Well, Shit
Maya Hart has a surprisingly stable life for, well, Maya. She gets up at five thirty am to whatever pop music is blaring on the radio and curses out the fact it’s five thirty am. Then she makes herself shitty coffee in a secondhand pot and eggs when her stove isn’t on the fritz. She hovers in the tiny kitchen of the one bedroom apartment she can afford on her own, a fact she is very proud of. She showers and brushes her teeth and ignores the leaky sink and concerning water stain on the ceiling in her living room. She walks down seven flights of stairs at six forty-five and gets to the subway at seven. At eight, looking semi-professional and impressively awake, she walks into the top-secret headquarters of IDPA, the International Diplomatic Protection Agency, under the fake Johns, Quincy, and Adams Law Firm. She hates the name, everyone at the agency under 45 hates the name but it’s far too late to change it. IDPA has been around for years, and the first shithead who ran it had a thing about presidents. It’s an old and unassuming 4 story brick building. If you go down to the basement level in the rickety elevator you reach Head Quarters. The way HQ is set up is a big circle with reception in the middle and tech slightly raised around the edges. An escalator takes you to weapon storage and Mr. Matthews office. It’s all very Spy Kids.
Maya will never understand how she ended up in such a cliche job. She blames Riley Matthews’ hypnotizing ponytail and Topanga’s determination. She just wanted to be an artist, dammit. Now she’s a spy for an agency that protects high up political people and various others on the ‘really shouldn’t die’ list. For all the bitching and the near-death experiences, it wasn’t bad. She got decent healthcare and dental. Pay was shitty but she got through the month. And oh yeah, she was a goddamn spy. A decent, trusted, ‘go home Buddy I work alone’ spy. Until Matthews blew her solitude out of the water.
The Mackinaw case was supposed to be her big break. Her chance to prove herself to Mr. Matthews and be taken truly seriously as an agent. And yet, here stands her new ‘partner’ (read: deadweight) Lucas Friar, from Texas. Great. Dead weight with an accent. She’d always disliked the South, and here was her karma. Six feet of it, built like a Greek god. She gives Ranger Rick a onceover and sighs. She’s seen his type before. A few years on a high school football team and an overload of testosterone does not mean you’re cut out for field work. Neither does the brown-blonde cropped hair or the weirdly practical clothing. Doesn’t this kid own a tie or something? It’s his first day and he’s dressed like a contractor. Or a lumberjack? Whichever one wears flannel and khakis, she’s never been good at white guy stereotypes. Regardless, he’s hot. Farkle’s gonna have a conniption. Maya doesn’t even want to think about what the girls will do. She has enough to do, she doesn’t need to be running around trying to protect pretty boy from Riley and Smackle and everyone else. She already knows this kid’s gonna be more trouble than he’s worth.
She should really be paying attention to Mr. Matthews, so she tunes back in just in time to hear “Just because his father’s an oldie doesn’t mean you give him any special treatment, right Maya?” She nearly chokes on her own tongue when she puts it together. Ranger Rick’s dad is the Mr. Friar, infamous for the gigantic stick that was apparently permanently lodged up his ass when Mr. Matthews was a young agent? She’s gonna have some fun with this kid. She smirks at the newbie, and nods.
“No special treatment whatsoever, Mr. Matthews.” If she can’t be on her own, she might as well have a little fun. She can see the concern on Mr. Matthews face, but it’s his fault. Should’ve stuck him with Zay, or another joker from the rescue crew. If Mr. Matthews thinks second gen can play with the big kids, Maya was his best bet. They both know it.
“Well, Ranger Rick? You coming?”
“Um, yeah. But my name’s Lucas.” Cowboy looks so confused. He’s gonna be a lot of fun to mess with.
“I heard your name, Sundance. Pick up the pace, we’ve got a lot to see.” She’s speed walking toward the middle of the large room now, toward reception.
