Page 68 of The Cinderella Secret
“Nothing,” said Lilly. “We’re fine. No plotting.”
Nai Nai laughed. “Ella is being courted by a boy Bai does not approve of.”
Liu rolled her eyes. “When does he ever approve of any of the boys any of you date? Ignore him.” She disappeared back into the hall but was back a second later. “I mean, assuming he’s a nice boy and is respectful and there’s nothing actually wrong with him.”
Ella laughed. “He’s very respectful and I don’t think there’s anything wrong with him.”
“Well, then, carry on. Let me know if you need my help bludgeoning Bai into being polite.”
“Thank you, Aunt,” said Ella.
“Of course. Now really, Lilly. Stop pestering Ella and let her sleep.”
“Nai Nai is pestering Ella,” complained Lilly, getting up reluctantly.
“Nai Nai is old and can do whatever she wants,” said Liu, and Nai Nai beamed smugly over her mug of tea. Lilly stomped off, rolling her eyes.
“Nai Nai, you know it’s more than just disapproval,” said Ella.
“Yes,” agreed Nai Nai.
“Why does he hate the Deveraux?”
“You’ll have to ask him,” said Nai Nai.
26
Jackson – The Storage Unit
“What do you mean: he’s not there?” demanded Jackson, barking at Garcia.
Mateo Garcia was a thirty-six-year-old ex-beat cop who had gotten fed up with his job and his wife at about the same time. He ranted about divorce attorneys periodically and Jackson thought he probably lived in an apartment with one La-Z-Boy and a massive TV. He was also a reliable employee and Aiden’s assigned minder. Not that Aiden had known that until recently. Once the Zhao mess was cleared up, Jackson was probably going to have to rotate Garcia out.
“I mean,” said Garcia, “that I am standing in his place right now and it is empty except for a note that says: Hey Garcia, if you pop in feel free to help yourself to the beer in the fridge.”
Jackson growled in frustration. “Why are they so determined to get themselves killed?”
“I don’t know,” said Garcia. “Probably because they’re related to you?”
“Ha fucking ha,” said Jackson.
“What do you want me to do?” asked Garcia.
“Well, first, put the beer back.”
“Damn it.”
“It’s six o’clock in the morning.”
“Nothing wrong with morning beer.”
Jackson sometimes felt like he was running fraternity or reformatory for wayward boys.
“Uh-huh. Except I don’t really want him to know you can get into his house. Put it back, then head back to the office.”
“What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to go ahead and look like a putz and call him,” said Jackson. “He agreed to have you follow him around. Not answering the door means I can call. I just don’t like doing it.”
