Page 105 of The Five Year Lie

“I know,” Zain says with a frown. “That’s bothering me, too.”

“There’s only three things that men fuck up their lives for,” Larri says from the bench. “Money, drugs or pussy. It’salwaysone of those three things.”

“Hey, that’s awfully heteronormative of you,” Zain says.

Larri snorts. “I like him! We’re keeping him,” she declares. “Tacos at seven. My place. Ariel will text you the address.”

I sigh.

Zain puts his hand on the door, but doesn’t push it open. Not yet. “Look,” he whispers. “I know you’re freaked out. And we’re going to be careful. But don’t forget why this matters—someday you’re going to inherit Chime Co.—you and Buzz.”

“Now, that’s a dark thought,” I grumble. “I thought you weren’t trying to depress me.”

He gives me that crooked smile. “Only you would say that about inheriting a potentially billion-dollar company. Don’t ever change.”

And then he’s gone.

35

FIVE YEARS AGO, AUGUST

For Drew, walking into the office building that morning is a surreal experience. It’s the beginning of the end.

He opens his desk drawer and drops his wallet and keys inside, the same way he does every morning. Then he takes his seat in his ergonomic chair. Even though he’s planned for this, it’s still weird.

What the hell does it mean that he might actually miss this place?

On that disconcerting thought, he shakes his mouse, and the screen blinks to life. But an unfamiliar text box appears on his screen where the log-in should be.

Please report to HR at 69 Cross Street. You will need to provide the requested documentation before you can log back in to the system.

Well, fuck. He’d planned to stall.The card is at my family home in Lowden. I can go there this weekend...etc. But that’s not going to work now, is it?

Okay. He takes a slow breath. Sometimes missions go sideways. Time to move to plan B.

Casually, he switches off his monitor so nobody will see thatred flag on his screen. Then he slides the desk drawer open again, retrieving his wallet and keys.

He has no other possessions in this drawer, or anywhere on the desk. He glances around just to be sure there’s not so much as a coffee shop receipt. But no, it’s clean.

Like he was never here.

Pocketing his things, he stands up and moseys over to the project manager. “Dec, I’m sorry. I was just called to fill out a missing form in HR. They need me to run over to Cross Street. Should take me about an hour.”

The guy makes a face. “Hurry, okay? We’re starting on the new avatars today.”

“Okay. I’ll be back when I can.”

He leaves the office, walking a couple of blocks to the nondescript brick building on Cross Street where the HR company is located. Inside, a balding guard asks his name.

“Drew Miller,” he says easily. He’s used to it now.

“Third floor. Room 306.”

“Thanks.” When the elevator comes, he presses the button for the third floor. The fact that Chime Co. outsources its human resources department is probably the reason he was able to pass himself off as Drew Miller in the first place. He’s never been here before. His hiring was done by passing scanned images back and forth via email.

He pats his pocket, where his forged Social Security card waits.Relax, he tells himself. It’s just a bunch of HR nerds.Not the KGB.

If they don’t like his documents, he’ll just play dumb. People don’t expect someone who looks like him to use a fraudulent identity. White guys with blue eyes and a close shave can get away with a lot in the world.