Maya’s halfway to Riley’s desk before she turns around to check on the second gen again. He’s stopped a few feet behind her and he’s still got that dumbstruck look on his face, which she appreciates. He’s staring at the room like he can’t believe he’s really there. He’s not so much following Maya as he is wandering aimlessly behind her. She considering yelling at him, or whistling, but it’s his first day. Instead she lets him have the moment and just leans against Riley’s desk.
“How ya doin, honey?” The dark-haired girl turns. The high ponytail she’s corralled her dark glossy hair in to whips around her face. She narrowly avoids losing her balance and straightens her jacket as she smiles glowingly at Maya. Maya has decided that Riley’s smile could end wars and cure diseases. The way her eyes lit up could power the whole New York City. Her stern looks could send even the most stone faced killer sheepishly into confession. Maya swears Riley’s made of hope and magic and love all bottled up under sensible pencil skirts and fun colored blouses. She’s daydreaming again, and Riley’s talking. Crap.
“-and I TOLD Farkle he wasn’t serious but you know Farkle when it comes to the rescue crew. He was all ‘no they really are going to kill me this time’ and I was all ‘they can’t kill you, no one knows how to work the filing system but you’! Anyway, how are you, peaches?” She was beaming obliviously at Maya. Maya sighs.
“I’ve been better. You know the Mackinaw case?”
“Your first big solo case? How could I forget!”
“Yeah, well, scratch the solo off that. Boss man’s wrangled me with a partner. A newbie.”
“What?! How could he? He knew how important that case was to you! I oughta, well I oughta-” Riley’s outrage makes her laugh.
“Don’t go killing Matthews over one case. I’m disappointed, but newbie seems like he’ll be fun to mess with.” Maya remembers she kinda abandoned him and turns around. And sighs. Because next to Sundance, of course, Farkle has materialized. Goddamn Minkus is just staring at Hopalong like he’s the best thing since sliced bread. She’s never seen anyone look quite so confused as newbie in that moment. And Maya is gonna have to go save him, isn’t she.
She tells Riley she’ll be right back, and saunters over to the boys. “Are you playing nice, Farkle? This is newbie, he’s my new ‘partner’ for a while.” She puts a sarcastic emphasis on partner because she’s still pretty bitter about second gen just getting dropped on her. Sue her.
“My name is Lucas. Lucas Friar.” He looks slightly exasperated at the fact has to correct her, but she sees the relief winning out. He extends a hand to Farkle, who appears to be measuring him with his eyes and writing it down on a chart. The hand in his face startles him, and he nearly drops the chart.
“Yes, of course. Lucas, Mr. Friar’s son. Mr. Matthews mentioned you were coming. Pleasure to meet you. I’m Farkle Minkus, head of the technical intelligence department. You’ll come see me to get fitted with some of the more complicated gadgets and surveillance equipment.” He said all of this while rapidly, while vigorously shaking hands. He looked like he was trying to shake the other boy’s arm arm off.
“Dude, slow down, his puny human brain might explode. Not everyone’s a supergenius like you. I’ll send him over when debriefing is done.” She shoos a still talking Farkle away, and turns to second gen. “So that was Farkle.”
“I don’t want to be rude, but how old is he? He just looks so-”
“Young? Yeah. He’s 24, same as me, but he graduated college at like 17. So he’s pretty much in charge around here. Don’t mention the age thing to him though, he might actually kill you, cowboy. Anyway, come here. We’ll get you your very own spy stuff later. No cowboy hats, though.”
“The hats never suited me much anyway, ma’am. I much prefer the boots. More practical in a fight. Texans appreciate a pointy boot.” He gestured at the heeled boots she’d worn that day. Maya was surprised. A, that this kid could talk, and B, that he was bantering. Politely. He was gonna be a little harder to break than she thought.
“Yeah, well, I doubt Matthews’ will let you have the boots either. They’d make more noise than you already are, you lumbering giant. People would hear you from a mile away.”
