The Profile Match Page 4

  Grace left, and I went back to Alpha Team and demoted Drew to estudiante. When I drove home later, I kept thinking about the whole thing with Grace. To be honest, I was still annoyed. Grace had a bad habit of jumping to conclusions and acting on them. It wasn’t a good trait, especially for an agent-in-training. Not that I was annoyed on behalf of the Mission League. I was annoyed for me. We kept fighting about stupid stuff, and Grace seemed to start every fight.

  What did that mean?

  ● ● ●

  Saturday afternoon, I was playing a game on my computer when a text came through.

  Grace: wat time u leaving?

  I texted back: 6

  Grace: kk

  No kissy emoji this time. I tried not to care. I put down the phone and sighed at the tux hanging in my open closet. Time for round two.

  Tonight’s tux had a red necktie and belt-thingy, both of which I needed Grandma’s help to put on. After I was dressed, I drove myself to Lukas’s house, who drove me to Grace’s, where we picked up her and Jasmine, Lukas’s date. Grace was wearing a knee-length red dress with skinny straps. The skirt was all wrinkled and spun way out like something from that La La Land musical. Grace kept twirling to show me.

  Lukas drove us to Chili’s restaurant for dinner where I pigged out on chips and salsa, and all too soon I was dancing with Grace, Lukas, and Jasmine in the middle of my high school cafeteria. Arianna met us there. She’d come with a guy named Greg who was on student council.

  Lukas looked like a movie star, as always. His hair was currently longish and shaggy, like he was channeling Jon Snow, but he moved on the dance floor like Justin Timberlake. It was sickening.

  I suffered through an alarming number of fast songs and earned a sudden reprieve when Jasmine announced she needed to visit the little girls’ room, and all the girls went with her, leaving their dates behind. We guys instantly found a table to hide at. I’d barely gotten comfortable when someone tapped my shoulder.

  “Dance with me?”

  The music was so loud, I could hardly hear the voice. I turned, expecting to see Trella behind me.

  It was Mary.

  She was wearing a short, one-shoulder turquoise dress with a gauzy skirt. Her crazy curls were mostly down, though some had been pulled up and stuck out in odd directions on top of her head.

  Dang, she looked cute.

  “Where’s your date?” I asked.

  “Waiting in line to get the DJ to play a song.” She gestured across the dark cafeteria to where a half-dozen people had congregated. “So? Dance?” She held out her hand.

  I thought about it. Hard. For the space of one long breath. Mary was one of my best friend’s sisters. And Grace might not like it. But Mary and I had been friends since before I ever met Grace.

  “All right.” But I was going old-school with Mary. I put one hand at her waist and held her other out to the side, the way Prière had been doing when I’d caught him and my grandma dancing in the living room one night.

  I shuddered briefly at the memory.

  I’d never been a good dancer, so I pretty much just moved Mary from one foot to the other and hoped the song would end before Grace got back.

  “You hey?” Mary yelled.

  Hey? I leaned closer and yelled, “What?”

  “Are you okay?”

  Oh, I saw what this was now. She didn’t want to dance with her pal Spencer. She just wanted to check up on me because her prophecies were freaking her out again. I straightened and said, “Yep.”

  “Peas see air full.”

  Seriously? Again, I leaned toward her.

  “Be careful. It could happen tonight.”

  “What could?”

  She frowned and shook her head. “I not tire me shore.

  Not entirely sure. Well, it didn’t matter. I’d been through the ringer with all the crazies who wanted to hunt me down. I could handle them. I leaned toward her ear. “I’ll be careful, Mair. I promise.”

  When I straightened again and met her eyes, they were filled with tears. Figs. Girls and crying . . .

  A tap on my shoulder made my stomach flip. Thankfully, it was El McWilly. Not Grace. I raised my eyebrows, hoping to scare him a little, but that idea was ridiculous. Despite my distinct height advantage, the kid—a black belt in Tae Kwon Do—could hold his own. He might be painfully shy, but he wasn’t afraid of much.

