and thinks he’s God’s gift to women, but he’s not really all that. Oh, and he’s only successful because his dad is rich, and maybe I mentioned something about him sucking in bed.”
“Oh, so a real love letter, huh?” I could tell that she was trying not to laugh out loud.
“Yeah, so maybe I was a bit over the top.”
“Obviously you have a reason to feel that way?”
“I do. I’ll tell you later, but I do.” I shivered as I thought back to my first day at the office. “Maybe at lunch?”
“Sounds good.” Magnolia nodded. “So, how do I help with this note?”
“I need you to distract him as I check his bag.” I chewed on my lower lip. “He always leaves his bag in the corridor. I just need to check the pocket I left it in. If it’s empty, I’ll know he saw it.”
“Don’t you think he’ll know it’s one of us?” Magnolia arched an eyebrow. “How many people have access to his bag?”
“I thought about that.” I nodded. “But I’m pretty sure anyone at his gym could put it inside. He mentioned to me that he doesn’t put it in his locker when he goes.” I shrugged. “Something to do with how he likes to carry around Gatorade and water while he’s working out, and well, anyone at the gym could slip something in as well.”
“I guess so.” Magnolia didn’t look convinced. “So you want me to talk to him while you check his bag?”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “Does that sound totally shady?”
“Yes.” She grinned. “But I’ll still do it.”
“Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
“Thank me later.” She shook her head. “Hopefully he won’t jump up as I’m talking to him and run into the corridor and catch you.”
“He won’t.” I took a deep breath and held my hands up in the air. “At least I hope he won’t. That would be awful.”
“Come on, let’s do this,” Magnolia said with a smile as we left the kitchen. “Gosh, I feel like a detective or a spy.” She held her fingers up as if they were a gun. “Just call me Bond. Magnolia Bond.”
“Okay, Bond.” I shook my head at her, wondering if I'd made a mistake by engaging her services. Magnolia was lovely, but she could be even more dramatic than I was, and she had no chill about it whatsover. I was about to tell her I’d changed my mind when she stepped quickly past me and hurried into Tate’s office.
“Tate!” she said loudly. “I’m not sure if Jagger mentioned it to you, but I would really love for you to make it over to our apartment on Sunday. I’m cooking a roast and I’d be so happy if you could join us. You can even decide the meat. Would you prefer roast chicken, pork, or beef?”
As Tate started to answer, I walked by his door quickly and then ducked down to open his bag. I unzipped the pocket quickly, my nerves racing as I stuck my hand into the deep pocket. My fingers connected with what felt like a 5x7 notecard, and I frowned as I pulled it out. I knew it wasn’t the note that I’d left there yesterday because I’d written on yellow legal pad and folded the paper into quarters. I pulled the card out and looked at the top at it. My heart went into overdrive as I read the salutation at the top: “To My Secret Not Admirer.”
“Ay Dios Mio,” I whispered under my breath as I stared at the neat black handwriting. I was about to take the card and put it into my pocket when it suddenly struck me that if I took it he would know that the letter writer was someone in the office. “Oh, mierda,” I muttered. “Shit, shit, shit!”
I thought hard about what to do and then it came to me. I said a quick prayer and then ran to my desk, hoping that Magnolia would keep talking for another couple of minutes. I grabbed my phone, took a photo of the notecard, and then took a second one, just in case the first one was blurry and ran back to the bag. I pushed the card back into the pocket and zipped it up. As I straightened back up, I heard Magnolia talking about some new protocol with Experian, and I took a deep breath. I headed back to my desk, this time walking slowly and deliberately, as if I were representing Miss California