Quest (The Boys of RDA Book 4) Read online

  “You are set. I’ve installed any programs I thought you might need and downloaded the latest version of Dragons Reborn. She’s for you.”

  “Who’s ready for who?” I’m normally much harder to catch off guard, but today has been the oddest day. I’m not sure what to do with him.

  He taps the lid of a brand-new black laptop, which definitely wasn’t on my desk when I left three hours ago. “Your new laptop. Mr. Moore wanted to make sure I stayed to answer any questions you have.”

  Mr. Moore, huh? “I get how to use a laptop. But you can take it back to Mr. Moore,” I emphasize the Mr. “And tell him thanks, but no thanks.”

  Little wanna be Bill Gates’ face pales, his eyes turning from happiness to concern. “But it’s… I… I,” he stutters over his words. “I’d lose my job.”

  “You would lose your job for bringing back a laptop I don’t want?” Sure, the kid is obviously scared, but Grant’s not the type to fire someone over this. At least I don’t think he is.

  Sensing there’s hope, his words become excited again. “I’m an intern. This is the first task I’ve been given that doesn’t involve a copy machine. I can’t mess it up.”

  “Fine,” I give in. I don’t want to get the poor kid fired. “I’ll handle Mr. Moore myself.”

  He jets around my desk so fast his suit jacket flies out behind him like a cartoon character running from a madman. Except in this case I guess I’m the madman… or woman.

  I sit in my office chair and am forced to lower it a few inches. More points deducted from Little Bill Gates for messing with my chair. My phone is locked in a top desk drawer and I pull it out, making sure not to touch the shiny new laptop. I don’t want it to turn into one of those “you touched it last… you have to keep it” situations.

  Now that I’m alone and the situation is sinking in, my anger grows. Who the hell does Grant think he is?

  CLARE: WTF? A laptop?

  His return text takes longer than this morning, but I don’t grab the sleeve of crackers I plan to eat for lunch today. I’m too angry now. Another minute passes and I tap my fingers on a small portion of the desk, still not touching the laptop. What is he doing? Working? Of course Grant would choose now to work when I want to yell at him.

  Another three minutes and twenty-five seconds later — not that I’m counting — and my phone vibrates.

  GRANT: It’s not flowers.

  CLARE: I said no gifts.

  GRANT: You only negotiated for flowers.

  The texts volley back and forth between us. I don’t put my phone down in between because the next one comes right away. Each time he replies my anger multiplies. And to think I’d started to like the man, but in a few short hours he’s pissed me off again.

  CLARE: That’s crap and you know it, Grant.

  GRANT: I was only helping out a friend. I’d do it for anyone in the group.

  That reply makes me pause for a moment because it’s true. They are a close group of friends and they come off as people who would definitely step up to help someone out. But this isn’t a flat tire or a simple dinner check. A new laptop to play a video game on is not something even a friend would do.

  CLARE: I don’t need your handouts and plus I’m not in the group.

  The RDA girls are cool and I enjoy hanging out with them on occasion, but I’m definitely not a member.

  GRANT: Well they think you are and you don’t disagree with Marissa. She’s vengeful.

  CLARE: I’m not keeping this laptop.

  GRANT: Why do you have to be difficult?

  If he thinks I’m being difficult, the poor man is in for a surprise. This is me being reasonable.

  CLARE: I don’t want it.

  A full minute passes with no return text from Grant. Worry builds as I wait. Is he busy constructing the perfect reply or did he forget about me?

  GRANT: Fine.

  That’s it? I don’t even know what fine means.

  CLARE: Fine, what?

  This text comes at the regular pace again.

  GRANT: I can’t get away from the office right now. Take the laptop home and I will pick it up later.

  CLARE: Fine I’ll be home after five.

  GRANT: Do you need a ride?

  I toss my phone back on the desk in frustration. Why can’t I make him understand? I don’t need anyone to watch after me. I’ve been doing fine on my own for years.

  CLARE: You can’t help yourself can you?

  GRANT: We seem to be at an impasse. I can’t stop offering and you can’t learn to say yes.

  I read his text once, then twice, then a third time. I told Grant we’d never work as friends, but over the last few hours I started not hating the idea. It’s too bad he so easily agreed it won’t work.

  Another text from Grant comes before there’s time to reply.

  GRANT: Let me give you a ride home from work and pick up the laptop too.

  Another offer of help. I can’t handle it and my anger flares up again.

  CLARE: I don’t need a taxi.

  GRANT: Consider me an Uber, but a sexy and safe one.

  My head falls back, shaking at his refusal to take me seriously.

  CLARE: No thanks. I’ve had enough Uber drivers hit on me while I’m in their backseat.

  I sit staring at my screen waiting for it to light up with another text, but when it does, it’s a call. Grant’s face with a goofy lopsided grin stares back at me, the green incoming call button next to it. When he took the photo of himself and then programmed into my phone, I never expected to see the silly shot again so soon.

  “Yes,” I answer with hesitation. It’s possible he didn’t mean to call me. I mean who uses the phone to make calls anymore?

  “You’ve been in cabs where the driver hit on you?”

  “Yeah…” My sentence trails off never really ending.

