He barked out alaugh. “I’m just kidding, honey. Enjoy your weekend. We’ll hit it hard again onMonday.”
I tried to smile,but it wobbled and fell flat. “Sounds good.”
He winked at me.“But I want those graphics before you leave today. Can you handle that?”
Nodding confidentlyif for no other reason than to just get him out of here, I said, “Absolutely.Seriously, they just need finishing touches.”
He straightened,pointed a finger gun at me and said, “You’re a gem, Molly.”
I breathed out atthe use of my actual name. It was refreshing to hear it after a week of honeysand doll faces and every other sickly-sweet moniker used only on females.
And I just wantedto make a note that I was not the kind of feminist that saw a man and rippedoff her bra so she could burn it in effigy. I was more the laidback,equality means equal kind of twenty-first centurygirl. Hell yes, there should be equal pay. But I also acknowledged that lots ofwomen chose not to enter the workplace at all because they’d rather raise afamily. Good for them. We lived in a society where both kinds of women werecelebrated and cherished and supported. And it was beautiful.
However, could weall just take a second to acknowledge the kind of backlash I would get if thenext time Henry Tucker asked me to do something, I winked at him and declared,“You got it, champ.” Or “Bucko.” Or maybe, possibly, affectionately,“Dickhead.”
I glanced at TuckerSenior’s door and imagined him calling security to escort me out of the buildingfor picking on his number one son.
My computer dingedand another email from Ezra popped up.
From [email protected]
Date: February 23, 2017 16:49:44 EST
Subject: You’re hilarious…
If you even think about bringing a bird intoLilou, so help me God, Maverick…
I found myselfsmiling at the computer screen. I pictured his eyebrows furrowed with fear, hismouth pressed into a firm frown. I imagined his long, elegant fingers tappingout a furious reply.
I might not likeEzra Baptiste as a human, but I seriously liked messing with him.
Dismissing the ideaof sending another return email, I got to work on the graphics I promisedHenry. I waited to send them until I had all of my things packed up for the day.I put my purse on my shoulder, sent the file, shut down my computer, and thenbolted from the office without even saying goodbye to Emily.
I didn’t want torisk running into Henry again. I was officially off the clock.
Swinging by my apartmentto grab the four centerpieces took longer than I wanted it to, but eventually Imade it toLilouand was able to balance all four ofthem in a precarious stack from cradled forearms to perched chin.
The hostess hurriedto open the door for me and I squeezed between her and the frame, just barelymanaging to hold on to the spice racks.
“Can I help you?”the college-age girl dressed all in black asked.
“I just need todrop these off,” I told her. “They’re for a party tomorrow night.”
She stared at meblankly. “Is someone expecting you?”
“Yes,” I told herwhile eying the host stand and wishing Ezra had given me more explicitinstructions.
“Who?” the hostesswith the most-essasked bluntly.
“Ezra, Wyatt, mostof your kitchen staff.”
Her eyebrows liftedin surprise. “I’ll find Mr. Baptiste,” she offered.
“No, that’s okay—”But she was already gone. Belatedly, I realized I should have asked for thefloor manager. Now I would have to deal with Ezra.
So help me God, Maverick...
