My Fake Family - Chapter 2

Chapter 2 for My Fake Family, new characters are introduced.

My Fake Family

Chapter 2

I pulled my red Ford Focus to the tiny safe house on Washington Avenue. It wasn’t even a house; if I was playing MASH, this could qualify for the ‘shack’ portion of the ‘S’ in the name, nearly out in the middle of nowhere. If this were an episode of America’s Most Wanted, it could pass for a crackhead’s house. The tiny one-car garage could maybe fit a Fiat or a Beetle. My clock read 10:25, which meant I had five minutes to figure out who I could be working with this time. There were three cars parked nearby, all black. I didn’t recognize any of them. My red car stuck out like a sore thumb.
“That frickin ho probably paired me up with a bunch of randos,” I mumbled. “I’m Kelly, and I’m better than you,” I continued, impersonating her. “I think you know exactly who the mole is.”
Honestly, nothing would surprise me if Kelly was the mole, I thought. I’ve seen so much shit go down, seen so much betrayal, and I thought Fred Meyer was a hell hole.
I slowly gathered my few belongings I had brought with me: my purple Nalgene water bottle, my purse that had llamas on it, a Nature Valley granola bar, and a small plastic container that I had filled with Goldfish crackers. I picked my way carefully to the door of the safe house. It was the beginning of November, but somehow, today, it hit seventy degrees. Oregon had some trippin’ weather.
I approached the porch and took a deep breath before completing the coded knock on the door. One, two, three, pause, four, five, pause, six.
I waited around nervously. Please, anyone but a douchebag to work with. Just someone nice, that’s all I ask.
The front door cracked open, but I couldn’t see who opened it.
The person gave a little gasp, then opened it wide. The person burst out of the house and wrapped me in a giant hug. And the only person who’s ever greeted me like that is-
“Rachel!” the person said. “I’m so glad it’s you! I thought I was going to get some random person off the street!”
He squeezed me so hard, I thought my eyes would come out of their sockets.
“Hiya Jason, good to see you, too!” I mumbled through his tight embrace.
He lets go of me. “I was legit hoping it was you.”
I looked up at him and saw that he was sporting his black glasses. I nearly swooned.
OMG, he wore his glasses!
“I like your glasses, sir, they look nice on you,” I smirked and could feel my face growing red.
“Ooh, Rachel,” Jason frowned.
“What?”
“Do you still have a crush on me?” he asked, not at all shocked.
I frowned. “I shall not confirm nor deny that.”
“You’re blushing,” Jason stated teasingly. “Geez, after all these years of working together, and you still have a crush on me? What am I going to do about you?” He offered me a fist bump, which I returned.
I adjusted my own pair of glasses. “So? I like a hot guy in glasses.” I smiled at him. “Who else is here?” attempting to change the subject.
“Oh, we got a great team,” he began. “A literal dream team, right here.” He motioned for me to come in.
Sometimes I couldn’t tell if he was being legit or not. This was one of those times.
“I thought we were the literal dream team,” I whispered.
“Oh, we are, but we just new players added to the roster,” Jason whispered back.
“Guys!” He called out. “Rachel’s here!”
“Geez, did you have to wake up the entire neighborhood?” I whispered.
“Oh, you want me to go louder?” Jason grinned. He turned and- “RACHEL’S HERE!”
I punched him playfully in the arm. “I think you woke the dead with that one.”
“We heard you the first time!” a female voice hollered back.
“Is that Maggie?” I wondered. I hadn’t seen her in forever.
Jason and I entered the living room. Maggie Stevens was seated on the small couch, and a younger male was seated on the floor. I was shocked to see Maggie. Her hair was a platinum blonde pixie cut, and the last time I saw her was three years ago, her hair was jet black and down to her butt. Her current style did not look good on her. I noticed that she also wore dark-colored leather gloves, even though we were inside. Maybe she has super dry hands? Or perhaps she was trying out a new fashion statement, straight off the New York Fashion Week runway.
I noticed the skin on Maggie’s face was smooth, very smooth, and her lips looked abnormally plump. Maybe she’s into filler and Botox, I thought. It’s been a while since I’ve seen her. I don’t really remember that her face looked like a few years ago. I had only worked with her on one other occasion, whereas with Jason, I’ve worked with him on five or six missions now. Or was it seven?
“Hi, Maggie,” I said, nodding to her. “Nice to see you.”
So, if Jason’s my fake dad, and Maggie is my fake mom, this other guy must be my fake brother, I decided.
“I’m Eddie,” the younger male said, raising his hand. “We’re supposed to be fake brother and sister.” He adjusted his black beanie hat, then stood up, revealing black skinny jeans that were severely ripped.
He looks hella goth, or maybe he’s emo, I thought displeased. Are goth and emo the same thing? I don’t even know anymore. I don’t even know what I’m classified as, bedsides nerd or geek or just a weirdo in general.
