“Sure can,” he says and starts clicking and typing away on his keyboard. A minute later, he has pulled up the stream of the security camera inside the building. “They should really teach their CEO about basic cyber security.”

  Then he toggles between a few cameras until we finally find Robyn. She is past security already and entering the elevators. When we find her in another camera, she has gotten off the elevator. We watch her breeze past a bunch of receptionists and employees until she reaches a large double door that she throws open without hesitation. Sure enough, she made it into Ryker Grayson’s office in less than ten minutes.

  “They should teach him about general security as well, it seems,” Earnest remarks and shifts in his seat, eager to see what happens next.

  The two of us stare at the screen, while Paige and Guy wait for updates.

  “They’re talking,” I explain, wondering what she could be telling him.

  “Now they’re walking,” Earnest adds a little later.

  They get on the elevator again and when they get off, we lose the right feed. It takes Earnest a second to find them again down in the parking lot where Ryker holds the door to his limousine for our secret agent.

  “Start the car,” I tell Guy, who nods, puts his pair of aviator sunglasses back on and buckles in.

  All four of us watch the limousine pull out of an underground parking garage, then Guy shifts into drive and follows the car.

  “Check his calendar,” I tell Earnest. “What is his next appointment?”

  “Lunch.”

  “Oh.” Guy lets his sunglasses slide down the bridge of his nose a little and looks at me in the rearview mirror. “Today’s meatloaf day, Sienna!”

  “Mashed potatoes?” Earnest’s shoulder bumps into mine so he, too, can see Guy.

  “Does the pope wear a funny hat?”

  “I am not sure. We might have different definitions of what’s funny.”

  “Alright, does Sienna have a thing for that billionaire guy?”

  “Mashed potatoes it is!”

  Gently, I push Earnest back in his seat. “Please, focus, Guy. Do not lose the car and definitely do not cause an accident.”

  “Sienna, Sienna, Sienna,” he replies without a worry in the world. “Do you think this is my first car chase? As you can tell by my skillful driving,” he activates the left turn signal when taking a right turn, “I have done this before.”

  “You have?”

  “Certainly! Numerous times… at the carnival in those little bumpy cars.” Guy pushes his sunglasses back up and turns on the radio. “But I promise to refrain from any bumping whatsoever.” Our car swerves a little when he tries to avoid a pothole. I grab the Chairman, hold him tight and make sure my seatbelt is properly buckled in.

  It takes another 15 minutes until the car ahead of us finally stops and I realize where we are.

  13

  RYKER

  Look, it’s not like I don’t enjoy it when women throw themselves at me. It happens every so often and it’s flattering. It’s just that usually they’re not two or three times my senior. They’re usually also not holding me at gun-point while asking me all sorts of invading questions and writing down the answers on a notepad.

  “How long have you been single then?” The woman, who introduced herself as Robyn Banks, asks as we get out of my car.

  For a second, I consider overpowering her or at least letting Miles know to get away and call for help, but she is an old lady. I could never hurt her and I wouldn’t want the police to hurt her either. And despite the gun, she doesn’t seem like an actual risk to herself or anyone else, to be honest.

  “Why? Are you looking for a husband?” I ask with a smile.

  She laughs and waits for me to close the door, the hand with the gun still in her coat’s pocket. “Oh, I doubt you could handle me, sweetheart. Besides, I probably just look like a criminal right now, and that’s almost never a sound foundation for a sustainable relationship. Neither is dating someone who actually lived through the California Gold Rush, by the way.”

  I can’t help but laugh at the deprecating humor and offer my arm for her to hold on to. Together, we walk towards the big building complex in front of us. It’s a little past its prime, but, just like my kidnapper, it still has a lot of charm.

  Maybe this isn’t so bad.

  I mean, sure, I might find myself tied up in a basement, but at least I won’t have to work on Saturdays anymore. Plus, I bet Phoenix and Ben would get a kick out of this when I’ll send them a postcard from the old folks’ home.