  Grant sputters for second. “It’s dangerous. You could be killed, kidnapped, or a hundred other horrible things.”

  Now he’s stepping all over me on the phone, not just in text. How does he think I survived for twenty-four years without him by my side?

  “That’s insulting, Grant. I live in Hunter’s Point. I’m capable of taking care of myself. I’ve been doing it since I was a kid.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Whoops. I’ve definitely never shared with Grant my history and the ever-popular San Francisco foster care system. That’s a whole different set of questions I’m not ready to answer.

  “I live blocks from the center. I’m able to get myself home fine. Come pick up the laptop later.”

  Grant sighs. “Fine, tell Drew I’m bringing dinner. See you later.”

  “No you –” he hangs up before I properly threaten him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Someone has pizza.

  The smell trickles in through my opened door and my nose perks up. It’s not uncommon for one of the kids to use their extra money to eat dinner here. It’s a safer space than what many of them go home to. What is totally unfair is the fact it’s against regulations for me to eat any of their pizza. During the school year I eat dinner here most nights, but over the summer I try to make it home. It means by four o’clock my stomach would consider ingesting anything in sight…or smell.

  I should get up and leave my office, but I can’t will my legs to move. I like to spend my last hour with the kids before I hand over the operation of this place to John, the evening help I hired thanks to the successful fundraiser the RDA girls held in April. We’re mostly volunteer supported but free people aren’t always reliable. It’s nice to have someone.

  Of course I can’t leave now. If I go out there, I worry I’ll finish up whatever cheesy goodness is left. My stomach uses the thought to growl in agreement.

  The top right drawer of my desk vibrates, the metal buzzing distracting me from my stomach trying to eat itself.

  Plus, I get cranky when I’m hungry. It’s best I don’t subject myself to pubescent teenagers right now.


  MARISSA: Now that you and Grant are dating can we do couple game nights?

  I wonder where in the hell Marissa heard Grant and I were dating. And how long she waited before texting me. With Marissa, not long. The RDA girls could be a case study on codependence. If I didn’t know Marissa had a sister, I’d assume they were only children searching for an emotional bond they missed out on in childhood.

  CLARE: Grant and I are not dating.

  I stick the phone back in my drawer and close it hoping it’s the end of the conversation.

  But of course it’s not. Twenty-three seconds later when I remove the phone again there’s another message from Marissa waiting.

  MARISSA: Are you sure?

  Did she ask me if I’m sure I’m not dating Grant? Like it’s possible to be in the dark about who you’re dating.

  Before I answer she messages again.

  MARISSA: Because the word on the street is he bought you a laptop and was at your house last night.

  I chuckle. She says “word on the street,” but she means “word in the comic shop,” which is so much less cool. And how do they find these things out? Do they spy on each other? Report back their every movement? I mentioned the codependence, right?

  CLARE: I’m returning the laptop and he didn’t make it past my dining room last night.

  Don’t give me that look — it’s the truth. This is why I have a guy best friend. They don’t ask so many questions. Before I think much about it I tap out another text.

  CLARE: Grant has gone stalker. I need him to back the f up.

  This return text for Marissa takes longer and I waste time staring at my white cinderblock wall, my framed certificate for most caring director hanging from a cheap frame. When the text comes, I’m not nearly as angry.

  MARISSA: Grant can be an all-out guy. I think he’s excited you’re finally talking to him, but I’ll tell him to back off if that’s what you want.

  CLARE: Yes, thanks.

  A pit in the ball of my stomach forms as I punch out the words. Isn’t it what I want? I spent so much time and energy staying away from Grant I never took the time to figure out if it was worth it. Besides the annoying deliveries, it hasn’t been horrible spending time with him. I guess.

  The pizza smell gone, I sigh and stick my phone back in the drawer. It’s too late to take the words back now, and it’s better for everyone if Grant and I part ways before it gets complicated. I’m not interested in learning how he’d react if he ever found out my past.

  “Long day?” John says while plopping down sideways in the chair on the other side of my desk.

  His legs hang over the armrest, dangling in midair and waiting for my reply. One of the reasons he’s so great with the kids is his laid-back, fun personality, but today it grates on me. He’s too much like Grant with his pleasant personality, brown hair and blue eyes.

  I wave away his concern. “Nothing here. Just my personal life.”

  John’s head pops up, a smirk on his face. “Personal life? I wasn’t aware Clare Cunningham had one of those.”

  He makes me laugh as being around John normally does. “On occasion I’ve been known to leave the facilities and partake in certain social activities.”

  “Do these particular social activities involve a man?” His finger points at me. “Because let’s not forget you promised me a drink and I don’t mess with another man’s woman.”

  My eyes almost roll out of my head. “Trust me, I am no man’s woman.”

  “Clare, you’re too hot not to belong to a guy out there.”

  Oh, John. Sometimes I forget under his pretty face he’s a misogynistic pig at times. “You’re confused again. I’m not the type of girl a guy owns.”

  “Which is why I fear you and I will never work out.”

  Standing, I brush off my pants from any invisible debris. “There are many reasons you and I would not work out, John.” I walk to my door ready to be done with this conversation. He’s great with the kids. Really, I swear.

