High-Caliber Concealer Read Free Page A

Jackson for nine years, are you?”
    “No, I’m just impressed that once again your
entire history is one big grey area.”
    “What do you mean?” asked Nikki,
startled.
    “Well, you’re Canadian, but not.”
    “I was born in Canada and my father’s
Canadian.”
    “You’re from Seattle, but not.”
    “I lived in Seattle from high school on, and
everyone knows where Seattle is. It’s easier to say Seattle.”
    “You work for a make-up company, but you
don’t sell make-up.”
    “The Carrie Mae Foundation does a lot of
good work.”
    “I’m not saying there aren’t good reasons.
I’m saying, is anything ever an absolute with you?” He spoke with a
smile, but Nikki sensed he was serious. He didn’t like
surprises.
    “My life is… complex.” It was the best
explanation she could come with.
    “Baby, I work for the CIA and my life is
less complex,” he said dryly. “And with your tendency to get into
gun battles and what-not, forgive me if I’m suspicious.”
    “There’s nothing to be suspicious of,” said
Nikki, firmly.
    He parked the car in her slot and turned off
the engine. “Yeah,” he said pausing, hand still on the ignition.
“Maybe.” He turned his head and smiled at her, his sleepy brown
eyes twinkling and his mouth curving into the smile that made her
heart do back-flips. “Now about those shoes…”
     

July
III
Breakfast
    Nikki’s eyelids popped open as if they were
on springs. California sunshine filtered through the shades,
dragging her from dreams about Kaniksu Falls. The image of her
grandparent’s farm still floated before her eyes. She rolled over
to check the time and realized Z’ev was in the way. Sitting up with
a smile, she leaned over to kiss him awake, but hesitated when she
saw the clock. The red LED display claimed it was 6:45. Nikki
yawned and stretched. It was too early to be awake on a Sunday.
    Thinking of home reminded her of Donny, and
she frowned as she went into the bathroom. Last night, she’d been
certain that Donny could handle whatever came up, but this morning
it seemed worrisome that he was so far away from any back up or
support. Spitting out toothpaste, she came to a decision. If Donny
was in trouble, it wasn’t going to wait until Monday.
    Nikki got dressed quietly and slipped out of
the apartment, pausing to leave Z’ev a note that included a whole
string of x’s and o’s. She never knew when he was going to be
called into work, so she figured it was important to make sure all
written communications included a quantity of hugs and kisses.
    Gliding into LA proper with the top down on
the sky-blue Chevy Impala, Nikki enjoyed the sunny Sunday morning
and lack of traffic. She thought again about selling the car. It
was a gas-guzzler, had a turning radius of a city block, and still
smelled faintly of Val’s cigarettes and perfume. It was damaging,
old-fashioned, and unnecessarily flashy. Basically, it was the car
version of Valerie Robinson. But she loved that Z’ev had laughed
out loud when he’d seen it for the first time and then wanted to
drive. She loved that she got nods from the homeboys when she was
out. To be perfectly honest, she loved the car. Nikki cranked the
radio loud enough to be heard over the rushing wind and put her
foot down on the gas.
    “I’m just not ready to let you go,” said
Nikki and patted the dash, so she could pretend she was talking to
the car.
    Nikki pulled up in front of a towering,
glass-faced office building that was the west-coast headquarters of
the Carrie Mae Foundation, and then turned down into the parking
garage underneath the building. Even on a Sunday morning, there
were a few cars in the parking garage but Nikki recognized Rachel
White’s new, red, VW bug with the Ben Hur style rims. Rachel ran
the research and development department, more commonly known as
Wonderland, in the basement of Carrie Mae. Nikki made a mental note
to pop down and thank her for the acetylene torch / hairspray can.
It had