Chapter 13

Ashley

Gina is in a MOOD. I don't know what her issue is, but she's getting on my last fucking nerve. Half the morning she moped around the office and acted like she'd lost her best friend, and now, going into the afternoon, she's so pissed off you can't get near her. It's like sharing a workspace with a feral cat.

"Ashley, if you have time to lean then you have time to clean," Gina all but spits the words at me.

I glance down at the spotless counter in front of me. I've cleaned it three times. I've swept, mopped, vacuumed where necessary and dusted all the shelves adjacent to the checkout. Which is all I'm supposed to do, because she has insisted that I never be more than ten feet from the register unless I'm on my break or she's there to cover it. "Gina, if I clean this counter again, I'm gonna wear a hole in it. What is wrong with you today?"

"I am your employer, Ashley. If I tell you to do something, then you do it. End of story," she snaps back.

"No. It's obvious to me that something is bugging you. I don't know what it is, but I'm damn sure it isn't me," I reply. "I'm not gonna stand here and take verbal abuse from you because somebody else put you in a bad mood."

She glares at me for a minute, and I brace myself to get fired for not keeping my big mouth shut. Then the strangest thing happens. Her face just crumples, and she starts to sob. Big, deep, gulping sobs that make her whole body shake.

"Lock the door," she manages, almost hyperventilating. "And come to the office."

Not what I expected when I called her on the verbal abuse thing. We went from me being her verbal punching bag to now being her confidante? Half curious and half wishing I was anywhere but here, I do as she says and lock the door. I flip the closed sign around and then head to the back. Gina is seated at her desk, and she's pulled herself together a little. I mean, she's still a hot‐ass mess, but at least she's coherent.

I sink down into the less than comfy chair that faces her desk. The damn thing has been there since the dawn of time and if the seat cushion was ever padded, it's long since given up the ghost and flattened beneath the weight of countless behinds. "Alright, Gina … what gives?"

"This goes nowhere. If it gets out?—"

"It won't be from me, Gina. I'm not an idiot," I reply.

She nods, takes a shaky breath, and then the words just rush out. "David is having an affair … It's not the first one either. But this one is different. I think he's going to leave me for her."

That is not what I expected. Money problems. Her parents' health. Infertility, since I know that not having kids is a huge hot button for her. But not that Mr. Piety himself, church deacon and public servant, is fucking around. "Do you know who with?"

"I didn't. Not until the other day … It's Nikki."

"Nikki who?"

She looks at me like I'm an idiot. "How many Nikkis do you know?"

Valid question with a very damning answer—I only know one and she works for my father. Well, "works" might not be exactly the term. He pays her. What she does for him … I don't want to know. "Oh. That's why you hate Doogie."

"No. I hate him because he's the cause of all this. David never strayed until he started doing business with your father. And I don't hold that against you. I know it might seem like that sometimes, but I don't. He's done you as wrong as everyone else in this town."

That's a little too much to unpack right now. I'm not used to Gina having honest‐to‐god empathy for anyone, especially me. There are also bigger fish to fry. Rotten fish, at that. "What kind of work do they do together?"

"Well, the apartments."

No. No. David is head of the Public Housing Authority and he shouldn't have any dealings with my Dad. At all. Unless … "Gina, it got out about six months ago that you all were on the verge of losing your house. And now, things have turned around. But nothing has really changed business‐wise here and I doubt that David got that significant of a raise. He's taking bribes from my father?"

"I don't know. I know that some nights when I thought David was meeting with Nikki he was actually meeting with your dad. And whatever it is that he's in to with him—well, it can't be good, can it?"

She doesn't know the half of it. For years, Doogie has been gaming the system. He'd rent an apartment to someone with a Section 8 housing voucher and then "persuade" them to claim more people were living there than actually did. That allowed him to boost their rent and get more money out of the government. Super illegal and cagey as hell. The tenants wouldn't tell because it would get them fined and jeopardize their eligibility. It's the perfect scam with captive marks. And now he's got David Daniels, the director of the Public Housing Authority for Bellehaven, in his pocket? And it's no accident that Nikki is sleeping with him.

"Nikki will not leave Doogie. Whatever else is going on, I know that to be the absolute truth. They are peas in a pod—both of them shady and greedy as hell. I think, if you're right and something is happening between them, it's more because my father wanted to have dirt on David to keep him in line for whatever scam he's cooking up." And then it hits me. "You hired me because you wanted another way in … a way to check up on David, Doogie and Nikki. Didn't you?"

Gina won't look me in the eye and that is confirmation enough. "That's not my only reason. I know I was a horrible person to you when we were in school. I've not been much better since. But I am trying to be better, Ashley. I may fail at it a lot, but I am trying."

"You're succeeding at it more than you think," I tell her, shocked that there's a ring of truth to that. "I mean, you can be a hard ass, but I'm not exactly employee‐of‐the‐month material. Sullen, bad tempered, crappy attitude, and a boulder‐sized chip on my shoulder … I'm a pain in the ass."

Gina laughs. It's watery and a little bit weak, but still a laugh. "You are all those things. But I've not made it easy for you to be enthused about this job. I'll try to be better, and you do the same. I think we'll get on fine."

I nod. "I'll find out what I can for you … without telling anyone what I know or what you suspect. But you need to talk to David. Not just check out of here and follow him around. You have to confront him."

She only nods. It's obvious that break time and confession time are over. "I'll head back up front and reopen the store," I tell her. "You should hang out in here until you've calmed down a little."

"Are you saying I'm an ugly crier?"

"Worse than Kim K," I reply. "You're splotchy. Very splotchy."

And that is when Gina Carpenter‐Daniels utters a word that no church lady ought to.