Now You See It by Cáit Donnelly Read Free Book Online

wanted to tell you. I’ve—” she swallowed “—I’ve got to tell his mother.”
    “Oh, God. Julia will have a stroke.”
    “Do you blame her?”
    “No. Not at all. Of course not. But I don’t envy you. Gemma, is there anything I can do for you? Anything at all.”
    “No, Doug, but thanks.”
    “Do you have anyone to stay with you?”
    “I’m at my brother’s. Thanks for asking.”
    “Gemma—” he paused. “Take care. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
    She’d never heard Doug sound so shaken. Ned had always called him “Mister Composure,” and not as a compliment. There had been very little composure in that raw, unbelieving voice just now. Gemma’s heart went out to him. He’d always been kind to her.
    The next call would be harder. Ned was an only child.
    * * *
    Justin Falco had nearly perfected the art of listening to conversations at the front desk without seeming to be aware of anything beyond the walls of his cubicle. Sometimes he liked to think he had superpowers or something. Something special that lifted him out of the herd—but in a good way. Not like his zits and the awkwardness he hated because it marked him as a major geek.
    He’d learned that if he pretended he was invisible as he moved from area to area within the law offices, most of the time, it was like he really was invisible. People didn’t even notice him. They didn’t notice the janitors, either, and that so ticked him off. The people who worked here all thought they were something special—big-shot lawyers and their ass-licking paralegals. It amazed him how people with so much education could be so stupid about simple things such as electronic networks.
    “Justin! My computer isn’t working!” How many times a week did someone yell that at him all panicky and pissed-off?
    He’d learned not to ask the obvious questions: “What’s wrong with it?” invariably got him some variation of “How should I know? That’s your job.”
    The other basics, like, “Is it plugged in?” and “Is it turned on?” just as often as not earned him a reprimand for attitude. It was easier to go look for himself. Safer. And it drew a lot less attention. It was much better to pretend he was invisible.
    Over the summer, all these politically correct folks had decided to work four ten-hour days each week, to reduce energy use and keep the planet green. Justin snorted. That might sound good in print, but what it really meant was that he was stuck in this frakkin’ cubicle an hour earlier and an hour later every frakkin’ day, and on call all the other days.
    Yeah. Well, he had to admit there were compensations. One of the cool things about being invisible was how much he overheard. People just forgot he was there as they babbled shit to each other. Sex shit, boyfriend shit, girlfriend shit, money shit. And people didn’t realize he got to see all the amazing things they put on-line. You’d think lawyers would know better than to write incriminating notes on a company computer. Or make a file and expect that labeling it Private would actually keep people out of it. Dumb. They thought they were so-o-o clever, but he knew the truth. He knew a lot of truths.
    Like his bosses! Frakk! Ned Carrow had letters on his computer so hot, they could have fried the hard drive.
    A year or so ago, Justin had started up a little business, his very own dot.com. He’d been thinking about it for a while, all the stuff on Carrow’s hard drive. Mostly Carrow’s. A few others. But it was so easy. Just copy that shit off and publish it on the web, and then sell subscriptions. Not blackmail, or anything sleazy like that. He changed the names, mostly the places, added in some vampires and an alien or two and a little gratuitous violence. At first, he’d been afraid Ned Carrow would find out, somehow, but nothing was ever said. If Carrow did know, he either didn’t care, or didn’t want to admit it was his stuff—not that Justin could blame him for that.
    But man!