Page 41 of Only the Wicked

He chuckles, and I grin.

The trail narrows and at his insistence I take the lead.

“A southern gentleman,” I quip.

“I like the view,” he says, his gravelly tone increasing the lust quotient a notch. “I was asking because I know what it’s like to have uncertainty about your future. You said you’re between jobs. If you send me your resume, with my connections, I might be able to, you know… I mean, no guarantee. But half of job hunting is connections, right?”

Is he thinking he might hire me? Does ARGUS hire ex-CIA?

The incline increases the deeper into the trail we go, and rocks protrude through the earth, requiring a focus on foot placement. Our boots squelch through patches of red clay mud, and I have to grip exposed tree roots for balance on the steeper sections. Fallen leaves, darkened and slick from the storm, create a treacherous carpet that shifts underfoot. One wrong step and I risk stumbling backwards into Rhodes.

Somewhere below us, I can hear the rush of swollen streams rushing toward the falls. The storm has turned every trickle into a torrent, and the sound of moving water grows louder as we climb higher. Puddles mirror the sky through breaks in the canopy, and everything feels alive with the energy of the night’s deluge.

Up ahead, past the twist, it opens, and a woman comes into view. There’s a boulder to the side, and she’s leaning against it, probably waiting for us so she can continue down.

When we reach the landing, we see she’s not alone.

Her companion says, “It’s a nice hike. The falls are gorgeous.”

“Thought they’d be worth the visit after last night’s storm,” Rhodes answers. “Are a lot of hikers out?”

“We didn’t come across many, but we struck out early. Today’s going to be a hot one. At least until the thunderstorms this afternoon.”

“Right,” Rhodes says.

These women are maybe fifteen years older than him and completely unaware of who he is, yet they’re drawn to him. It’s like I don’t exist and he leads the conversation with ease.

The landing area is tight for four, and the two women continue down the trail, ending their rest and ceding us the space with gracious goodbyes.

“Want water?” Rhodes asks.

He’s already unzipping that full pack of his and pulling out a water bottle.

I lean against the boulder, stretching out my legs. “I’m good.”

He chugs his water and swipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“When you said that half of job hunting is connections, is that how your company hires? Mainly from connections?” I ask, wanting to get back to opening his company into approved conversational topics.

“I’m not heavily involved in hiring.” He glances sideways at me. “But yeah, some of that. My partners went to business school with me.”

“Business school? Which one?”

“Harvard.” He shrugs. “Don’t get too impressed. I dropped out.”

He lowers his chin, avoiding my gaze. He’s actually embarrassed.

“I mean, it all worked out for me. But it was a huge gamble. One my father will never forgive me for. You don’t walk away from Harvard. At least, that’s what dear old dad said.”

“How many years’ tuition did he pay?”

“Oh, it wasn’t about the money. And I paid him back. It was his friends. Having to tell his friends his son dropped out, after he’d bragged… He’s old school conservative.”

“Ah,” I say. “He lit into you?” I haven’t picked up on any of this in my research, but I noticed there was essentially no mention of his parents in any article, and his maternal grandmother is the only family member I picked up on who followed his ex-girlfriend’s socials. But all that could mean is that Nana was the only family member who got along with his ex. Or the only one who uses social media.

“It was the most classic conservative male bashing imaginable.” He crosses his arms over his chest and rears back, exaggerating his mouth movements. “You drop out, you are on your own. Don’t come here groveling if you need something. No, sir. A Harvard MBA is gold. You leave that young man…it’s a colossal mistake. We will have no part in digging your grave. I don’t care if you find yourself homeless. I won’t give you a dollar.”

“Wow.” I bet his father ate crow. “And now?”