I draw a sharp breath, clutching the phone so tight my knuckles turn white. “What’s happened? Did some memories come back?”
“No, nothing like that. I wish.”
I breathe a slight sigh of relief. Maybe it’s just cold feet.
“Dammit, I’m heading to your mom’s. There’s something going on. We need to sort this out face-to-face.”
“No, don’t.” Fear laces her words.
“Help me understand what’s happening here.” I’m pleading now, dignity be damned.
A heavy sigh. “Just give me some space, OK? And please don’t make this weird at work. I love my job.”
And then she’s gone. Disconnected. I’m left grappling with silence, my heart pounding a rhythm of frustration and concern.
THIRTY-SIX
Lucy
I trudge into work on Monday physically, mentally, and emotionally drained. I feel like I’ve been on a twenty-four-hour flight from hell.
I plop down at my desk and do what I do best—lose myself in work so I don’t have to think about all the shit in my actual life. Because all that matters is that the high rollers can spend all their money lining Wolfe’s pockets even further. I managed to avoid him all day yesterday. And I’ll admit, I cried. More than once.
I’ll have to confront him eventually but I’m not ready yet.
So engrossed in work, I barely notice Matty arriving and rattling his cereal box like maracas at a goddamn party.
“Hey,” I mutter, only half paying attention.
“Hey, Luce,” he returns loudly, settling in at his desk. “You gotta see this ridiculous thing I stumbled across last night—”
“Matty.” Taylor’s voice slices through his as she lands beside us. “You’re twenty minutes late.”
He gives her a nonchalant look. “Relax. I thought we didn’t punch the clock around here. I put in the hours.”
“Wasting half the day on YouTube isn’t ‘putting in hours,’” she snaps back, her patience clearly waning.
I turn to look at her. Taylor seems particularly irritated today.
Matty leans back, hands behind his head like he owns the place. “I finish by the deadline.”
“Barely,” she hisses.
“Lay off, dude. You might be the project Lead, but you’re not the one signing my paycheck. Only Andy can lecture me about punctuality.” Or lack thereof.
“Fine,” she huffs. “I’ll have Andy do it.”
“Ah, come on,” he protests.
“You compromise the whole project with your minimal effort,” she lectures, towering over my desk and turning it into a war zone.
This is all I need, to be caught in the crossfire of their escalating fight.
“Hey, I work hard,” he argues defensively.
Hmmm. Not sure I’d agree with that one. Matty’s a good User Researcher, and we work well together, but the guy has zero motivation.
“I finished the user research in time for Luce to do the designs; what’s your problem?” he challenges. He turns to me. “Back me up, Luce.”
