Sweet Like Revenge

13 - Intelligence and Espionage

Muffled conversation pricked at my eardrums, and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand upright. I snapped my head to the door as an invisible force urged me forward. Something — God, the fates, or maybe just hopeful delusion — told me that whatever it was going on on the other side of the wall, I needed to hear it.

I pressed my ear against the wall separating me from the office, but the hum of the copier destroyed any hope I had of hearing anything aside from urgent, incomprehensible whispering. I didn't have a choice. I had to open that door.

I pressed down on the handle ever-so-slightly, fighting the adrenaline inside of me that wanted to swing the thing open as quickly as possible. The idea was to be a fly-on-the-wall, not a wolf in a hen house.

"You're supposed to text first," was the first thing I heard clearly. "Two-minute warning. That's our deal. Elle's literally right there-"

"Please." Poppy laughed. "You think I'm scared of that mouse?"

Rude.

"That's not the point," Cameron argued, his voice low and strained. "It could have been anyone. Mr. Peterson, Walsh-"

"Have we been caught yet?" Poppy asked.

"No, but-"

"But nothing. Just give me the file."

There was a slight pause, broken by the sound of paper being snatched with impatient force.

"I'm expecting great things this time," Poppy muttered, the arrogance dripping from her voice like gravy. "Especially after your last screw up-"

"I told you, I didn't screw up. It was a subjective piece."

Was that hostility that I detected in his tone?

"76% is a screwup," Poppy said.

Their conversation was gold. Poppy spoke so freely. She truly felt invincible.

"Would you keep your voice down?" Cameron shot, seemingly reading my mind.

"Would you remember who you're talking to?" Poppy snapped back.

A sudden silence hung between them, strange and uneasy, like that silence during a standoff in those old cowboy films, right before one of the cowboys shoots the other through the chest with his pistol.

The silence was broken, though, when the copier behind me omitted a loud, obnoxious beep. I had to cover my mouth with my hand to suppress my frightened squeal.

"Go. Now," Cameron directed with renewed urgency. "You got what you came for."

"I always do." Poppy smirked, but the sound of footsteps drifting further and further away told me that she had done what he'd asked.

"Elle?" Cameron called.

I jumped back from the door and darted to the copier to grab my papers. I steadied my breathing, counted to three, then joined him out front.

"All good," I said with what was probably an overly-enthusiastic smile. "As I said last time, technology's not my strong point..."

I trailed off at the sight of Cameron. He ran a hand through his hair anxiously, staring back at me as though he were catapulting a thousand questions into the space between us. Namely, Did you hear us?

I debated telling him. I debated forcing him to help me, using what I knew against him just like Poppy did.

But I couldn't. I couldn't bring myself to add to his upset. Besides, for some reason, a reason I didn't totally understand, it was important to me that Cameron liked me. That he knew I wasn't like Poppy. That he knew I was like him.