Page 8 of Keep Your Friends Close and Your… Work Enemy Closer?

And this light, sandy brown shorter hair wasn't my favorite look either, and it definitely wasn't so easy to change up. So I'd had to just wear a baseball cap all weekend. Not the most professional thing in the world. But no one dared question me.

I walked down the long hallway, the smell of my grandmother's bacon filling up my penthouse, not to mention the coffee aroma. My stomach growled in appreciation. Good thing I'd already worked out this morning because I was ready to stuff myself.

When I rounded the corner into the kitchen, I spotted the feast laid out on the island, and as usual, the spread was fit for a king.

"Max!" she said when she saw me. "We missed you this weekend. Welcome back. Come give me a hug."

I gave her a quick embrace and a peck on the cheek, the familiar scent of her Chanel No. 5 filling my nose. "I missed you too," I said. "And thanks for cooking this morning."

Who needed a chef when she lived here? Especially when she thought I needed more meat on my bones. My bones were just fine though, thank you.

I filled up a plate, piled high with eggs, bacon, pancakes, plus some fruit, because it was the healthy thing to do, and sat down just in time for my mom to come in. I studied her face as she smiled at me. She looked well-rested today. Living here was good for her.

"Good morning, hon," she said. "What time did you get in last night?"

"Late. But I slept on the plane."

She kissed the back of my head before grabbing her own plate, my grandma finally taking a seat as well, the two of them looking at me intently.

"What?" I asked, wiping my mouth with a napkin. "Do I have food all over my face or something?"

My mom laughed. "No. I just can't get used to that thing over your lip."

I did my best attempt at twirling the edge of my mustache. "You mean you don't like it?"

She didn't say anything, but my grandmother filled the void. "Well, I happen to like it. It takes me back to when the men were all so handsome, just like you."

"Thank you, Nana."

"And Papa likes it too, don't you?" she said, turning to the blank space beside her, talking to my dead grandpa like he was there. As usual. Something my mom and I had discussed many,many times, finally deciding that it was harmless to still talk to your late husband after being married fifty-plus years.

For all we knew, the ghost of him was actually standing right there next to my grandma, listening to every word, enjoying our family breakfast even if he couldn't actually eat anything. Life was full of mysteries, after all.

"I'm glad he likes it too."

"At least it's only for a short time," my mom said. "You don't usually last long at these undercover jobs."

She had a point. Generally speaking, it only took several weeks, a month tops, to get the inside scoop I couldn't get as Max Sterling, CEO, who seemed to inspire fear, stuttering, anxiety attacks, and absolute acquiescence, everyone turning into the ultimate yes man around me.

"Are there any nice girls there?" Nana asked.

My mind immediately turned to Cordelia, or Dee, the nickname I'd given her just to annoy her. "No. No nice girls. Just a mean one who hates me."

Their nearly identical eyes widened. "What'd you do?" my mom asked.

I laughed. "Nothing. You know I'm a perfect angel."

"So are you going to give her the ax?" my somewhat bloodthirsty grandma said.

Guzzling some coffee, I pretended to give that some thought, buying time. Because truthfully, I liked that Dee hated me and treated me like shit. It was refreshing. No walking on eggshells from her, no instantaneous bowing to my authority. But instinct told me, if I said that, these two would pounce.

"You like her," my mom said.

Ah, fuck. I'd totally fumbled that by pausing for too long. "I wouldn't say that."

My grandma clapped her hands together. "Oooh, Maxie's found a new girlfriend!"

I shoveled in the rest of my eggs. It was time to retreat.

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