We shook hands cordially.
I remember you, Eddie Smith, but do you remember me? I thought.
“Hi, I’m Rachel,” I say with a smile.
I must have had a furrow on my face, because the next thing I know, I catch sight of Jason and he’s giving me one of his looks, one that reads, What’s wrong?
I give him my best fake-ass smile. Everything, Jason, everything. I already have a bad feeling about this mission.
Jason clapped his hands together. “All right, so Kelly’s supposed to be calling us any minute to give us our mission and where we’re going.”
His cell phone rang a moment later.
“It’s Jason,” he answered, placing the phone on speaker so we could all hear.
“Is everyone at the safe house?” the director asked. “Anyone absent?”
“Guys, sound off real quick.”
“Maggie’s here,” Maggie said.
“Eddie’s here,” Eddie offered.
“And Rachel is here,” I hollered. “You know what that means, Kelly? ‘All present and accounted for!’” I gave her my best Sergeant Schultz impersonation.
The room fell quiet, and Jason turned towards me, raising an eyebrow.
“Damn, girl, that was spot on!” he offered me his fist to bump, which I did. Only he and I knew that I just referenced the old TV show, Hogan’s Heroes, which was one of the things we initially bonded over.
“Glad to know everyone made it there in one piece,” the director stated. “Anyone have a laptop?”
“Me!” Maggie raised her hand. She began getting out of its black case and logging in.
“All right, Maggie, I’m emailing you some of the info I have on your target,” the director began. “Your target’s name is Yesenia Hollingsworth, age thirty-seven.”
“All right, I got it, it’s up,” Maggie said.
We began browsing through the email as we listened to the director go on with her speech.
“So far, we’ve gathered that Yesenia is the second-in-command to an international trafficking organization. This includes but is not limited to, trafficking drugs, weapons and ammunitions, women and children, and in some cases, money laundering.”
“She sounds like a winner winner chicken dinner,” I whispered to Jason.
Jason snorted and shook his head. He looked at me and rolled his eyes.
We all stared at her photos, trying to memorize the girl’s facial and body features.
She has a tattoo on her left forearm, but I can’t quite tell what it is, I thought. When I had worked at Fred Meyer, I was good at remembering the shoplifters that came in, often memorizing their tattoos, if they had any, and where they were located.
“Is she currently active right now?” Eddie asked.
“Yes and no,” the director said. “We’ve had her under surveillance for a few years, but she kinda lays low for awhile if she thinks someone is watching her.”
“How would she know if someone is watching her?” Maggie whispered; I was not sure to whom she was talking to.
“Jason, you are the team leader on this mission,” the director continued.
“Yes, ma’am,” Jason said smiling at me.
Which means whatever he says, goes, his way or the highway, I thought. I feel slightly better about this mission with Jason in charge.
“Is she personally doing things, or just giving orders?” Jason inquired.
“We don’t know that yet,” the director answered.
“So, if she’s second-in-command, who’s first in command?” I asked.
“We don’t know,” Kelly said.
“Who are the people below her?” Eddie asked.
“We don’t know that yet,” Kelly said.
“What do we know?” I huffed.
“I just told you what we know,” Kelly retorted. “For this mission, you guys are going over to Corvallis.”
I jumped. No way, that’s my hometown! I better hope and pray nobody recognizes me or remembers me.
“We do know that Yesenia is currently the cheerleading coach at Corvallis High School,” the director said. “Rachel, you have a contact at the school, name’s Edward Dantz.”
I gasped. “Mr. Dantz? I didn’t know he was with this agency.”
“Do you know him?” Jason asked worriedly. He knew just as well as the rest of us, that if any of us knew any of the people in the town we’d be going to, it was a conflict of interest.
“Yeah, he was advisor for all four years and my math teacher for junior year,” I said nervously.
“Uh, this ain’t gonna work, Kelly,” Jason began. “That’s a conflict of interest. That means this mission is already in jeopardy.”
“It’s fine, it’ll be fine,” the director said. “I doubt he remembers you, Rachel. As you say yourself, you were never a star student.”
That is true, however, I had him all four years of high school as my career advisor, and for awhile after I graduated, we kept in touch by email, I thought.
“I don’t know about this, director,” Jason protested.
“I said he’s a contact, I never said he was making an arrest!” Kelly responded. “It will be fine.”
“Twenty bucks he still remembers me,” I said, jabbing Jason in the ribs with my elbow.
He gasped. “Ouch, that’s my rib. Bet taken, though.”
I already knew I’d win. There was literally no way that Mr. Dantz wouldn’t remember me. I had a foreign, hard to pronounce last name. On top of that, I still look the same now as I did the day I graduated from there despite being in my early thirties. I’m still a frickin twig, with maybe three percent body fat. This was one of the main reasons I was still part of the Fake Family Division at the agency: I could still, somehow, pass for way younger, specifically a teenager. That was the main requirement for this job for us younger agents: be an adult but be able to pass for an underage individual, which I have been successful at for ten years and counting. I’ve heard whispers in passing that the usual time frame for the younger agents in the Fake Family Division usually last five to seven years, then they move on to different departments/divisions.
