Saturday morning I was refreshed and newly resolved. I put the finishing touches on my plan—a plan that was tentatively called Operation Catch A Liar Liar Pants on Fire—and tonight it was a go. The rest of these twelve hours, however, were dedicated to my day job and the successful execution of a little girl's birthday party.

        Jackson and I came in early to start and finish the cakes he'd made for our soiree. Mrs. Huang had nixed the idea of fondant icing on the cakes, to the disappointment of Jackson, so to make it up I let him play his inappropriate early 2000s hip-hop mixtape as loud as he wanted while he worked.

        I left him in the kitchen singing about apple-bottom jeans to pull the decorations from the storage closet. The ornate tablecloths I'd bought for such occasions were heavy, durable, and far cheaper than they appeared. The plan was to push two of the foldable long tables together and cover them with the biggest tablecloth I had. Then I'd pull out the linen seat covers, the projector, and the "fine" china and set a table fit for a princess. I had to google the correct place setting for the silverware since it'd been a while but otherwise, it wasn't too complicated.

         I was just about to drag the decorations upstairs when Johnny came in (not at all dressed like a butler). "Hey," I said. "Great timing, help me get this stuff upstairs."

        "Okay." A man of few words, which is great because last night I promised my boyfriend I wouldn't spend any more time alone with him, but to be fair I'd promised Johnny this job first.

        Together we hauled the decorations up the stairs, and then he followed my lead as I showed him what to do. Once we'd pushed the tables together, covered them with the tablecloth, and set the table the room looked almost like some sort of fancy ballroom. Almost.

        The last step was the walls. I pulled the fancy gold curtains from the bag and smoothed the wrinkles out with my hands. "I want to hang these up in each corner and over the door."

        He held the ladder while I attached the curtains with the help of some temporary wall hooks. It took an hour, but when we were done the room was transformed from an ordinary conference room to a delicately decorated luncheonette. The delicate folds of the curtains made them look like the world's finest tapestries. Once the sun came up the light would catch just right through the window and the fabrics would almost sparkle. The table looked fit for any Lord or Lady. All that was missing was the refreshments.

        "I need to start the coffee," I said to Johnny. "Downstairs it's business as usual. The party starts at nine."

        By eight-forty the first members of the party arrived.

        "This place looks amazing," Mrs. Huang said when she got a look at the upstairs. The only person more excited than her was Olivia, her six-year-old daughter.

        "It's so pretty!" Olivia started jumping in place like a tulle wrapped bunny rabbit.

        Mr. and Mrs. Huang went about throwing up balloons, streamers, and ribbons overtop my own decorations. I watched them struggle on their tippy toes to tape balloons to the wall. I would have offered the ladder except they weren't covered on my insurance if one of them fell and broke their neck.

        When nine o'clock came the little girls and their parents started trickling in. As I poured coffee behind the counter a parade of tiny princesses walked by, presents in hands and smiles on faces.

        We spent the next four hours taking turns serving the upstairs party and the regulars downstairs. We started with the sandwiches—a delicate smoked salmon and cucumber and a simple peanut butter and jelly for the kids. Then we served their drinks. They'd chosen blueberry and apple cinnamon tea, and a lemon lavender for the adults. Lastly Jackson brought up the cakes. When he rolled the cart through the door some of the little girls gasped with excitement. The three-tiered silver platter held two dozen of Jackson's finest mini cakes. The cakes, chocolate, vanilla bean, and lemon sat on tiny little saucers; each one gently piped with a delicious buttercream frosting.

        He'd made one medium sized cake for the birthday girl. On top was a chunky number six candle. After she blew it out we would box that one for the family to take home and serve the mini cakes. There were enough for each child and parent to have two plus a spare dozen in case of accident.

        By midday they asked me to plug their USB into the projector so they could watch the latest Disney Princess movie. I obliged as the parents helped their daughters drag their chairs up and around the projector screen. The room went from a princess tea party to a chaotic makeshift theater room in five seconds flat.

        "You didn't mention you had an artist," Mrs. Huang whispered once the production logos started rolling.

        I was confused for only a moment. "Yes...though that's not his job."

        "Do you think he could paint the girls while we're here?"

        "Like, face painting?"

        "No, like a portrait of the party."

        "I'll ask him, but I don't know if he'll say yes." I found Johnny cleaning up a spill by the condiments table. "Mrs. Huang requested a painting from our house artist."

