The Fifth Lesson (The Bay Boys #2) (4 page)

She’d need to write an introduction about the gallery exhibit, detail all the artists and their work, write up a report about funding and donations, collect statistics…her mind was already a jumbled mess just thinking about it.
 
Christie thought Joseph had finished the press kit weeks ago, since he told her he’d been working on it.
 
Now, she knew it was among one of his many lies.

Her inbox beeped again.

It was another email from Joseph.

To: Christie Allaway

From: Joseph Blickley

Subject: Also…

I’ve reviewed your painting for the Fall exhibition.
 
I’m going with Jane Thomas’ piece instead.
 
I’m sure you understand.
 
You can try again next year.

She had to reread it five times before it sunk in.

When his words processed, she was strangely numb.
 
Like the calm before the storm.
 
But when it hit, it hit
hard
.

Something in her snapped.
 
She started trembling with fury, her mind racing and loud even in her drunken state.

That fucking asshole!

Jane Thomas?
 
Her submission had
nothing
to do with the exhibit.
 
Joseph himself had called her photograph ‘dismal at best.’
 
She’d even walked in on him laughing about it over the phone with one of the gallery donors.

His rejection of Christie’s painting was a slap in the face.
 
And he damn well knew it.
 
He’d given her false hope, going so far as to encourage her to submit something for the exhibit, when he obviously hadn’t had any intention of accepting her work.

Well, she was done with him.
 
She couldn’t stand his sleazy comments, his laziness, or his cruelty any longer.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned
.

She hit the reply button.

To: Joseph Blickley

From: Christie Allaway

Subject: Re: Also…

Dear Joseph,

Thank you for taking the time, since I know how precious it is to you, to consider my painting for the exhibit.
 
And you’re right…I completely understand.
 
I understand that you’re a tyrannical, cold-hearted, lazy bastard, who has been hitting on me since the day I started working for you!!!
 
Thank you for making every work day
so
fucking wonderful!
 
I can’t even imagine my life without you and your constant criticism, hate, and toxicity.
 
So, go fuck yourself because I quit!
 
And good luck searching for another assistant that will put up with half your shit.

Sincerely,

Christie

She wanted to say so much more, but her fingers were trembling in anger and she was half-surprised that she’d managed to type out a coherent email.
 
She’d wasted years of her life putting up with him.
 
Years of hard work, years of biting her tongue…but that time had just come to an end.

She slammed the button of her mouse over ‘send.’

With a
whoosh
, it was off.

A couple hours later, after finishing half a box of crackers and leftover pizza in the fridge, Christie started to realize that she’d made a grave mistake.

There were reasons why she’d put up with Joseph.
 
Reasons that slowly seeped back into her sobering mind as the minutes ticked by.
 
The art gallery she worked for was well-known.
 
Joseph
was well-known in the art world.
 
He was a lousy boss, but he had a good, discerning eye.
 
And she’d just told him to
fuck off
, thereby ruining all the late night bullshit, all the dry cleaning runs, all the last minute details that she’d put up with.
 
He would
destroy
her…and he’d destroy her chances of ever seeing her art hanging on a white wall.

Because in the heat of anger and in the arms of tequila, Christie had just thrown away the years she’d put into that gallery.

She did the only thing she could think of.

She called her best friend, even though it was well past midnight.

Livy picked up on the third ring, her voice groggy.
 
“Christie?”

“I’m sorry to wake you, Livy, but I did something stupid!
 
So completely stupid!” she burst out, anxiety starting to eat at her.
 
She had checked her email every few minutes to see if Joseph had replied.
 
As the hours passed, she’d felt both relief and trepidation.
 
Relief because he’d probably gone home for the night.
 
Trepidation because it was only a matter of time before he saw the incriminating email.

Somehow, Christie had to delete it before he ever read it.
 
That was the only way she could not only save her job, but save her career.

Stupid, stupid, stupid!

She was never drinking tequila again.

“What happened?” Livy asked, her voice urgent.

In the background, Christie heard a sleepy male voice mumble, “Darling, what’re you doing?”

“It’s Christie,” Olivia replied to her boyfriend, her response slightly muffled.
 
“Hold on,” she told Christie.
 
She heard sheets moving, Olivia presumably climbing out of bed.
 
“Where’s my robe?” came a hushed whispered from Olivia.
 
A very deep, lazy chuckle must have been Alex’s only response, because Olivia gave a frustrated huff and then a door shut quietly.

Christie almost smiled.
 
Guess she was right about the ‘sex morning
and
night’ bit…

“Okay,” came Livy’s voice over the phone, clearer.
 
“Now, what happened?”

Christie told her everything, from the tequila to her submission rejection from Joseph to her angry farewell email.
 
Christie wasn’t one to cry, but she felt like crying now.
 
She could see the years of hard work just crumbling into a dusty heap in front of her eyes.

“What should I do, Livy?” she asked miserably.
 
“If he reads that email, I’m fired.
 
I’ll never work in another gallery.
 
Joseph knows everyone in the Bay Area!”

Livy was silent but then asked, “And you don’t know his password?
 
Does he leave his email open at the gallery?”

“No, never.
 
He
always
, without fail, signs out, even when he leaves his desk for a bathroom break.
 
He’s weird like that.
 
And no, I don’t know his password.”

Christie heard a door open in the background and then Alex’s voice rang out.
 
“What’s up, Livy?”

She listened as Olivia recounted her story to Alex and then asked, “Do you have any ideas?”