  John follows me out the door. “Did you hear the big news?”

  I stop walking and run through the news I heard today. Stephanie’s mom has a new job so they can stay in their apartment another month. Travis’ uncle might make early parole. And Jackson’s brother was accepted to the military. All big news depending on who you ask.

  “Can’t say I have. What’s the scoop?”

  “Del Fray Technologies was bought out this morning. An under the table thing. No one saw it coming.”

  That is big news. Del Fray Technologies is a large employer in this neighborhood. Many of the kids’ parents have worked there for generations.

  “Do you know who?”

  John shakes his head. “Not a clue. Some investment firm, but it hasn’t hit the papers yet.”

  John attends the local community college business program and always has an update on things going on in the city. He heard about the new Jack-in-the-Box before anyone else, so I don’t spend long questioning his words.

  “Well there’s no sense in speculating. Del Fray used to be a big supporter of the center, but those donations dried up in the last year or two. Let’s hope the new owners will invest in the neighborhood again.”

  “Let’s hope they’re not your typical fat cat who will suck every penny they can from the company to buy themselves a new house.”

  I tilt my head and speak with sarcasm, “Now let’s be fair. No respectable fat cat builds a house. It’s a mansion or nothing. Possibly a yacht.”

  John laughs along with me and then gets serious. “I swear I’m going to use my business degree for good.”

  “I hope you do.” I pat him on the shoulder. For whatever faults he might have, John has a big heart.

  “And then you’ll see how awesome I am and go on that date with me.” He follows me down the long hallway again.

  “John…” I shake my head. I thought we’d gotten over this part of our relationship. “You are way too young for me, but one day you’ll find a great girl.”

  “That’s why you won’t date me? I’m too young?”

  We stop at the beginning of the gym entrance and I use my fingers to list off the reasons I will not be dating John. “I’m twenty-four and you’re twenty. That’s quite an age gap. We work together. And you want to be someone’s big strong husband, who they need for everything. I want a man who understands I don’t need him to plant me flowers. I can garden for my damn self.”

  “You might be right, Clare. We’d be horrible together.” He walks past me entering the gym but stops and looks back, a huge grin on his face. “But we’d have one hell of a time figuring it out.”

  The dribbling of basketballs that covered up his words a moment ago stops.

  “Ohhhhhhhhhh.” The kids turn and stare at John, but only Travis calls him out. “He said a swear word.” Ten index fingers point at John.

  Last summer I instituted a no swearing policy. All it did was make the kids hyperaware of when I swore. “Yeah?” I shake my head and roll my eyes at Travis. “Don’t think I missed that F-bomb you dropped walking in this morning.”

  “That? You got it wrong, Miss C. It must be the echo off these walls. Bad insulation, it messes up my words.”

  “Is that so? It must be a new form of science because I’m sure when I was in school echoes worked differently.”

  Travis throws his hands up in an exaggerated shrug. “That’s a public school education for you.”

  “I’m glad to hear you’re invested in your education, Travis.” John catches the ball one of the kids throws at him and takes control of the situation. “I assume you’ll be seeing more of the hallowed halls this fall.”

  “Let’s not go that far,” Travis says laughing as I walk out of the room and back to my office. The sound of dribbling picks up again and I close my door to block out the distraction and answer any final e-mails of the day. It’s nice having John to help around here. It’s wonderful knowing I can count on him. I spend less time at home worrie
d about what the kids are doing when I’m not here, but I also hate missing out on the fun they’ll have. It’s like we have a weird custody agreement and trade off parenting duties.

  Thirty minutes later I open the top drawer prepared to toss my phone in the large canvas bag I use as a purse, but I notice I’ve missed a text. It must have come in while I was in the gym.

  GRANT: Does Drew have a preference for dinner tonight?

  I’m surrounded by pushy men.

  CLARE: I told you no to bringing me dinner.

  GRANT: I’m not bringing you dinner. I’m bringing Drew dinner.

  His response is lightning fast, and another text comes right after.

  GRANT: But I may have to reschedule. There is a problem in our largest China plant and my grandfather wants me to go in person.

  What kind of life would it be to think you’ll be home for dinner but then run off to China? Like it’s a taxi ride away.

  CLARE: I’m sure he’ll be devastated.

  Not that I would admit it to Grant, Drew, or even myself, but I am a little sad over the missed dinner opportunity. Grant wasn’t so horrible the last time I let him feed me.

  GRANT: I’ll try to never let it happen again. I hope he’ll forgive me.

  I’m worried he’s not talking about Drew anymore.

  CLARE: I’m sure we’ll survive without big sweet Grant here to feed us.

  I roll my eyes while hitting send even if he can’t see me.

  GRANT: Oh were you going to eat with us?

  They might be a text, but his words drip with sarcasm.

  “This man,” I say to the ceiling as a slight curse. I’m starting to worry I’ll never win with him.

  CLARE: Be safe in China, Grant.

  He doesn’t respond before I toss my phone in the canvas bag and throw it over my shoulder making my way out the office door.

  CHAPTER SIX

  “This is a horrible idea,” I yell to Aspen as she walks through the doorway into the darkness.