Home > Wicked Games (Deadly Cool #3)(9)

Wicked Games (Deadly Cool #3)(9)
Author: Gemma Halliday

I slid off my seat, taking our cue to go. "Of course."

"Thank you," she said. Then she slipped off her stool and pulled me in for a hug.

It was so unexpected that I froze for a second and just stood there with my arms pinned to my sides in her embrace that smelled of lavender and vanilla.

When she pulled away, her lashes were wet with tears again. "I just can't believe he's gone," she said.

Sam and I mumbled some more condolences as she walked us to the door, and I left feeling awkward and sad—like I'd done a really terrible job of comforting a grieving girl.

Sam blew out a sigh as we got into the elevators again. "I never thought I'd feel this sorry for a gorgeous model."

I nodded. "I feel awful for her." I paused. "Assuming she had nothing to do with Simon's death."

"She seemed pretty broken up," Sam added, hitting the button for the ground floor.

"She's also taking acting classes," I noted.

"That's a good point," Sam said. "But if we're talking motive to want Connor dead, I'm gonna have to go with the partner."

I nodded. "Phoebe Lyons. I wonder if their split was really mutual."

"Or if Connor ditched her as soon as a better offer came along."

"I was wondering the same thing back there," I said as we stepped off the elevator and back out into the sunshine.

Sam pulled out her phone as I shielded my eyes from the glare. She did some typing and scrolling as we strolled back through the rows of boutiques. "It looks like Sophia was right. Phoebe is still running Peak Games. Can't see that they've put out anything new since Connor left though."

"Are they local?" I asked, looking over her shoulder as we backtracked toward the bus stop.

She nodded. "They've got an address in Sunnyvale." She clicked through another link. "Oh, and look at this! They're interviewing interns this weekend."

"You looking for a summer job?" I asked.

Sam grinned at me. "Noooo…but it sounds like the perfect cover to get into their offices to talk to Phoebe Lyons."

"Whoa." I put up my hands in a halting motion. "Sunnyvale is like two bus rides away. I don't even know what line goes that far north. We're looking at like an hour at least. Both ways."

Sam pursed her lips. "True." She held her phone up again, switching to her contacts screen. "Which leaves us with only one question."

I hated to even ask… "What?"

"Who do we call for a ride? Kevin or Chase?"

 

 

CHAPTER FIVE

 

 

Fifteen minutes later we were standing on Winchester at the bus stop, when Chase's Camaro came roaring to a stop at the curb. A cloud of exhaust arrived a split second after he did.

In Sam's defense, she had texted her brother Kevin first. But he'd replied with a no can do. Turns out, Sam's parents had taken the opportunity of the long weekend to stage an intervention to get Kevin to move out of the basement and into his own place. Again. At last count this was their fourth attempt.

So we'd been stuck with either learning the peninsula bus route, or calling Chase. I'd argued in favor of the bus right up until Chase had pulled up, hence our location at the stop where I'd been praying I'd see the number 60 amble down the street before the Deathmobile arrived.

Clearly I was not on the angels' good list that day.

"You ladies call for a ride?" Chase joked, rolling down the passenger side window and leaning across the interior of his car. He was dressed in his usual uniform of dark jeans and a black T-shirt with a logo on it from some band I'd never heard of. This one featured a scary looking clown holding a knife, and I'd swear the mocking grin totally matched the one showing off Chase's white teeth.

"Thanks," Sam told him.

I held off on the thank yous. If I arrived in one piece, I'd be grateful then. Now was still the time for prayers.

Sam opened the passenger door and climbed into the back seat.

I just stood there on the hard concrete a moment, gaze going down the street, hoping to catch a glimpse of a big safe bus.

"You coming?" Chase asked.

"Maybe."

Sam rolled her eyes. Chase grinned and gunned his engine. Twice.

"So not convincing me," I told him.

Sam tapped the top of her wrist, where no watch rested. "You want to get this story today maybe?"

"Fine!" I relented with one last look down the bus-less street.

I gingerly slid onto the passenger seat, trying not to inhale the musty combo of old leather and fresh oil. I barely locked my seat belt in place before Chase gunned the engine again. We lurched away from the curb, and I white knuckled the armrest and shut my eyes. I made all sorts of mental promises to be kinder to my little cousins, do all my homework on time, and keep my room clean if I could just be delivered to Sunnyvale in one piece.

Several promises later, we finally pulled up to the address Sam had for Peak Games. I let out a long breath as we eased into a parking spot in the small lot and the car stopped vibrating.

Peak was located on the second floor of a strip mall, above a small health food store with a window display of superfoods—fish oil, wheatgrass, hemp seeds, seaweed flakes, goji berries, matcha tea. Mom would have loved the place. I made a mental note to never tell her about it.

I followed Chase and Sam through a lobby and up a narrow staircase, breathing deeply to get my adrenaline under control again after Mr. Chase's Wild Ride. Once we pushed through the doors, we stepped into a large, open room with a reception counter in front of several rows of desks. Most looked empty, which was not surprising being that it was a weekend. To our right sat a wall of monitors, all playing scenes from the company's games. While I didn't have first-hand player knowledge of any, I did spot characters dressed in sort of warrior-goddess attire and guessed that they were the series that Connor Simon had developed.

Beside the monitors half a dozen young people sat in hard plastic chairs looking nervous. Most were dressed in jeans and T-shirts, but one guy in a full-blown suit jiggled his knee up and down, looking like he was going to pass out any minute. Clearly some people wanted this internship more than others. Despite all of the bodies, the chatter was at a minimum, and those talking were hushed about it.

"May I help you?" a woman asked from behind the counter. She had dark hair in braids and a smattering of freckles along her cheeks.

"Hi," Chase said, taking the lead. "We're here to interview with Phoebe Lyons for the intern position."

"Did you fill out the online application?" she asked.

"Uh…" Chase looked to Sam. She shrugged. "No. We didn't."

"That's fine," the woman said, grabbing a couple of papers from a stack on the counter. "Put your name on the list, and you can fill out an application while you wait. Ms. Lyons is conducting interviews on a first-come first-served basis today." She glanced around the room. "So, you probably have a little bit of a wait before she's ready to see you."

Fab. I glanced at my phone, noting the time. Mom still thought I was at the library doing schoolwork with Sam. Which, I sorta had been—I mean I was doing work on a story for a school paper. But if this dragged on too long, I had a bad feeling she'd get wise and start wondering where I was. Mom was no dummy. She knew I'd never last at the library for more than two hours.

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