Page 18 of Love Under the Microscope
Zelda seems to be an odd mix of sexy and cute. I’m not interested in a relationship, but I have the feeling I’ll enjoy getting to know her. I just wish I knew how she wanted me to help her. For all I know, she needs help packing and moving to a new place. If that’s the case, maybe I’ll get pizza and beer out of it.
I just hope I hear from her sooner than later because I don’t want Drew’s source to piss off mine before I get the information I need.
Less than twenty-four hours later, I walk from the Link station with purposeful steps to a coffee shop near Zentello. That’s where Zelda wants to meet, and like yesterday, she only gave me an hour’s notice.
Of course I’d been working from home, and my neighbor, who broke her foot, asked me to take Puffy to the dog park for her. That’s where I was when Zelda got in touch with me, so I hurried back to my apartment building to drop off the dog and headed to the Link. I didn’t have time to change, but at least it’s not muddy out, so no paw prints can be seen on my pants and hoodie.
I spent last night researching Zelda. I thought she might be Nate’s sister. It turns out she’s his ex-wife. I’m not sure who they paid to scrub her from the internet, but there’s not much about her. However, I discovered a video of her doing karaoke at Randy’s, a local bar, during the bachelorette party for a scientist named Sophie two years ago. Zelda looked sexy in leather pants and a tiny sequined vest top, and her voice wasn’t that bad.
I open the door to the coffee shop. Zelda sits at a table for two, a vision in a cream satin blouse with her hair in a high ponytail—without a pen sticking out of it. When she spots me, she waves and points at the coffee pot and two mugs on the table, indicating she ordered for us both. She must not be able to leave being an assistant behind. Talk about loving her job.
I pull out the empty chair. “Sorry I’m late.”
“You’re not. The coffee just arrived, so it’s hot.”
I sit and watch Zelda pour us a cup each. “Nice place.”
“Yes.” She motions to the pot and cups on the table. “I love how you order your own coffee pot and just refill your own cup when you want more. I hate having to ask the server.”
“Why? That’s their job.”
“We all have jobs, but that doesn’t mean we can’t treat people with kindness and respect.” The emotion in Zelda’s voice makes me wonder if she speaks from experience. “I always feel awkward, like I’m ordering them around like they’re my servant or something.”
“Leave a big tip.”
“Always.” She winks, and I like the way her long lashes flutter. She raises her cup. “I don’t have much time, but I wanted to discuss our first steps.”
“First steps to what?” The familiar thrill of a new story bubbles in the pit of my stomach. A part of me wants to ask her about Nate Lowe, but I might keep that tidbit for later. “The interview with Mr. Z?”
She reaches into her purse and pulls out a folded piece of paper. This one is larger than what Drew gave me yesterday. “Here are the answers to your questions. When you have more, email them to me, and I’ll give them to Mr. Z.”
I unfold the piece of paper. My questions and answers are typed out. I want to read his answers, but I don’t want to be rude. “Thanks.”
She picks up her mug with both hands, blows on her coffee, and takes a sip. Her eyes flutter shut for a few seconds, and she smiles as if totally satisfied by what she tastes. “Read the answer to your final question.”
Well, since I have permission, my gaze travels to the bottom. I do a double take and look up at her. “Mr. Z thinks the magazine’s source is an executive at UnoPharm. Who? And why?”
I glance around to make sure no one is paying attention to us. Something I probably should’ve done before I opened my mouth.
She studies me, her gaze narrowing as she appraises me like a test sample under a microscope. “That can be your next two questions. I’m not privy to the reasons.”
“Zelda, I need more.”
“I need to know if Mr. Z can trust you.”
“I signed the NDA.”
“That gives a certain sense of security. But honesty is important.”
Hmm. Her use of honesty and trust tells me she has issues. She appears to be an intelligent woman, which means she should know…“Anyone can say they’re honest, even if they’re not. People lie all the time.”
She raises a finely arched brow. “Do you include yourself in that assessment?”
“No.” The word shoots out. “You gave me your word yesterday, and I’ll give you mine today. I’m not here to screw you over. This exclusive could change my career for the better. I’m not going to play games and mess that up.”
“Noted.” Her flippant tone bristles. She takes another sip of coffee. “You must think highly of your writing if this one piece will make such a difference.”
“My work speaks for itself.” I take a sip of my drink. Not bad.
