Today's Reading
"Darcy," Borzu says with a sigh.
"Give it a rest," Genevieve says. "It's not like anyone's going to be tuning in to this."
"That doesn't make it any less problematic. We need to nip this podcast in the bud before it snowballs out of control."
"It's a podcast?" I ask. "How bad is it?"
All eyes turn to me.
"You mean you haven't listened to it?" Darcy stares at me.
"The wedding went late last night. Then I had that ridiculously early client intake this morning, remember?"
"Yoga Lady," says Genevieve. "Did she really make you join her on the mat?"
"Technically, she invited me to join her. But yes, I can confirm it's awkward to be in cobra pose while asking a client about their ideal dinner date."
"One sec. I've got it pulled up." Borzu squints at his computer screen. Presses play. A staticky masculine voice blasts through the speakers. The words clip in and out, but the final ones ring out crystal clear:
People call Nura Khan an expert. A magician. Are you kidding me? Here's the deal: Anyone can call themselves an expert. But I'm here to give you the straight facts. The Piyar matchmaking agency doesn't help people. It hurts them. You can post all you want about how magical the agency is, but at the end of the day, she's a fraudster. I know it. Soon the world will too.
The recording abruptly ends. My team watches me, waiting for my response. I look at Borzu's computer screen; the podcast, such as it is, is called Piyar Confidential, and this two-minute "episode" is the sole recording. Darcy has a mama bear attitude when it comes to me, but—
"Okay, that was a little creepy," I say. "But at the end of the day, it's an angry man, what else is new? I don't think it's such a big deal."
"You can't be serious!" Darcy's eyes widen.
"I'm with Nura," says Borzu. "This sounded more like a voice memo rant than anything else."
"He sounds as unhinged as Andrei," Darcy counters.
"This is a rando rejected client, not your obsessive ex-boyfriend," Genevieve interjects. "Nura's right. Would-be clients who don't make the cut get pissed. Looks like one of them just found a new way to express themselves."
"I'll take that over a one-star App Store review," Borzu adds.
"Shouldn't we at least try to figure out who we're dealing with?" asks Darcy. "It must be someone recent. We need to get to the bottom of this."
"Based on what information? I'm a PI, not a magician," says Genevieve wryly.
"I'll do what I can on the tech side," Borzu says. "But this was so low-budget, he probably got five clicks, if we're being generous. I only found it because of the alerts I set up."
"Even if it gets a hundred listens," I say, "we're talking about a teeny, tiny tide pool. With the way he was raging, he didn't exactly sound credible."
"What is it with guys like this?" Darcy shakes her head. "Do they throw temper tantrums anytime someone says no?"
"Probably," I say. "Remember Kaden Sineway?"
"I want to burn his name from my memory," Genevieve groans. "As if setting off fireworks outside the agency for two days straight because we dared to decline his application was going to change our minds."
"If we sued even one of these assholes, we could scare the others off. That'd tell them we have bark and bite," Darcy says.
I fight back a smile. Darcy dropped out of Duke Law School after her first year. She has just enough legal knowledge to be dangerous. We met five years ago when she was still figuring out her next steps and making ends meet as a barista at the coffee shop next door. We hit it off so well, I made the best decision of my life and asked her to join the agency.
"If we were to go after him—or any of these unhinged people—we'd draw attention to them," I remind her. "We'd amplify their message."
"It's the number-one rule online," says Borzu. "Don't feed the trolls."
This excerpt ends on page 19 of the paperback edition.
Monday we begin the book No Precious Truth by Chris Nickson.
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