  So I backed out while it was still safe and handed Mary off to her date. I was headed back to the table when the door to the girls’ bathroom opened, and Arianna and Grace came out.

  Looked like I’d gotten out just in time. El McWilly had saved me again.

  ● ● ●

  After the dance, we went to a party at Chaz’s house. It was so crowded, Lukas had to park on the lawn. We left our suit jackets in the car and went in. Grace instantly wanted to dance. I hated dancing to fast songs, but I liked watching Grace, so the tradeoff was fair, I supposed. I pretended to hold a basketball and things went much better for me.

  When Grace was tired of dancing, we found some cans of soda in the kitchen.

  “Let’s go sit in Lukas’s car and talk,” she said.

  I fought back a smile. “We’ll just get into mischief out there, Grace,” I said in my Grandma’s voice.

  She quirked an eyebrow. “I know.”

  This girl was trouble, but she didn’t need to ask me twice. I took her hand and started for the door. Lukas’s car was totally boxed in now, but that made it feel secluded. Not even my detail could see us from where they were parked down the street.

  We climbed into the front, me behind the wheel and Grace in the passenger’s seat. I had barely set my soda can in the center console when Grace leaned over and attacked me with her lips. After a few minutes, she complained of a crick in her neck and kicked off her fancy shoes, which clunked onto the floor. Then she climbed onto my lap and resumed kissing me. She reached down by the door, and my seat suddenly fell back, clicking loudly as it reclined into the back seat. My heart leapt at the sudden movement, and I laughed, until Grace straddled me and leaned down to kiss me. It was too much all at once. How she was sitting. My view down the front of her dress. The way her coils of hair hung around her face and brushed against my shirt. Her lips on my earlobe.

  I turned my head and managed to croak, “This is not a good idea.”

  She giggled and ran her lips down my neck. Pulled at my shirt to untuck it.

  “Grace, hold on.” I grabbed her wrists and pushed her off me.

  Gone went the dreamy look she’d been giving me moments before. “What?” she all but snapped.

  “I need . . .” I took a breath, concentrated on random things—my neighbor’s dog, shooting free throws, Prière and my grandma, cooking together. “I need you to get off me.”

  Grace rolled her eyes and climbed back into the passenger’s seat, crossed her arms. “I thought this is what you wanted,” she said.

  Wanted, sure. I also wanted to drive a Tesla Roadster and eat banana splits for breakfast every day. “What gave you that impression?”

  She shot me a dirty look. “I know what guys want. You just keep pushing and pushing.”

  Seriously? “Me? Which one of us started this, Grace?”

  “I just think the logical thing is to remove the temptation.”

  “Which is why I asked you to get off me.”

  Again she rolled her eyes. “Don’t blame me. I’m trying to make you happy, but it’s too much pressure. I like you too much, and I know I’ll end up giving in. Then I’ll hate you.”

  I jerked the handle on the driver’s seat, bringing it back to an upright position. “What are you talking about? I never pressured you.”

  “You brought me out here.”

  “Coming to the car was your idea.”

  “I think we should break up.”

  What the—? “Grace, no!”

  “Don’t try and talk me out of this, Spencer. I’ve made up my mind.”

  “But that makes no se
nse! You’re messing with my head again. You can’t keep doing this.”

  “I can’t? I suppose you had a prophecy of marrying me or something like that.”

  “No.” I thought of Mary Stopplecamp then, and her prophetic assertion that she and I would get married someday. That knotted my thoughts further. I didn’t want Mary here right now. I was having enough trouble understanding one girl.

  Grace reached down to the floor and came back up with her shoes. “I’m going to find Lukas and ask for a ride home.” She got out of the car. Shut the door.

  I wanted to throttle her.

  She passed in front of the car, then wove around the other cars, back up the driveway, walking away with my heart clenched and bloody in her fist. I guessed this was the end, though for the life of me, I didn’t know what I’d done wrong.

  I waited until she was inside the house, wondering all the while if I should chase after her.

  I didn’t.