When I hit forty, I’ll look like I’m eighteen or nineteen, I thought. When I’m fifty, I’ll look twenty-one.
“All right, next up on our agenda tonight: your fake identities!” the director announced. “I’ve sent Maggie another email detailing your names, ages, and backgrounds. I need the four of you to meet back at the office tomorrow morning at nine for your pictures, documents, and new wardrobes. Have a good night. Peace out, girl scout.”
“Okay, now I got her second email,” Maggie said, rolling her eyes. “We’re kinda slo-mo today.”
She pushed the laptop to the middle of the floor so we could all see at the same time.
“Sick!” Eddie cried out. “My name’s Billy!” He and Maggie shared a laugh, then stopped abruptly. “Sorry,” he said. “Inside joke. You two wouldn’t understand.”
“Eww,” I said, peering at my name. “Mine’s Rebecca.” Then I gasped. “I’m sixteen! YES! HA! I gain a year! Hell yeah!”
“Tired of being fifteen?” Jason smirked.
“At least now, I can legally be a licensed driver in the state of Oregon,” I put in.
“That is true,” he considered.
“Maybe they’ll have me drive the getaway car!” I squealed. “Ooh, I could do a car chase!” I paused, then had a thought. “No, even better: you driving Jason, and I’ll shoot out the tires of the car that’s chasing us!”
“That only happens in the movies, Rachel,” Maggie said sadly.
“Oh, God! Which spy movie did you watch this time?” Jason asked.
“You know those movies are hella fake, right?” Eddie asked me. “They never give an accurate depiction of the work that we do on a day-to-day basis. They’re for entertainment purposes only, not documentary style.”
“I watched 3 Days to Kill, with Mister McHottie, Kevin Costner,” I smiled and winked at Jason. “He should have worn his glasses!” I could feel myself blushing, but I didn’t care. “He’s hella dreamy with his glasses.” Before that, I saw his other movie, The Guardian, and decided, while watching it, that he could be my rescue swimmer any day.
“So, all of a sudden, you have the hots for Kevin Costner?” Jason teased. “Kid, he’s way older than you!”
“Hey, I like his movies, ok?” I said. He’s dream boat material, you got a problem with that? I can have my daydreams of being a damsel in distress in one of his movies, all right? Not like that’d ever happen, but still, I am allowed to have my fangirl daydreams just anybody else.
“If I ever meet him, I’ll be like, hey sugar how we doin’ today?” I said, winking.
“Eww, he’d probably run the other way, and be like, get away from me,” Jason snorted.
“So, what’s your name gonna be, Jason?” I asked, trying to change the subject. I had a feeling Jason was going to keep teasing me the rest of the night if I didn’t move things along.
“Apparently, it’s Tony,” he stated calmly. “Not Anthony. Tony.”
“Is our last name DiNozzo?” I snickered. “Like on NCIS?”
Jason rolled his eyes and stuck out his tongue. “I don’t know about that, kid.”
“Maggie?” I asked. “What’s your new name?”
“I’m Jennifer,” she stuck out her tongue like she was annoyed. “A frickin bimbo name.”
“What’s our last name?” Eddie wondered.
“Um, looks like it’s Polinski,” Maggie said, scrolling through the email.
“Hmm, Polish?” I inquired.
“Yeah, I don’t know, maybe,” Jason said.
We sat in silence for the next few minutes. I pondered what I would look like as “Rebecca Polinski.” Should I do a wig? I asked myself. Cut and dye my hair? I could keep my natural hair, but just straighten it, I’ve done that before. Hmm, would I go goth this time, or stick with a preppy look? I could go grunge like from the nineties. Or is called punk? A skater chick? I don’t think I’ve done that yet. Or . . . or I could be a plastic, high maintenance bimbo, like those girls on Mean Girls.
I was so deep in my thoughts that I didn’t know we had started to pack up to leave and go to our respective houses.
“Yo, earth to Rachel,” Jason snapped his fingers at me, which caused me to jump (again).
“Yeah, what’s up?” I said.
“You good?” he prodded.
Maggie and Eddie were out of earshot of us.
But just in case one of them could hear us, I took out a small piece of paper from my purse and a pen and wrote something’s off, and handed it to him. I watched him read it and he frowned. He motioned for me to hand him the pen, which I did, and braced myself for his response which tended to vary from a full-on interrogation to something cryptic like “listen to your gut.”
He handed me the paper back. I turned it over.
Trust your instincts, it read.
Ah, he went the cryptic route, I thought. Well, my instincts are telling me that something is off, I just don’t know quite what it is. Is it me? No, most definitely not. It had already been established that I am most definitely off my rocker. Is it this mission, or is it this team?