It was that he washere. In my space. The very space I had to run to because he’d made sure no one else would have me.
I couldn’t even claim this little slice of the universe as my own anymore. Now I had to share it withhim.
So no. I wasn’t okay. But I had to be.
After all, I was not going to let Lloyd Exeter ruin my fucking career. Again.
My voice cracked when I answered, “Yeah.”
So much for strength and resolve.
Carefully, Clara placed a hand on my shoulder. Her eyes were so full of empathy; they swam with the understanding we shared. So many memories of what Lloyd had done to me, of the person he’d turned me into.
“You know what I like to do at times like this?” she asked.
“No.”
Her lips curled. “Drink.”
7
Cock-tails and French 69s
Clara loved team building.
“Drinks on me, everyone!”
She did it in many, many ways—resort getaways in the Dominican Republic and Hilton Head, afternoon sundae bars, excursions to bowling or rage rooms—but this was her favorite: putting her credit card down at a bar and inviting the entire company (yes, all thirty of us plus custodial and security) for “sips and snacks” on her.
The last thing I needed was a drink. I’d had an emotional roller coaster of a weekend topped off with a second, weirder roller coaster this morning, so it would have been safer all around if I had clocked out, gone home, and tried to catch up on some work.Alone.
However, unappealing as the thought of drinking or socializing was, I dutifully took an Uber with Clara to Josie’s, her favorite spot in town. Drinking might have been a distraction from work—yikes—but at least it would also be a distraction from thoughts of Lloyd and Hudson.
With its low lighting, slightly warped wall-mounted TVscreens, and bottomless chips and salsa, Josie’s was a run-of-the-mill Tex-Mex joint with a solid tequila library. Usually, a fun spot. But, of course, my most annoying coworker couldn’t leave me in peace.
“Whoa, look who it is! Boss lady’s in the house!”
“Hi, Jared.”
At the bar, waiting for my second watermelon margarita, I didn’t even turn to acknowledge him—just caught him in the already hazy corners of my vision. He sidled up beside me anyway. After our encounter this morning, I had gone out of my way to make sure our paths didn’t cross again, but he never missed out on free drinks or free food. Our meeting here was inevitable.
I glanced toward the hallway where Clara had disappeared ten minutes ago with some well-dressed silver fox she’d found drinking alone at a corner table. Damn her. Getting someandabandoning me.
“Good to finally see you at one of these little office hangs. Tell the truth: You just came because your boyfriend’s coming.”
I offered one of those halfhearted smiles women do when they want men to leave them alone. “Don’t have a boyfriend, Jared.”
“You know what I mean!”
The waitress brought my watermelon margarita; Jared ordered a tequila shot for each of us.
Normally, I wasn’t alet’s shoot tequilagirl. Given the extenuating circumstances, however, I downed mine the second it was put in front of me.
“Unless you’re saving yourself,” Jared mused. “For me, right? You’re saving yourself for me? Just waiting for the right boozy opportunity to strike? C’mon, Scout. You don’t need any liquid courage where I’m concerned. I’m a sure thing.”
The worst thing about Jared—an achievement considering his docket of faults—was that he genuinely didn’t see anything wrong with what he’d said. He wasalways“just joking.”
I mumbled about needing the restroom, then disappeared for some peace and quiet. However, no sooner had I set myself up in front of the bathroom mirror than Addie appeared behind me.