  I grabbed my unopened soda and got out of the car. I took one last glance at the party house and started walking. As I wove between the cars parked on the lawn, I realized my heart was pounding. I slowed down, breathed deeply.

  My car was at Lukas’s place, but I’d get it later. Home was closer.

  As I walked, I nursed my soda and ran through a list of nasty names for evil females. The sedan started following me, but they were nice enough to leave me be. Once I’d calmed down, it occurred to me to pray about the whole mess. So I unloaded on the Big Guy and felt a little better. I prayed he’d help me figure out what Grace really needed.

  When I got home, Grandma was sitting in her chair, crocheting.

  “You’re home early. You have a nice time?”

  “Best ever.” I headed down the hallway.

  “Spencer?”

  I leaned against the wall and looked back. “Yeah?”

  “You’re being careful with that girl?”

  I practically snorted. “Yeah.”

  But she wasn’t being very careful with me.

  REPORT NUMBER: 4

  REPORT TITLE: You’re the Boss, Ving

  SUBMITTED BY: Agent-in-Training Grace Thomas

  LOCATION: Brittany Holmes’s Residence, 2245 Sunset Plaza Drive, Los Angeles, California, USA

  DATE AND TIME: Saturday, November 3, 3:08 p.m.

  Brittany was sitting poolside with friends when her phone rang. She glanced at the name on the screen. Irving MacCormack.

  “I have to take this.” She stood and walked to the sliding glass doors, let herself into the house. The air conditioning kissed her skin and made her shiver. She accepted the call. “Hey, Ving. What’s up?”

  “Where have you been?”

  Already she didn’t like his tone. “At home. Why?”

  “You haven’t returned my texts.”

  “I’ve been busy.”

  “Getting to know Spencer?”

  Not this again. Ving was obsessed.

  “That’s what I thought,” he said. “When was the last time you made contact?”

  “I don’t know. Last week?” she lied.

  “And before that? When was the last time you saw him face-to-face, Britt?”

  “That’s not the kind of thing I keep track of.”

  “Have you seen him since the premiere?”

  That stopped her. Ving wanted Brittany to make the kid fall for her. Normally such a mission took no effort at all—especially with a high school boy—but Spencer had overheard Ving setting them up, and rejected her. Brittany hadn’t been all that eager to chase him after that. She’d thought it might have helped to get close to his friend Kip, but the cops had busted up his Jolt Revolt party, and Brittany wanted to distance herself from any negative publicity.

  “This is unacceptable,” Ving said.

  She rolled her eyes. “I just don’t see what—”

  “We’ve been over this. The kid is important. I need to know what he’s doing. I need someone to get close. I put you on this, but it looks like I’ve made a mistake.”

  “You didn’t. I’ve just been busy. I’ll call him, okay?”

  “Don’t bother. Since you left me hanging, I put another plan into place.”

  Brittany flexed her jaw. It had better not involve Valeria Silver. Brittany was the star of these movies. Valeria was the sidekick. Yet Valeria kept acting like they were equals. “If you already made other plans, why are you calling me and asking for an update?”

  Silence.

  She pulled the phone away from her ear and made sure the time was still ticking. Yep, he hadn’t hung up. She put the phone back to her ear, irritated. “Hello?”

  “Who found you in a seedy B movie and took you under his wing?”

  She sighed. “You did.”

  “Who put you in your first movie when you had no blockbuster experience?”

  “You, Ving.”

  “Who made you a star?” He was raising his voice now. It was best just to wait until he was done. “Who pays for your house? Your car? Your maid? Your cook? Who pays for your credit cards and that Jaguar you drive?”

  He wouldn’t have to pay for any of it if he’d give her what she deserved from the movies and let her have access to her bank accounts.

  “Who makes certain you have millions of adoring fans? Huh?”

  She gritted her teeth. “You, Ving. You take care of everything.”

  “So next time I ask you to do something, you do it, right?”

  “Right.”

  “I thought I was going to have to go to Diane for help on this, and I knew she wouldn’t be pleased to have to step in.”

  Brittany winced. She was used to Ving’s temper tantrums and was good at smoothing things over and getting back on his good side. Diane, however . . . Letting her down would have consequences.

