Dirty Deeds by Lauren Landish Read Online (FREE)
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Yes, sir. I’m on it, sir. By Monday, of course.” I sigh, rolling my eyes as Donnie, my boss, somehow manages to both ream me out for not delivering yet and make me feel like I can totally accomplish my latest assignment.
I’m not sure how he manipulates people so well, but he does. It’s a gift, I guess.
Hanging up, I look at myself in the mirror, making sure my disguise for today is in tip-top shape. I’m not famous, but my face is known enough that I want to be sure I’m not recognized. My blonde hair is tied up under a dark brunette wig that falls down in perfect mermaid waves, my usually slightly made-up face is fully done like I’m some YouTube makeup tutorial, and I’m dressed in casual clothes that scream money in quality, not flash. I’ve got on the one pair of designer jeans I own, a perfectly slouchy tee, and a fluffy soft hand-knit cardigan.
With the addition of my huge sunglasses and heeled booties, I’m off . . . looking just like one of the other millions of twentysomethings, out for coffee and to run errands. Which is exactly what I need, nondescript from the masses.
It’s nowhere near my normal look, but that’s what makes it a great disguise. Glancing at my watch, I realize I’ll need to take a cab if I’m making my first observation point on time. At least I can turn the receipt in for reimbursement because taking cabs all over the city is definitely above my pay bracket.
I hope Donnie isn’t going to be a prick on the expense report this time.
After a quick ride, I order a coffee and a blueberry muffin before sitting down at what’s become my table over the last week, taking out a notebook full of scribbled notes. To an interested observer, I’m working on a movie, or maybe a TV show, or something similarly vapid. I assume an aura of ‘don’t-fuck-with-me’ and pretend to work, which makes a great cover because I am actually working, just not on what it seems.
Keeping my head still behind the shades, my eyes move left and right, not missing a thing. From the obviously morning-after coffee date, to the mom juggling two kids while bribing them with muffins that look just like mine and will put those two into sugar overload in ten minutes, to the old man reading the paper. I’ve worked long and hard on these skills. They’re more vital to my career than the ability to type quickly.
It’s not long before my target appears. Keith Perkins, the country music star who’s topping charts and winning awards left and right. He walks in to order his morning cup o’joe. He’s not really in disguise, just wearing jeans and a t-shirt, but the missing cowboy hat and tennis shoes instead of boots seem to be all the disguise he needs to go about unrecognized in this town. Then again, this isn’t a big country town. I bet he couldn’t pull this off in Nashville without getting mobbed.