Page 13 of Love at First Sighting
“Show me that badge again. If I’m going to tell you what I saw, I need to know you’re not an impostor.”
I tap an extremely expensive tennis shoe on the dingy parking lot floor. He wavers in place. Then he shows it to me again.
“Neat,” I say. “Can I see the leather? It’s really good quality.”
Flatter this dumbass, I think. Flattery will get pretty boys eating from the palm of your hand.
“You must beveryimportant if they gave you such a nice badge case.”
He huffs. “Yeah, sure.”
But as he does, his grip loosens on the case. This is exactly the moment I’ve been waiting for. I yank it the rest of the way from his hands, and before he can curse or stop me, I toss it full speed into the half-filled dumpster behind him. He pivots with a shocked gasp.
“Mybadge,” he hisses. “Why would you do that? You told me you’d talk!”
If only he knew I lied for a living. If only he knew how good at deception I am, even if I’m not proud of it. I bet none ofthatis in his file on me.
Agent Carter rushes to the dumpster and peers over the edge. He lets out a sad snivel and stands on his toes to scope it out for his badge.
“Wait,” he mutters, turning back around. But by the time he realizes his mistake, I’m already in my car and peeling out, heading far, far away from my government-sanctioned Man in Black.
Chapter 4
Carter
They didnotcover dumpster diving in Men in Black School.
They gave me weapons training (failed), a full crash course in close encounters and craft identification, and a list of laws we could bend but not break, but they did not prepare me at all to sift through tragically rotten bananas, discarded Chipotle burrito bowls, and an entire Ikea kitchen chair.
I am sure most of the other, more respected agents are simply lurking across the street from their subject’s house instead ofthis. I can’t imagine Marcus or Brad climbing into a dumpster.
I might not be the best agent in the office by their metrics, but dammit, I sure do try hard.
PIS Moderately Okay Employee of the Month: Special Agent Carter Brody, for valiantly leaping into a dumpster in the line of duty.
When El tossed my badge, I hoped it’d land right on top of all the muck and I could just pluck it out. But because life isfull of cosmic jokes, it slips through trash and sinks deeper. I am, however, glad I wore sneakers. I discard my hat and jacket and roll up the sleeves of my button-down so I can hopefully get another day out of this suit. I hop onto the side of the dumpster, balancing on one of the ladder rungs, and peer inside.
I know I have bigger concerns ahead of me than what I’m about to touch; El is already gone, and by the time I find my badge, there’s no way I’ll be able to catch her trail.
This is why the other agents don’t have faith in me. I’m not enough of a hard-ass and I like to believe people are honest and good, so when El promised she’d open up to me, I listened—you know, like an idiot. To be fair, I was completely charmed by everything about her.
Even with little makeup and a messy bun, she was the most gorgeous person I’d ever seen. I was quickly hypnotized by the freckles sprawled across her nose like constellations and the strong scent of crisp and clean cucumber—
And now I’m swooning in a dumpster.
I know it’s been a while since I’ve been with anyone, but Jesus, I did not think I wasthatlovesick. My love life might be a series of dates from whatever the dating app of the week is, but no one ever makes it past date three. That’s the point at which I need to start being honest with people and tell them what Ireallydo. Saying “I work for the government” is weird and only works the first couple of times before people think I’m being too deceptive.
I’d rather be deceptive about my job than let them get far enough to realize I’m too broken to love. I doubt anyone would want to carry the baggage of a struggling orphan like me.
I touch a chilled noodle that triggers my gag reflex, but asI push the cup away, I find my badge. It glimmers under the harsh, buzzing overhead lights. At one point, I wassoproud of it. I thought I’d paid my dues enough once I became a field agent, but that was just the start.
I thought if my dad could see how far I’d come, he’d be proud, too. But I’m not sure he would be.
What parent would be proud of their kid digging through trash, following some model around Los Angeles?
I wipe sticky residue off the tin badge, slip it back into my pocket, and reach for my hat.
It’s older than I am, and it’s frayed at the brim and along the inside, so I’m always stitching it up with black thread. I don’tlovethe hassle of wearing a hat, or the flat hair it inflicts, but this one is my dad’s. I’ll take anything I can to be close to him. I rest it back on my head.