        He stopped wiping at a pile of damp sugar. "Is that me?"

        "Apparently. I'm not the one who told her you were an artist."

        "Oh yeah," he said with an embarrassed smile. "We got to talking."

        I shrugged. "You don't have to do it if you don't want to, but you can keep whatever you earn."

        "I could use the extra cash."

        "You've got the supplies, right?"

        "Yeah. Left them where you said I could."

        "Then go for it."

        I was about to excuse myself to my office for a much-needed government mandated break when another one of the mothers from the party walked up to me.

        "Excuse me," she said with a distinctive North Floridian twang. "My daughter dropped her cute little cake. Could she have another one."

        "Yes, ma'am." I said with a smile. I found Jackson in the pantry grabbing another pack of disposable coffee cups. "Jackson, could you run up a spare chocolate, please? The little girl that wants it is in the green dress. Her mom's wearing a floral blouse."

        "Sure."

        With that bit of delegation, I retreated to my office and shut the door behind me. I slid down into my desk chair and let out an audible sigh of pleasure when I was finally off my feet. I wish they would have told me how much physical labor went into owning your own business. Being on your feet for six hours straight on a Saturday is so not the business.

        I had kicked off my flats and relaxed back in my chair when my cell rang. I sighed with agitation but sat up. The caller I.D read 'Mom'.

        ...I could just not answer. Maybe I'm in the bathroom. Maybe I stepped outside. This phone and I aren't attached at the hip...

        On the last ring I answered. "Hey mom, what is it?"

        "You busy?" she said with a chipper tune.

        "I'm at work. You know that."

        "I need you to come over and help me paint."

        She couldn't see me. but I made such a face. "Paint? You don't paint. Every wall in the house is the same white it was when we bought it."

        "I read on the refinance website that they take off points for chipped paint."

        "So you want to do a little touch up?"

        "I already went to Home Depot!" Her enthusiasm rose as she said it. "I got brushes, paint, drop cloth, rollers, scrapers—all that."

        If spending money were an Olympic sport mom would win the gold every time. "How much did you spend?"

        "I'm broke 'til payday."

        Typical. "If you need more money..."

        "Thank you! You are the sweetest daughter, but what I really need is for you to come over and help me."

        A sigh threatened to escape my lips, but I bit it back. "Alright. I can be there tomorrow morning."

        "Why not tonight?"

        "I have plans."

        "Doing what?" She said slyly. "Hanging out with that boyfriend?"

        "His name is Manny and no, I have plans with a friend."

        "Oh, okay," she declared without waiting for confirmation. "Sunday then."

        I hung up and opened up the calendar app on my phone.

        Okay, so I'll add help mom to my weekly itinerary. That means by the end of the week I'll need to help mom paint the whole house, choose an applicant for the new hire, confirm the shift schedule with all employees, deposit this week's revenue into the bank, renegotiate terms with my napkin supplier, catch a filthy lying heifer at her own game, find Peter and convince him to turn himself in, make sure Manny doesn't catch me doing those last two things, and make sure a six year old has the best birthday ever.

        Okay, cool. Everything's cool. Everything's fine. This is fine. Yep. No big deal. Piece of cake. I got this. I'm fine. I am a competent adult person, there's no mountain I can't climb. There's no problem without a solution...

        And I can start working on solutions once I've had my lunch hour. I leaned back in my chair content to spend the next thirty minutes relaxing before I grabbed a sandwich from the kitchen.

        I was interrupted from my half-nap by a timid knock on the door that could only be Pasha because Jackson certainly never did anything timid. Perhaps I should consider taking my lunch out of office? "Come in."

        She peeked her head in the door. "Did you have time to think over my idea?"

        "Your idea?" Ah, shit! In all the hubbub I'd forgotten that Pasha has asked me to consider her latte art concept. "Have a seat." It's best to rip it off like a Band-Aid, right?

        She walked over and took the seat opposite mine. As she stirred the room, the scent of clover and eucalyptus filled the air. "So, what do you think?"

        "I've had time to think over your idea," It was important when talking to employees to be clear and concise but also empathetic. "And though I think you're a really great asset and a forward thinker that's not the direction I'm looking to take Taste Teas at this time."

        "But Evie," she groaned. "I just feel like I could be doing so much more than pouring coffee."

