The Business Spy

Friday night, just two hours after Quincy left on her trip, my phone rang. The caller ID showed it was from the airline's Customer Service, so I answered without much thought. "Is this Mr. Matthew Lincoln?" The Customer Service agent spoke politely, "Your wife, Quincy Shawn, purchased two airline accident insurances, and we need you to verify the beneficiary information." Two? I tightened my grip on the phone. Quincy clearly said she was traveling alone on this business trip—so why would she buy two insurances? "Are you sure it's two? Both insurances taken out by Quincy?" I asked again, my chest already sinking. "Yes, Mr. Lincoln. The other insured person is Calvin Jones, who is traveling on the same flight as Ms. Quincy Shawn." When the customer service agent called out the name, a buzz went through my mind. Calvin Jones, the intern Quincy Shawn brought along, had only been at the company for half a month. I opened my laptop and logged into Quincy's usual ticketing app account — we've always shared the password. Sure enough, the order history showed two tickets to Harbor City, with the passengers listed as Quincy Shawn and Calvin Jones. My fingers felt cold as I dialed Quincy's number. The phone rang three times before it was answered. Heavy breathing came through, along with the sound of wind. "Hello? Matthew, what's going on?" Quincy's voice was a little breathless, like she'd been running. "Where are you?" I stared at the flight ticket details on the screen, trying to keep my voice steady. "Running." she laughed, "Just finished a lap, getting ready to go shower." Running? It was drizzling in Harbor City tonight, and the running shoes she specifically packed for the trip were still sitting on the entryway cabinet. I was silent for two seconds on the phone, choosing not to call her out on the lie: "Nothing, just checking if you'd arrived." "Already here, don't worry. I have to go, my phone's about to die." She said hurriedly, then I heard a click on the other end of the line. I stared at the blacked-out screen and gave a bitter smile. Without her, I probably could take better care of myself—at least I wouldn't have to guess at her lies. Quincy Shawn and Calvin Jones—when did it even start between them? That question felt like a thorn stuck deep in my heart. I leaned back on the sofa and started recalling the recent oddities. A week ago, I went to the Marketing Department to deliver signed documents to Quincy. Just as I got to her office door, I saw Calvin coming out, his head down, clutching a folder. Calvin saw me, his eyes suddenly panicked, and his footsteps faltered. I didn't think much of it and even patted him on the shoulder: "Is Ms. Shawn inside? I'm here to deliver a contract." "Y-yes, inside!" His voice trembled a little as he called into the office, "Quincy, Mr. Lincoln is here!" I frowned and scolded him, "Don't shout like that in the office." It only dawned on me later that he was warning Quincy Shawn to hide anything I wasn't supposed to see. And three days ago was Calvin Jones's birthday. During lunch break, everyone celebrated him in the break room, and I saw a luxury watch on his wrist—the latest model this year, worth at least two hundred thousand. With Calvin Jones' salary as a fresh graduate intern, there was no way he could afford that watch. I teased him with a smile, "So, Calvin, is your girlfriend really that generous? That watch isn't cheap." His face instantly went pale, and he lowered his head even more, stammering without a word. I thought he was just embarrassed about being called a "kept man," so I patted his back and said, "It's okay—young people giving gifts in relationships is totally normal." Then I turned to Quincy Shawn and said, "Honey, I've been wearing that watch for three years. I want to upgrade to a luxury watch." She was typing on her computer without looking up: "Why change it? It's just a watch. As long as it tells time, why waste the money?" So it's not that she thought it was too expensive; she just didn't want to spend the money on me.