I swallowed. “Are you talking to me?”
“The fuck else would I be talking to?Duh.”
Do not engage, Mason. Ignore him, Mason. Remember why you’re here, Mason.
My head snapped back toward him of its own volition. “I don’t know. To God? To Rachel?To the voices in your head? Just trying tomind my own businessover here.” I noticed he’d pushed his glasses back into place, but I could feel his gaze anyway, cutting through me like a laser. “That’s not how the world works, FYI. People are nice to you when you’re nice to them.Quid pro quo. That’sLatin,” I added smugly. “It means—”
“I know what it means, Loafers.” He darted a glance down at my caramel-colored, Italian leather shoes, and somehow I had the ridiculous urge to cover my feet so he couldn’t see them. “News flash: therealworld doesnotwork like that. Outside ofLoafer Land, people don’t care about pretense and pretty words, they care about who you are and how you treat them when you have nothing to gain from the interaction.”
I gaped. How… incredibly…
“It’snotpretense!” I hissed. “My default isn’trudeness, so I’m not covering anything up! I’m a decent person, so I act like one. Simple as that.”
“A decent person,” he scoffed. “I saw you watching me back there.” He nodded toward carousel six. “All judgy-judgy, looking at me like I’m spoiled milk. Was that you being a decent person?”
“What? I…” I felt my face go hot. “I wasn’t judging you.” My voice lacked conviction. How to explain that I’d been judging the alternate-universe version ofmyself?
“Thought so.” He sounded so self-satisfied that I felt my blood boil with the need to commit violence for the first time since I was seventeen. “For all you know, these are the nicest clothes I have because I give all my money to starving children!” He sighed wistfully. “Pretty sure that makesyouanasshole,Loafers.”
I frowned. “Wait.Doyou give all your money to starving children?”
“Fuck no. Just don’t give a shit about what I’m wearing.” He grinned broadly. “But you didn’tknow that, so you’re still an asshole.”
My brain buzzed, and I had the distant thought that Victoria had been wrong about my ability to feel passion, because I was feeling pretty fucking passionate now.
Though I’d guess this hadn’t been exactly what she was talking about.
“FYI, there’s nothing inherently noble about poverty. And I’ve learned to take pride in my appearance precisely because it shows other people I value them and myself,” I sniffed, giving his flip-flops a scathing look. “It’s a pity others are not so enlightened.”
Serial Killer Guy gave a disturbingly deep chuckle that sounded like it had been startled out of him. “Someone, alert the media!Man in Florida Airport Claims One True Path to Enlightenment Is…” He leaned closer, until I could feel his breath against my face and the only thing keeping me in place was sheer force of will. “Loafers.”
It was not funny. Itwasn’t.
It was also not funny that his breath against my skin sent another very annoying chill down my spine. Stimulus was stimulus, regardless of the source, and I knew that, but I still jerked away like I’d been sprayed with acid. I wasn’t used to reacting that way toanyone, let alone someone as horrible and…male… as Serial Killer Guy.
“How about if you stay on your half of the desk, and I’ll stay on mine?” With the side of my hand, I demonstrated cutting the desk in two and drew an imaginary line across the shiny floor between us. “Let me introduce you to the concept of personal boundaries. This is a wall. You stay over there. Got it?”
The guy’s smirk said he’d achieved exactly the result he’d hoped for: making me react.
Grrr.
But before I could make up my mind to retort, let alone think of something to say, Rachel hung up the phone with abang.
“So,apparentlymy supervisor says we can make an exception for you or whatever. Because JetSet is committed to serving.” She barely repressed a sigh. “Just write down who you need me to page and where you want to meet them.”
“Thank you.Finally,” Serial Killer Guy said, taking the pen and paper Rachel offered, not noticing or caring the way her nostrils flared.
“Sucks,” I said, giving her a small, commiserating smile. “When you don’t have the authority to change things, and then your supervisordoes. Makes you look like you don’t know what you’re doing, when you’re really just upholding the policiestheycreated.”
She gave me a grateful smile. “Yes! Thank you. That’s exactly it.”
Serial Killer Guy finished writing and slid his paper toward Rachel before turning toward me. “Look at you! Loafers McGee, Man of the People. Are you running for office?”
“The wall is soundproof. I hearnothing,” I remarked in a low voice to no one in particular.
Serial Killer Guy snorted.
The swinging door behind the desk opened and a frowning Bertram appeared.
