“I hate it here, Allie. I’m thinking about quitting, but Yestown’s deal hasn’t gone through yet.”
“They’re still not signed?” Allie asked in disbelief. “What the hell?”
“Sebastien’s sniffing around about Nadie too. I won’t be able to shop her without him knowing about it. At least not in Canada.”
Allie shook her head. “It was a good idea taking those Cowtown chicks Stateside and hiding them from SDM. Sebastien and fucking Tommy are vultures, man.”
“Cowtown?” She shook her head. “I thought they were from Toronto?”
“They live here in Toronto, but they’re from Calgary. The Oh Claires, as in the Eau Claire District in Calgary.”
“Oh!” She laughed. “I’m an idiot. Hey, do you ever think about leaving there?”
“I’m not going to lie, man,” Allie said, “I think about it a lot, but Porter’s a decent enough guy.”
“He looks like a nerdier version of Clark Kent, don’t you think?”
“Totally,” Allie agreed. “I don’t know how you do it? There’s no way I’d work for Sebastard. I’d sooner leave . . . or die. No, I’d kill him first. And Tommy. A double homicide.”
“I mean, I’mgoingto quit.”
“Just do it, man.”
“What do you think about us working together? Management and agency? I’ve already talked to Kim.”
“If I can keep my bands, I’m all in.”
“There’s just one thing . . .” She paused, unsure of Allie’s reaction. “I’m moving back to Winnipeg. But you can stay in Toronto. It’s not a problem.”
“I like Winnipeg.” Allie shrugged.
“You’d consider moving?”
“Why not? It’s too fucking expensive here.” Allie’s eyes became wide. “Kim showed me the pictures of Vegas’s house. It’s fucking insane what you can buy there.”
Tyler nodded. “You’re going to love it, Allie.”
Tyler worked on setting up the Oh Claires’ showcase for the rest of the day. She no longer considered her employment in terms of the separation between church and state. She’d paid for her laptop and phone, so she wasn’t using SDM’s resources except for the office itself and its terrible no-name coffee.
They owed her that much and more.
When the clock struck five, the steam whistle fromThe Flintstonessounded in her head. She almost yelled, “Yabba Dabba Doo!” but didn’t.
“A quick detour, then home,” she told Rory while searching for Cary’s keys in the console of her car where she’d left them. She loved driving her Mustang but was more determined than ever to pay him back. She hated owing anything to anyone and refused to be in his debt.
Minutes later, she pulled into a spot outside Cary’s building, gripping the wheel as she exhaled. Sunlight glinted off the windows, but she lingered, pulse unsteady.
“We’re here,” she said.
Rory smudged the window with his nose and thumped his tail against the seat. There was only one problem: Cary wasn’t home, and she didn’t want to disappoint the miniature panda.
“You stay here,” she said, cracking the window an inch. She grabbed Cary’s suit bag and closed the door while Rory looked at her, bewildered. “Sorry, buddy. I’ll just be a minute!”
A plexiglass sign sat on the concierge’s desk. It readback in 20 minutes.
Not super helpful.
Tyler pressed the elevator button, squinting to read the numbers above the steel doors.That’s strange.One of the elevators was on the twenty-sixth floor—Cary’s floor. She stared at the number, willing it to change as her chest tightened and her heart pounded until her entire body twitched. Was it possible that Cary was home? Was he cheating on her right under her nose? Was he like Dave after all?