  “You know, I’m fairly certain you might be interested in my granddaughter,” Robyn adds eventually and pats my hand.

  “Oh,” I reply as I open the big door at the entrance for her, “I am not really looking to date anyone at the moment to be honest.”

  “That’s precisely what she would say too. I’ll make introductions later on.”

  Obviously, this should be entirely out of the question, but if this granddaughter is anything like her grandma, she’s probably got some serious spunk. I guess this is already a somewhat convenient abduction to get away from work, and if my gut feeling is right, it might turn out to be a very entertaining one as well.

  The entrance hall is spacious. A few older folks are lounging on benches, and, from behind a counter, a pair of eyes shoot up when they discover us marching their way. The man at reception gets up with a big grin and greets us, “Welcome to our little halfway-house to heaven… or hell.” He winks at Robyn, who smirks in response and throws her scarf over her shoulder.

  “Table for two?” Paul Bearer, as it says on the little plaque that’s crookedly screwed onto the counter, asks. Robyn nods and hooks even tighter into my arm. He sinks back down into his chair with a grin and motions to his left. “Well, enjoy Seasoned Supper. Best Geezers Grubhub in town!”

  The two of us make our way through another door and into an old-timey cafeteria, though with the high ceilings and intricate decor, it looks more like a ballroom than the old folks’ canteen it is. Robyn guides us to the serving counter where she picks the special of the day for both of us. A minute later, we’re sitting down at an empty table in the middle of the room while more and more seniors gather for lunch. My watch says 11:56 AM.

  “Please, don’t get me wrong,” I state as I reach for the cutlery. “And definitely please don’t shoot me. I have —to my surprise— been enjoying being kidnapped by you quite a bit. But you still haven’t told me why. Did I do something to you in any way? Do you need something from me?”

  Robyn looks up from her plate when a bunch of people plunge down next to us on the empty chairs.

  “These aren’t taken yet, are they?” A man asks cheerfully, takes off his pilot glasses and slides them in his collar. “It’s meatloaf day!”

  I nod slowly, then shift my gaze to another old guy to my right who quietly repeats ‘Meatloaf!’ to the meatloaf on his plate. Next to him, a grandma who looks like she knits sweaters that would make even the most fashionable of hipsters jealous, has taken a seat. And next to her is an empty chair that appears to get strangled by two hands digging into the backrest.

  Sienna de la fucking Vega.

  I almost drop my fork.

  From my left, the guy with the sunglasses reaches out, puts his pointer under my chin and closes my mouth on my behalf. “It’s impolite to stare,” he whispers with a wink.

  “You did this?” I grumble, trying to wrap my head around what’s happening here.

  “No,” she answers with a tight jaw. “Meatloaf did this.”

  Pilot Glasses chuckles and singsongs, “Well, I would do anything for⁠—”

  “Don’t,” Sienna cuts him off with a stare that’s a lot less sunny than usual, then she reluctantly takes the last seat at the table.

  I look around, as they are exchanging glances with each other, and wonder what I have been dragged into here. “Wait, is that a cat on a leash?” I ask when I discover a black fur ball jumping onto the quiet guy’s lap.

  “He’s perceptive,” Pilot Glasses says. “Maybe we should ask him to join our little group of amateur detectives.”

  “Amateur delinquents,” Sienna says under her breath.

  Finally, Robyn takes the reign. “Well, Mr. Grayson.” She adjusts her chair. “May I call you Ryker?”

  I nod.

  “Well, Ry-Ry. As promised, I’d like you to meet my granddaughter, Sienna. Who I think you already know… intimately.” Her gaze flickers from me to Sienna and back.

  Sienna closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. Her usual audacious, somewhat unpredictable aura is a little tense, to say the least. She does not seem to enjoy this. At all. Me, on the other hand, I am almost delighted, definitely entertained, and suddenly even less worried about getting shot.

  “That we do,” I answer, barely able to hide my smile. “That we do. So, you are her grandma.”

  “No, she isn’t.” Sienna waves me off.

  “Adopted grandma,” Robyn explains and gently pats her (adopted) grandchild on the back.

