten years younger and twenty pounds lighter
. She said, “Neal’s the landscaper here.”

Jon stepped aside as she left her apartment. On the drive into the city, he barely spoke.

Distracted, Leah used the time to gaze out the car’s side window and wonder exactly how she’d gotten to this place in her life.

Mom always taught me to do as I was told
, she thought
. Follow the rules, she said, and you’ll succeed.

I’m beginning to think she was wrong.

I’ve always tried to be the good little bee. Did as the teachers asked, got good grades. Didn’t get a scholarship but I made Honor Roll almost every semester.

I wasn’t anything like Jenna Beasley. Jenna skipped class as often as she could. She barely graduated.

In college, I smoked marijuana one time and fell asleep for the rest of the day. I bought the pot from Jenna, who was selling joints behind the Fifth Avenue Burger King.

My high school sweetheart, Craig Arevalo, tried his best to get me to do the deed with him but he never got past third base. Mom said a lady didn’t do those kinds of things, not without a ring on her finger.

My relationship with Craig ended abruptly when I caught him banging All-Too-Easy-Beasley in the front seat of his black Ford Fairlane. In October, Craig and Jenna celebrated another anniversary together. They live in a nice two-story Craftsman with its very own, honest-to-goodness, white picket fence.

Meanwhile, my only half-decent relationship ended in divorce. I have no house, no savings, and I’m about to start my third new job in less than two years.

What’s wrong with this picture?

Jon waved at the guard as they entered the GJSA parking garage.  Leah said, “When I was here yesterday, I didn’t need anyone with me.”

“You’re going to a different floor today. On the upper levels, everyone requires an escort.”

He remained distantly professional as they rode the elevator to an upper floor. Exiting onto the sixteenth level, they crossed the hallway to enter a room painted in eggshell white.

At Jon’s appearance, the secretary in the anteroom rose without speaking. Leaving the room, she closed the door behind her.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance,” Leah said softly. She could hear the strain in her voice.

“It’ll be okay,” Jon reassured her. Placing his hand lightly on her elbow, he guided her toward the interior office.

The utilitarian space before her was no more special than the outer room. Except for a silver digital clock, the white walls were barren. There were a few pieces of furniture, four chairs, a desk, and an end table, but everything in the office appeared to have been selected solely for functionality. The room lacked any sense of personality or style.

The woman behind the metal desk was as physically exceptional as the room was plain. The nameplate on the desk read
Clarissa Dayne
. If the person sitting there was Ms. Dayne, she had the thick blonde hair, flawless ivory skin, and emerald green eyes of a supermodel. Her designer dress flowed over her body, emphasizing the perfection it enclosed. She wore no jewelry except for a pair of small but dazzling diamond earrings.

The woman said, “Is this her?”

The FBI agent dipped his head.

Clarissa stood up, offering a manicured hand for Leah to shake.

Leah said, “I’m pleased to meet you.”

The other woman’s pouty, pink lips twitched at the remark. “Remarkable.”

Jon gave Leah a sympathetic look. Like her, he knew what the supervisor meant to convey with her response: 
There were hundreds of applicants but, somehow, through some terrible miscarriage of the hiring process,
this
is what made it to my door?

“Why don’t you wait outside, Agent Wexler?” Clarissa said. “I’ll call you when I need you.”

The last sentence simmered with a sexual undercurrent but the FBI man responded as if he hadn’t noticed. He exited the room.

“Sit,” Clarissa said. Taking her own advice, she returned to her seat.

Sitting a small, wooden chair, Leah faced the other woman.

“I personally read through every application we received,” Clarissa told her. “Yours was far from the top of my pile.”

“Oh.”

“I preferred a younger candidate. I didn’t want someone so – experienced.”

‘Old’ is what she means
, Leah realized.

“Your job history is unimpressive, Miss Preston. Your personal history is just as prosaic. If you were ever going to accomplish anything of note, you’d have done so by now.”

Insulted, Leah’s first instinct was to leave. Calming herself, she decided she wouldn’t let this woman get under her skin. Some of what Clarissa was saying might be true yet, as Viola Stone had recently stated, a person was more than the strings of words written on a standard, preprinted form.

With all of your spies, all of your investigations, there are still things you don’t know about me
, Leah wanted to say.
Did you know I once wrote a novel? It wasn’t any good, I ended up shredding every page, but I completed it. Me.

You know I went to Bellebrook but you probably think film school was just a lark. Not for me. I graduated at the top of my class. If I hadn’t decided to get married instead, I’d be a producer. You’d be seeing my name on movie posters.

When I was fifteen, I wanted to be Nora Roberts, making my mark on the bestseller list. When I was twenty, I thought I might be a sculptor. With the right training, I’m certain I could have been an artist.

I had hopes, I had ambitions, but life swept me along. That’s what life does, it carries you along until you look up and you’re nowhere near where you wanted to go. By then, it’s too late to turn back.

In this situation, it’s probably for the best. You wouldn’t have hired a writer or an artist, no matter their qualifications. What I am is what you need.

A middle-manager.

“I met the job qualifications,” Leah said, striving to maintain an even tone. “The listing asked for a facilitator and that’s one of my strengths. Besides, I’m not exactly ancient.”

“You’re six years older than me.” Clarissa knit her fingers together, her painted nails resting on the backs of her hands. “Rather timid and set in your ways. Exactly who we don’t need.”

Leah studied her face. “You had someone else in mind, didn’t you?”

“Not a specific person, no. When the position originally became available, I encouraged my superiors to find a recruit from within the organization. I was told we had to have an outsider.”

“Why?”

“That’s a mystery, isn’t it? They could have selected one of the brightest minds of our generation. Instead, we ended up with you.”

“I’m flattered,” Leah said flatly.

Clarissa reached for a drawer at the bottom of her desk. Finding a sheaf of papers bound together with a metal clip, she placed the contract in front of her employee. “This spells out the conditions of your employment.”

Flipping to the end, Leah discovered the document was fifty-six pages long. Returning to the beginning, she started to read through it. After the first few paragraphs, her brain threatened to rebel from the legalese. “Have you read this?”

From Clarissa’s expression, she knew she had.

“It’s filled with impressively-long words but the terminology’s all so vague. I’m on page twenty-six and I still can’t see what I’m doing or where I’m doing it. For something with so many words, this contract is careful not to say anything.”

“Page 40 talks about money.”

Flipping to the section, Leah read it over. Stunned, she said, “You’re kidding.”

“The government is deadly serious when it comes to money. Every penny of it is yours, as long as you never share a word of your experience outside of this facility.”

“Why so much?”

Clarissa’s green eyes considered her from across the metal plain of the desktop. “We’re paying you to take a vow of silence, not of poverty.”

Leah felt excited. Seconds later, an uneasy feeling settled in the base of her stomach.

Whatever the job ahead, the agency was promising her a monthly stipend for the rest of her life. In the next three years alone, it was more money than she’d ever expected to earn.

An opportunity like this didn’t come without some sizeable strings attached.