        "I know. And your idea has merit but currently we can't incorporate it, foremost because of its cost prohibitive-ness."

        "Oh."

        I sighed. "Pasha, listen. I know this isn't the most fulfilling job but you're one of my most valuable employees. Things this week are hectic but after it's over I promise we'll have a sit down just you and me and we'll figure out how to put that mind of yours to use in a better way."

        "Yeah, alright." She got up and slumped out of the room like I'd just told her there was no Santa Claus.

        Okay. One more thing for the itinerary: Find a way to boost employee morale.

        I had just leaned back and resumed my relaxation position when the phone rang again.

        I stared at the phone with nothing short of resentment before grabbing it. It was Alice. "Hey, I can't talk for too long. It's busy today."

        "That's cool," her smoky voice caressed my ear. "Let's hang out tonight."

        "I can't. I have plans."

        "Doing what?" God, if she didn't sound just like my mom when she asked that.

        "I'm going on a stakeout."

        "...Like on Law and Order?"

        "Yeah."

        "Can I come with?"

        "Why would you want—"

        "They got my ass working sixty hours a week, I just want to see something other than 1040s and W-9's."

        "Can't you call Kanesha?"

        She sucked her teeth. "She got a new man. You know how she gets when there's new dick in her life. Girl's AWOL."

        There was a lot that could happen tonight. Maybe back-up would be useful. "Okay. Eight PM. Taste Teas. Dress in all black."

        "Oh my God, I have just the outfit!" She hung up before I could tell her it was just a joke.

        I hope I don't end up regretting that. I was just leaning back in my seat to relax when—I swear to God—the phone rang again!

        I resisted the urge to throw it across the room and picked up with a smile. "Hey!"

        "Hey," Manny said. "You free tonight?"

        "Actually I'm going out with a girlfriend." I'm impressed that this is coincidentally the truth. Couldn't have been better timed unless I planned it.

        "Okay. I guess I'll have to find something to do." It occurred to me that it was Saturday and so everyone's off right now. It's nice to be popular, I just wish they'd be considerate of the fact I work seven days a week. "How's the birthday party?"

        "Fantastic. The little girls are so cute! I almost wanted one for twenty minutes, then I remembered that's no good."

        "I have those moments sometimes. When my brother's in town with my nieces and nephews. I start thinking about having some of my own. Then I remember the best part of being an uncle is giving them back." Despite being bone tired I got a good hearty laugh from that one. "Anyway, just wanted to say hey."

        "You like me." I declared with a giggle.

        "I'll let you get back to work."

        The rest of the day went off without a hitch. I had my break, ate a sandwich, only one child got sick after a sugar overload, the sun went down, the party ended, I managed to sell a box of the blueberry tea to one of the parents, and we went to cleaning up.

        By seven forty-five the open/closed sign had long been flipped to closed, the tables and chairs had been wiped down, and the floors had been swept and mopped. The tablecloth and seat covers were packed into a large trash bag and put into the trunk of my car; a washing machine in their near future. All that was left was to lock-up.

        I was about to turn off the lights and leave when I remembered Johnny was still upstairs. After the party and the after-party cleanup he'd stayed upstairs to finish the painting he'd started for Mrs. Huang.

        Up the stairs, and in the first room I found him putting the last touches on his painting.

        Looking over his shoulder I watched him dab paint at the small canvas. Somehow, with whatever magic he possessed, he'd turned a thousand little abstract splotches into the scene that was playing out mere hours ago. The colors matched perfectly yet were somehow enhanced—the silver of the tablecloth, the pink on the birthday girl's dress, the teal wallpaper, even the pale cream of Jackson's cakes. It was familiar but ethereal, like peering into a pastel colored dream.

        "That's so cool," I cooed. "How do you do that?"

        "Lots of practice."

        "I don't think I could ever do that. I've never been artistically inclined."

        "Everyone always says that," he turned around to face me. "They think creating something is a gift that comes naturally. And that's true for some, but art is still a skill just like math and science."

        "Really? So you think I could paint like you one day?"

        "You could with enough dedication. Here—" He moved his newly completed work from the easel and replaced it with a pre-stretched eight by ten canvas. "Paint something."

        What the hell, I still had a few minutes before Alice was supposed to get here. "What should I paint?"

        He put the palette in my hands but replaced his paint-soaked brush with a clean one. "Whatever you want. There's no rules."