Alex’s muffled answer made Christie’s heart speed up.
 
“Adam.
 
The guy’s a computer whiz.”

“I can’t,” Christie whispered in protest.
 
“Not after what happened this afternoon at the barbecue.”

Alex’s voice was clear over the line.
 
“Look, Adam might have some ideas.
 
He’s recovered my password loads of times at work, even though that’s not his job.
 
He doesn’t hold grudges and he’s a nice guy so he’ll help you out, despite what happened.”

Christie couldn’t bring herself to confess the entire story.
 
Like the fact that Adam had given her a mind-blowing kiss in Alex’s driveway after the barbecue.
 
That would just complicate matters.

But what other choice did she have?
 
Adam was her best bet to save her job.

“Give him a call,” Alex urged.
 
“He’ll know what to do.”

FIVE

Adam felt a small fissure of victory race through him when he finally managed to pop out the last hidden screw from behind the battery door of the thirty-year-old Macintosh.

He dropped it carefully into the tray beside him on his workbench and pushed up his glasses to inspect the rest of the computer body carefully.
 
No more screws.
 
He set his specialized screwdriver to the side and stood from his chair to gain leverage.
 
He carefully slid the front of the monitor from the back, revealing the prize underneath he’d been anticipating since he’d purchased the computer online.

The old Macintosh featured a CRT monitor, so he was careful to avoid the tube jutting out before him, even though the machine was off.
 
Adam had experienced electric shock when he’d been a foolish adolescent.
 
His first ‘dissection’ had been a small camera.
 
He hadn’t thought the voltage would be enough to harm him, but he’d been paralyzed for a few seconds before he realized his mistake.

You live, you learn
, he thought to himself with a shake of his head.

He peered down at the innards of the computer and carefully detached the floppy disk drive connector.
 
He was eager to study the motherboard, but he didn’t want to inflict unnecessary damage.

A ringing reached his ears, distracting him momentarily.
 
He realized it was his cell phone, but he ignored it.

He would have to release the power cable from the motherboard without scraping the surrounding data traces.

His phone rang again.
 
He ignored it, picking up his screwdriver.

It was only on the third consecutive ring that he gave up.
 
Stalking to his cell phone on his other workbench, he wondered irritably who would be calling at 12:30 in the morning.

Incoming Call…Christie Allaway.

Adam frowned, his heart stopping in his chest for a moment.
 
It was similar to an electric shock, he mused absentmindedly.

He accepted the call, not sure what to expect.

“Hello?”

“Adam,” came her beautiful, yet hesitant, voice.
 
“Hi, I’m sorry to call so late.
 
I hope you weren’t sleeping.”

“Um,” he said intelligently.
 
He glanced over his shoulder at his workbench, to the old computer splayed out on top of it.
 
“No, I wasn’t sleeping.”

“Oh, good.”
 
There was a brief silence as Christie seemed to be gathering her thoughts, whereas Adam was trying to deduce reasons why she’d be calling him in the middle of the night.
 
There were only so many possibilities, but his mind automatically jumped to the dirty ones.
 
Maybe he
had
piqued her interest with that kiss earlier.
 
But she shot his fantasies down when she murmured, “I’m calling because…I—I need your help with something.”

She sounded so miserable that Adam was immediately concerned.
 
“Is everything okay?”

“I did something stupid.
 
And Alex told me I should call you to see if you could help.
 
He said you might know what to do.”

Adam ignored the pang in his chest.
 
So, she hadn’t called him because she’d wanted to.
 
She’d called him because of Alex.

“What do you need help with?”

“I sent an angry, drunk email to my boss,” she confessed.
 
Adam could practically hear the humiliation in her tone.
 
“It was spur of the moment, but once I realized what I’d done…I could lose my job if he sees it.
 
And I can’t, Adam.
 
I just can’t.”

“So, what do you want me to do?” he asked slowly, confused.

“Well, Alex…um, said you might have ideas on how to delete the email before my boss sees it…”

“Like hack into his computer?” he asked, incredulously, his eyebrows shooting up past his black frames.

“Or just his email account…are you able to do that?” she asked quickly.
 
The obvious hope in her tone ate at him.

“Christie…it’s not that simple.”
 
He tugged the glasses off his face to rub his eyes and sank back into his chair.
 
“It’s not like I can just click a few buttons and get into his account.
 
And not to mention, it’s highly
illegal
.”

“But you know how?
 
Please Adam!
 
I’m begging you.
 
I’ll do anything you want.
 
But if he sees this email, I can kiss my career goodbye.”

“What exactly did you write?” he asked, bemused.

Her tone turned sheepish.
 
“I may have told him to go fuck himself.
 
And that he was a cold-hearted, lazy bastard…and something about tyranny…”

Adam couldn’t help his amused laugh.
 
“Christie, you really know how to dig a hole deep, don’t you?”

“He rejected my exhibit submission even though he’d basically promised he would display it in the Fall.
 
I was angry and hurt!”

Adam shook his head and leaned his head back to look at the ceiling of the room.
 
His eyes traced the texture of the painted sheetrock as he debated his options.
 
He
could
hack in, but it would take time.
 
Time Christie might not have.
 
But it was the only way.

Fuck it.
 
He’d already had a crazy day.
 
Might as well have a crazy night too.
 
Christie
had
mentioned that he needed to loosen up more.

Then an idea popped into his head, out of the blue.
 
It was an even crazier idea than kissing Christie had been.
 
And she said she’d do anything he wanted if he helped her…