  “And we are her grandpas,” Pilot Glasses adds. “This is Earnest and I’m Guy.”

  Earnest nods my way and peers down at my plate.

  “And this,” Guy points towards the woman next to Earnest, “is Paige Turner, my ex-wife and the love of my life.”

  Mrs. Turner chuckles sheepishly and greets me as well, “It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Grayson.”

  “The pleasure is all mine,” I answer, and let my hand brush over my stubble.

  When I got up this morning, I certainly didn’t expect any of this. Then again, you barely ever expect to get abducted by your one-night-stand’s adopted grandmother. My phone buzzes in my pocket. It’s my secretary, Barbara, likely calling about the lunch appointment that I am missing at this moment. I press ignore. There are more important things to do right now than to discuss investment opportunities in the real-estate sector. Like finding out what I am doing here, or torturing the woman across from me. “So,” I start, “before I am going to ask for embarrassing pictures of teenage Sienna —emphasis on embarrassing— I still would like to know why I am here.”

  “For the meatloaf,” Earnest states matter of fact.

  Sienna releases a long, drawn-out noise that, since it oozes of annoyance, is music to my ears. “Fine. Fine. It’s quite simple, really. A big misunderstanding, if you will, and there’s no need to make a big deal out of this. We were just… investigating you a little. Now that I am working for—” she cuts herself off. “Now that you are my client. I thought it necessary to do my due diligence on you. You know, to be able to properly do my job. I need to know what kind of person you actually are, what parts of the rumors actually are true. So me and my —now former— friends here, were staking out your office.”

  “Not friends,” Guy whispers. “Family.”

  Sienna continues, “My plan was to shadow you for a bit, interview a few of your employees, maybe talk to a few of the journalists who have done stories on you. And for some inexplicable reason I brought,” she angrily motions around the table, “them along.”

  “It’s because she needs us,” Mrs. Turner says gently and pushes Sienna’s plate closer to her. “Your food is getting cold, dear. Eat!”

  “Do you do that with all your clients? Stalk them?” I ask, entertained by Sienna’s adorably exasperated expression.

  “Only when she’s interested in them,” Robyn answers before her granddaughter can. “Be that as it may,” she turns to Sienna, “you’ll be delighted to hear: I have done all the work you planned on doing. While we drove over here, I found out everything we needed to know.” Robyn retrieves the little notepad she had in the car earlier. “Single, no kids, never married, lives alone, can support a family, enjoys ‘80s music, his favorite food is ‘fast and efficient’, whatever that’s supposed to mean, he’s a little scared of guns and, most importantly, he is not, and has never been, associated with any white supremacists. He’s just a good brother who should learn how to shut off auto-correct.”

  “Interesting, interesting, so what are your intentions with our little girl?” Guy chimes in from the side, and is quickly joined by Earnest, who turns towards me with his bushy eyebrows, and a butter knife pointing my way.

  A laugh escapes me. I almost feel bad for what I am planning here. Not because of Sienna (she more than deserves this) but because of her friends (or family) who really seem to care about her. And despite the kidnapping and their invasive questions, they are an endearing bunch. “You seem quite involved in your granddaughter’s life,” I observe and ignore the ludicrous question about my intentions.

  “You would be too if you got to know her,” Guy begins and one after the other tells stories about how Sienna helps them with their weekly shopping, with their trips to the doctors, with setting alarms for their medication. They tell me how she keeps them company so they’re not lonely, how she takes them for walks so they stay fit, and how she keeps them up-to-date about the latest scams. It’s almost as if she’s hiding a genuinely decent person beneath all that impudence and mouthiness.

  When they’re finished, Sienna lets out a sigh, crosses her arms, and leans back in her chair. “All that praise and then they collectively go and choose meatloaf over me.”

  “I guess they would do anything for loaf,” I say and watch as Guy almost chokes on a lump of potato.

  “Meatloaf, that is,” he coughs with a grin that highlights the gentle crow’s feet around his eyes.