        He gently gripped my shoulders and moved me to stand in front of the easel. I stared at the immaculately woven threads of the canvas lost in thought for a moment picturing flowers, and fruits, and happy little trees—none of which I even knew how to begin drawing. Then my eyes found the palette and I stared in awe at the smudges of thick paint that had been scraped and swirled and blended together so that he could create with a wider range of colors. I was about to praise his ingenuity when I became aware of a deafening silence.

        Johnny, for some reason, had remained behind me. He stood so close I could feel the heat from his body seeping through the fabric of my blouse. If I merely leaned back, I'd be right on top of him. I attempted to swallow but my mouth had gone dry.

        Should I ask him to move? Should I move? Wouldn't that make it awkward? Suddenly all my senses were on high alert. I was hyperaware of everything within five feet of me. The way the floorboards creaked beneath my shoes. The mild scent of cleaner wafting from downstairs. The black void of night outside the window. The soft glow from the lights overhead. The stillness of the air as neither of us moved apart.

        It seemed as if the world where only as big as the space—or lack thereof—between us. I swallowed self-consciously and dapped a bit of yellow paint in the center of the canvas.

        I turned to face him; all trace of discomfort wiped from my face. "Not exactly a masterpiece," My laugh was as rattled as my nerves.

       "No, but I've seen worse."

        "Liar!" I took the opportunity to step to the side. Immediately the air seemed to cool.

        "Evie I've lived in the art world, okay. I've seen people make shit and call it high art," he took the brush and palette from my hands. "It won't win awards but it's expected for someone with no experience."

        "Really?"

        He started packing up his supplies. "It's less about making something pretty and more about what you're trying to say anyway."

        "Huh? Like a statement? And what am I trying to say?"

        He went to stand in front of the easel and crossed his arms and cupped his chin like the most pretentious of art critics. "Well, you're definitely minimalist. The brush strokes are short and hasty. The yellow on white canvas represents the artist's optimism and enlightenment in a void of uncertainty. As well as being her favorite color."

        I laughed and the last bit of tension in me released. I was being silly. Maybe the stress has finally gotten to me. "How'd you know yellow was my favorite color?"

        His smile was warm and affectionate. "It's just something I noticed about you."

        I didn't know how to answer that, so we stood together in silence. Neither of us seemed to know what to say and thus that strange tension returned, and we waited for God knows how long for the other to either make a move or say something.

        "Evie?"

        I swung around to the door with a huff. "Alice! Oh...what...is it seven already?"

        She stood in the open doorway, her tall frame cloaked in all black. "Uh, yeah. We had those plans. Remember?"

        "Oh course! I'm already to go." I turned back to Johnny. "You're cleaning up, right?"

        "Yeah."

        As I walked awkwardly from the room, I was aware of all eyes on me. When we got out of earshot, I expected Alice to lay into me, though I didn't know why.

        "Well?" she said when we were on the ground floor.

        "Well, what?"

        "What do you think?" she held out her arms and did a little twirl.

        "You know I was joking when I said to wear all black, right?"

        She gasped a most theatrical gasp. "What? No! Why would you joke about dress code?"

        "I joke about everything."

        She screwed her face and crossed her arms. "Got my ass out here looking like a damn ninja."

        "A cute ninja."

        "Cute ninja..."

        I gave her a half-assed shrug. "If anyone could pull it off."

        "Okay, whatever. So, how does this work?"

        "Alright. I have a hunch that the woman that hired me is keeping important secrets. So tonight, we're going to stakeout her apartment."

        "This is so cool! I hope we get into a car chase or something. That'll be something, aye?"

       "That would be something."

        What would be even better would be getting a straight answer out of Rachel. If my hunch was right and she knew more than she was telling me then she had a lot to answer for. And what would I do about Randy? He had lied about not knowing Rachel, I was sure of it. Where did he fit in to all this?

        The two of us waited until Johnny was finished packing upstairs, then locked the doors and walked to the back of the alley and got comfortable in my car. I started it up, half listening to Alice talk a mile a minute about what was happening with her at the office and half thinking about my plan.

        As I pulled out my eye caught a glimpse of something hiding just beyond the rearview mirror. I turned around to get a better look but the quickly deepening night sky left the alley cloaked in darkness. As far as I could tell there was nothing and no one there. Maybe I'm just a paranoid person.

        Yeah, maybe.