Page 14 of Vera Wong's Guide to Snooping (on a Dead Man)

“Polite,” TJ says immediately. Was that a good answer to give?It was true, to a point. Xander was polite until he was very much not. “A hard worker.”

“Mm,” Vera grunts as she scribbles in her notebook. “That not saying much about him. What else?”

“I mean…to tell you the truth, I didn’t know him that well.” That’s sort of true. The best lies all have a grain of truth in them, don’t they? “In fact, I never even met him in person.”

Vera’s head snaps up. “You never meet him? Aiya, how can? You are his manager, but you don’t even care to spend time with him?”

“This is how things work in the industry,” TJ says.Too defensive, he thinks. He must reek of guilt. But he’s not lying about this. He hasn’t met most of his clients. But maybe that’s the whole problem. That’s why he’s in this mess now. Because when it comes down to it, who are all of these people he’s representing? And what a word—“represent.” Such a heavy one, and yet he’s rarely stopped to think about it. What they do reflects on him, and vice versa. So much trust placed in each other, and yet they are in effect strangers.

“Oh, if I am in industry, it would not be how it works,” Vera says smartly, and TJ believes her. “You never meet with Xander, so how you contact each other?”

“Mostly over email and text. Occasionally, if there is a significant offer being made, I would make a phone call, but you know young people nowadays, they’re allergic to calls.”

“Not the young people I know,” Vera says, and again, TJ believes her. If there’s anyone who could make a young person pick up their phone, it would be this surprisingly terrifying old lady in front of him. “So, what kind of deal you get for Xander?”

“Let me think.” Again, that question running through hishead: What can I tell her? What can’t I? “A couple of sponsorship deals. One was with a local IPA, and another was with a sneaker company. Then there were the collabs.”

“What is collabs?”

TJ can’t figure out if she really doesn’t know what a collab is or if she’s testing him. “They’re collaboration deals between two or more promising influencers. I reach out to my other clients or other influencers who I think might work well together and ask if they want to do a few posts with each other. That way, you hit both audiences with one shot. It’s a great way to get more exposure.”

“I see. Like networking.”

“Yeah, exactly.” Then it hits TJ that he really, really shouldn’t have told Vera about collaborations. Oh my god, he really is bad at this. But then again, she probably knew the entire time what they were since she’s an undercover cop. Or maybe she’s the FBI. He can see that. But then, wouldn’t she have flashed her badge at him? The FBI does that a lot. They’re like that proverbial Harvard grad—how can you find out if a guy went to Harvard? You don’t, he’ll tell you within five minutes of meeting you. The FBI’s like that, right? In all the movies, they talk to someone—anyone—and first thing they do is show their badge. TJ doesn’t blame them. If he were an FBI agent, he’d do the same. And it would probably annoy the hell out of Robin. He can practically see her rolling her eyes and saying, “Okay, Dad, no one’s impressed.” Why is he thinking about this right now when he should be thinking about what a massive mistake it was talking to this woman?

“Anyway, I have a lot of work to do, so…”

“Oh yes, young people are so busy nowadays.” But she doesn’t make a move to leave. Instead, she rummages once more in her shopping cart and lifts a couple of containers out. “Claypot ricewith Chinese sausage and mushrooms, and this one is crispy roasted pork belly. I cook for my family, but you looking like you need it more.”

“I can’t possibly—”

But already she’s opened one of the containers, and the smell that wafts out is so delicious that TJ’s brain zaps his mouth shut. And fills it with saliva.Shut up and eat, his brain tells his entire body, and TJ finds himself reaching out and picking up a piece of roasted pork belly. The skin is crunchy and salty, and the meat is juicy, and it is quite possibly the best thing TJ has ever put in his mouth. His eyes close, and a sound that’s almost scandalous comes out of him.

“Don’t forget to share with your colleagues,” Vera says.

“Oh, I don’t think so,” TJ mumbles through a mouth full of delicious pork. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. I will be back. I bring more food next time.”

Yay, goes TJ’s stomach.Nooo, goes his survival instincts. He can only watch helplessly as Vera marches out of his office, her foldable shopping cart trundling along behind her.

Six

AIMES

Aimes is trying to get a photo of herself with her beautiful cup of dirty matcha, but neither the drink nor her face is cooperating. It’s one of those days where even the most flattering angles don’t seem to be doing her any favors, and the sheen of condensation sticking to her plastic cup is making it hard to see the beautiful swirls of brown and green. The swirls are the whole reason why she’d ordered a dirty matcha. She really prefers straight coffee, but straight coffee doesn’t get as many likes as a swirly, multicolored drink, so here she is. She tries pouting, but her chin trembles, and before she knows it, a tear slips down her cheek, then another. “Fuck,” she mutters, swiping at her face savagely.

“Amy?” someone says.

“It’s Aimes, actually,” Aimes says automatically. Story of her life, correcting people about her name. She dabs at her face again before looking up. Standing in front of her is a tiny old woman. “Um…I’m not interested.”

The old woman sits down anyway.

Aimes looks around the café. Is this a prank? She wants to ask the old lady to leave, but that would be rude, and she looks like a helpless little grandma, and what kind of monster would be rude to a helpless little grandma? “Are you lost?” she says kindly.

“No, my dear. Come, I help you with that.” She plucks the phone smartly out of Aimes’s hand, aims the camera at her, and takes a picture before Aimes realizes it.

“Wait, you can’t just—huh.” The picture is actually a good one. Aimes’s green eyes are somehow brighter, and her expression of slight surprise makes her look really pretty and innocent. For a split second, Aimes experiences a tiny shot of endorphins at the sight of the flattering photo, then reality overwhelms her once more. She takes the phone back from the old lady and mumbles, “Thanks.”

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