“I didn’t realize I was so disruptive. I’ll try harder, pardner.”
“Good. Now, c’mon, we’ve got a lot to do.” Maya was seething a little, she could not get a rise out of this kid. Normally this was how she got them out of her hair. She just annoyed them away. Her personal best was 4 hours; Zay was pathetic. But whatever. She needed to get this set up so she could ship him off to get hit on by Farkle, if he’d regained the ability to speak by then. She returned to Riley’s desk, dragging Sundance by the collar. “Riley? I’ve got newbie here, can you get him in the system?”
Riley was typing away when they walked up, eyes glued to the screen. “That kid who took your big solo case? I’ll tell you what I can set him up with- hiiiiiiiiiiiiii.” Of course the dork looked up mid sentence and saw Huckleberry Finn, smiling like a dope. Maya felt jealousy shoot through her heart like a sliver of ice. Nope, this was her Riley. Greek God got no claim over her.
“Honey? The paperwork? We really need to get up to Mr. Matthews. Mission. Important.” Riley looked away from the second gen to smile at Maya. Maya felt every muscle in her body relax. They were back in her territory, RileyandMaya territory.
“Yeah Peaches, coming right up. We’ll have you on your way in no time, Agent?”
“Friar. Lucas Friar, and you are?”
“Riley Matthews. I’m Maya’s secretary. Well, I’m anyone’s secretary, but Maya kinda claimed me when she first got here, so no one else really has me help much. Because everyone's kinda scared of Maya because this one time she almost killed Zay- Here are your papers. Anyway, Zay made this kinda ignorant comment, totally innocent, he just worded it incorrectly-”
“Riley, sweetie. You’re rambling. Tell Hopalong all my scary stories after he’s all set.” Riley smiles sheepishly. She gestures for them to leave, stuttering out apologies. Maya’s about to follow Sundance, apparently en route to the elevator, when Riley calls her back.
“I know Mackinaw means Europe so you’re going to be away, so I got you something.” Riley is blushing, and it’s the cutest thing. She hands her a jewelry box. Maya opens it to find a ring. It’s nothing special, a simple gold band with a little black floral inlay, but as she pulls it from it’s place in the box she sees the engraving. It reads 'til the end' on the inside of the ring.
“Riley this is too much. Really, you didn’t have to get me anything. Thank you.” Riley’s smile is the size of Alaska as she dramatically reveals her hand, sporting a matching ring. Maya slips it off her finger to see the engraving. Hers reads 'my best friend' and the context clicks in Maya’s head. “Are these from the song I wrote you last year?” Maya, strapped for cash and wanting her present to be special, had written Riley a song for her birthday. She had figured the girl had forgotten it in the 8 months since then, but seeing the rings had almost made her cry.
“Of course they are. I figured we could both use a reminder of a good time. Do you like it?”
“Like it? Are you crazy? It’s the best and most thoughtful thing anyone’s ever done for me. I love it, Sunshine.” Maya pauses to breathe and blink back her emotions. She had a meeting to go to, dammit. And a reputation to uphold. “I’ll talk you you later honey, I’ve gotta go get debriefed.” Maya hugs Riley and everything’s perfect and she never wants to let go. But she does and she waves goodbye. As she approaches the elevators she sees Zay has cornered Lucas. He turns to her as she stalks toward them.
“So, when’s the wedding, Peaches?” She might kill him, one of these days. Deep breath Hart. She reminds herself, Matthews won’t look kindly on murder. He doesn’t really mean anything by it, he’s a shit but a harmless one. That doesn’t mean she won’t kill him. But she doesn’t have time now.
“Fuck off, Zay.” is her only reply. “Well Hopalong? We’ve got criminals to catch. Hurry your ass up.” She collapses against the wall of the elevator with a huff, completely ignoring Huckleberry, who looks even more confused than before. The clock above the doors reads 9:07. This is gonna be one fucking long day.