  “What does she want me to do?” Brittany asked.

  “Nothing. I didn’t go to her after all. I’m sending Tito instead.”

  Better for Brittany, but not for Spencer. “What if Spencer calls me?”

  “If he calls you, be your friendly self and go back to the original plan. But I think Tito will be more effective. I’ll be in touch.” He hung up.

  Brittany sat down. She was shaking. She needed a hit, but she was trying to cut back. She hated when Ving pulled rank like that and threatened to go to Diane. She hated being under their thumbs—not having the freedom to live her own life. There wasn’t anything to be done about that at present, though.

  She wondered what Ving wanted with Spencer. He wasn’t like the other people Ving set her on. He was just a regular kid. A nice kid, from what she could tell. Ving had gone through a whole song and dance, pretending to be his father. She wondered if Spencer really believed it. He’d been ignoring Ving since Kip had told everyone Ving had supplied the iVitrax for the party that got Spencer into so much trouble. And Ving didn’t like being ignored. Brittany hated to see Spencer dragged into Ving’s seedy underworld, especially against his will.

  That wasn’t her call, though. The last time she’d tried to warn someone away from Ving it had ended badly. She needed to stay out of it this time, especially if Diane wanted the kid involved. Spencer Garmond was on his own.

  She really hoped he wouldn’t call.

  REPORT NUMBER: 5

  REPORT TITLE: I Finally Know Who the First Twin Is

  SUBMITTED BY: Agent-in-Training Spencer Garmond

  LOCATION: Grandma Alice’s House, Pilot Point, California, USA

  DATE AND TIME: Sunday, November 4, 6:46 a.m.

  I woke, confused. My phone was buzzing from an incoming call. As I reached for my bedside table, I remembered what had happened with Grace. My heart leapt at the idea she might be calling to apologize. It leapt again when I saw her name on several text messages and missed calls.

  And then I read them.

  This is Jen Thomas, Grace’s mom. Is Grace with you?

  Jen again. Grace is not home. Do you know where she is?

  Please call me ASAP.


  What the . . . ?

  I called Grace’s phone.

  “Hello?” her mom said.

  “Mrs. Thomas, this is Spencer.”

  “Spencer, is Grace with you?”

  The accusation made my cheeks burn. “No, ma’am.”

  “She didn’t come home last night.”

  “What?” My mind raced. Where could she have gone? “She was at the party when I left.”

  “You left her?”

  “She told me she wanted to break up, so I walked home.”

  “You walked? Why?”

  “We were all riding with Lukas, remember?”

  “She was your responsibility,” Mrs. Thomas said.

  I blew out a breath, shocked and horrified that she was blaming me for whatever this was. “She said she was going to find Lukas and ask for a ride home.” Who else would have given her a ride?

  Eli.

  “Did you call Eli?” I asked, wincing.

  “Yes, he’s out looking for her now.”

  I’m sorry, what? This guy was not going to one-up me. Grace was my girlfriend, not his. Well, my ex-girlfriend, anyway. “I’m coming over,” I said.

  “Spencer, there’s no need to—”

  I hung up. I threw up a desperate prayer for Grace as I scrounged for clothes on the floor. I found some that smelled clean enough and pulled them on. I shoved my feet into my sneakers and ran out from room and down the hallway.

  “I’m going out,” I yelled to Grandma the moment I hit the living room.

  “Are you going to church already?” she called after me, but I was already halfway to my car.

  Which wasn’t there.

  I’d left it at Lukas’s place.

  Mother pus bucket . . .

  I jumped in the sedan. “Take me to Lukas’ place,” I said.

  Mystery Sloan, who was in the passenger’s seat jumped and dropped his Starbucks.

  “La vache!” he cried, righting the cup and dabbing drops of coffee with his sleeve.

  “You do remember this is Sunday,” Nose said to me over the seat.

  “Yes, and I’m in a hurry, so step on it.” I thumbed a text to Lukas, then realized how rude that had sounded. “Please?” I added.