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Chapter One
Alisha
“Hello, Laurel. It’s nice to meet you.” Or is it? I’m honestly not sure why I’m even here.
I stare at the stranger, wondering why she requested a meeting with me at her dental practice. This is easily the strangest meeting spot I’ve ever been called to, but I need another job and if she’s looking to hire a personal chef, then I’m here to listen.
She smiles, her beautiful white teeth a testament to the quality of work she does, obviously. Her smile could be an entire promotion for her practice, and they complement her pretty pop-star face perfectly. Her soft brown eyes study my face for a second, then she inhales to speak.
“Thank you for meeting me here.” Her delicate, lyrical voice solidifies my thoughts that she missed her true calling as a pop star. She turns her head, causing her brown ponytail to slip off her shoulder to dangle down her back as she continues to study me. “I wanted to know if you have any availability. You come highly recommended.”
I nod my head. “I do have some availability.”
Her smile widens, the brightness of her teeth nearly blinding. “Excellent! If you don’t mind, please show up to this address. You’ll start work tomorrow.”
I take the slip of paper she’s handing me, wondering if she’s always this old-fashioned. I’m so used to a digital age where people use texts, email, and video apps to communicate that I’d almost forgotten what paper feels like in my hands.
I’m kidding, of course. I love reading smutty novels in my downtime, so I know what paper feels like. Though I’m guilty of enjoying reading on devices too.
I want to ask her why she wanted me to meet her here if she was just going to give me a piece of paper to meet her somewhere else. Everything feels very smoke and mirrors, and I'm kind of worried I'm going to take a dagger in the back at some point.
“Thank you, I think,” I say, tucking the paper into my pocket.
“The passcode for the door is on the paper. Make sure you bring a photo ID to get past the gate.” As she says the words I try to follow along, but I’m confused. Passcode for the door? ID for the gate? Where is she sending me?
“Just to be clear, you know I’m a private chef, right?” This almost sounds like she's planning to have me work in a facility, and I don't do that. Not since... well, that’s not a thought train I want to ride at the moment.
Her words suddenly register and I glance at her. “Wait, I start tomorrow?” That’s pretty short notice, and I have to make arrangements before I can start work anywhere. Most places require at least a few days of planning before just hiring me. I need time to come up with a meal plan, go shopping, and discuss important details like allergies, food preferences, and goals for the person I’m cooking for. Some people hire me to help them lose weight, or eat healthier, or simply because they don’t have time to cook for themselves because some people are workaholics balancing social lives.
She nods her head, blinking her pretty brown eyes. “Yes, tomorrow. Is that a problem?” Her smile dims slightly and something about the way she says the words makes me want to be agreeable. If she needs me to start tomorrow, I'd like to start tomorrow.
Instead of voicing my concerns, I just nod my head, swallowing hard as if that’ll get rid of the nervous tension squeezing my throat. “Tomorrow is fine,” I say.
Is tomorrow fine though? Is it really?
Her face lights up again and she lifts her chin in an expression of approval. “Great!”
“Your next patient is ready,” the front desk girl says, poking her head into the office I’m meeting Laurel in. Laurel stands, adjusting her white skirt with large-printed red flowers before offering me her hand. A diamond bracelet sparkles on her wrist, and I notice the huge diamond on her finger.
“Somebody really wants the world to know you’re theirs,” I say, and she laughs while I shake her soft hand. Her skin might be smooth and cool, but her grip is firm.
“Yeah, my husband is an incredible guy.” She absentmindedly runs a hand across her belly and I smile.
“Congratulations?” I whisper and she stares at me in stunned surprise. I gesture to her midsection. “In my experience, when a woman rubs her hand across her belly like that, it's because she's pregnant.” I keep my voice low, in case I’m wrong or in case I’m right and she’s keeping the news a secret.
“You’re right. And thank you!” She sounds thrilled as she says the words and the front desk girl peeks in again, as if checking to see what the holdup is. “I have to go, but it really is a pleasure meeting you.” She leans toward me with a smile before making her way out of the room, a slight skip in her step.
For the first time, I glance down at the paper in my hand, unfolding it to read the words. I don't recognize the neighborhood, and I'm not sure if this is a private residence or an established business. I can only hope that whoever referred me to Laurel also told her that I do not work outside people’s homes. My worst nightmare would be to find out that I work in a bar or something.
Next to the address are the words Please show up at your earliest convenience. and I lift both shoulders. No time like the present, I suppose. I’d planned to meet about this job today anyway, and this seemed like a preliminary meet and greet, so I’d better go see what all the secrecy is about.
Because this is certainly the strangest set up for a job I’ve ever experienced and some part of me is morbidly curious what’s going to happen next, I can only hope I don’t wind up on the news as “body found.” That would be embarrassing.
Then again, Laurel didn’t seem like a killer, and couples with babies on the way are always calm, reasonable, and easy to get along with, right? Right?
I drive to the location, then stop, staring across the sprawling grassy area separated from the road by a heavy-duty black fence. The oversized gate has a little booth next to tall, heavy cherry-wood pillars and I pull up to the booth.
“ID and business?”