  For the next hour or two, I sit and chat with the wrinkle of seniors (or whatever you call a group of old people). Robyn tells me about the death of her fourth husband (though I have a feeling, she might be pulling my leg), Paige invites me to their weekly knitting group, Guy asks me to attend the play his theatre group is going to perform, and Earnest inquires if he can finish my lunch when he notices that I have barely touched it. All the while, Sienna pouts, her eyes fixed on me.

  I could probably get used to this.

  My phone rings again. It’s Bruce, probably calling to see if I have made any progress with my PR consultant plan yet. As it turns out, I have. So I put the phone away and get out of my chair.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude,” I explain, “but Sienna and I should really get going. We have some business to attend to after all.”

  14

  SIENNA

  Rule #3: Do not get caught.

  It sounds simple. It really is simple, if you think about it, and yet I was dumb enough to let it happen. I violated rule number three, and this is what I get for it. That’s why I have that rule in the first place, to prevent the repercussions from my own (once in a while, possibly, less than ideal) actions, to avoid having to spend an entire day with Mr. You’re Abducting Me So I’m Abducting You Right Back.

  It could have been so easy. Observe him from a safe distance, gather some information, spend only as much time as required during office hours with him, don’t get fired for at least two weeks, don’t murder him, maybe fix his image somehow against all odds, cash the reward, save Robyn, and live happily ever after (far away from him). Too bad the O-Team had to cross my plans.

  Next time the remote refuses to work, I’ll refuse to help them. Backstabbing bunch of geriatrics.

  “What are you waiting for?” Ryker closes the button on his suit. His hands are veiny, and big, and gorgeous, and life is unfair.

  “A slow death,” I answer.

  “All in due time. For now, you’re coming with me. You get to spend the entire weekend with me so you can ask all the questions you want, and find out everything you need to… how did you put it? Be able to properly do your job?”

  “I would love to, unfortunately there is that other thing I was planning to do and I’m really looking forward to that, so…”

  He glares at me while pushing his chair back under the table. “And what would that be?”

  “Getting a lobotomy,” I say, and follow it up with a pained wail. Robyn just kicked me under the table. Hard. I really wish her heels were less pointy. I double down in defiance. “Besides, I neither know how to play golf, nor would I be allowed entrance in a strip club, and I’d hate to ruin all of your weekend plans.”

  Would I though? I mean, he’s clearly asking for it. Okay, that sounds bad. Even in my head. But it does seem like he actually wants to start our little game early. So why shouldn’t I make money to save Robyn right away? Fuck.

  Ryker crosses his arms and stares at me.

  “Fine,” I say. “It’s not like you don’t deserve what’s coming to you.” Me, I think. “I’ll be on the clock, starting now. The terms of the contract that I sent you apply.”

  If I make it to next Friday, I’d receive my first paycheck. $5000. That alone would go a long way.

  Ryker leaves without a comment, and everyone is looking at me. Somewhat defeated, I get up, say goodbye to my cat, and follow my new client. I look down at my baggy hoodie, yoga pants and fuzzy socks in boots. Could be worse, I think to myself. At least they are my good yoga pants. Sure, I could run up to my apartment and put on some proper clothes, matching underwear, and makeup, but that would just give him the wrong idea. It would look like I am making myself pretty specifically for him, which would send the wrong signals entirely. We can’t have that. Instead, I only fix my hair a little and try to catch up.

  Ryker is chatting with Paul when I do.

  “Ah, there comes your date,” Paul exclaims in a good mood when he sees me. “I was just telling your boyfriend about my plan to rename this place ‘Tomorrow’s Compost’. All that’s missing is a slide from our roof to the cemetery across the street.”

  “I’d take that slide right into an early grave before I’d be his girlfriend, Paul.”

  “And I’d be happy to grease the slide before she gets on it.” Ryker chuckles and bids our receptionist goodbye before we leave for his car. I’m not sure I like this cheerful side of him.

  He checks his watch, then tells his driver to take us to some place called ‘The Wiggle Room’.