“It’s not. We both know that.” If working full-time hours while studying doesn’t show my motivation to The Barkhouse, then my oft-expressed desire to move up their ranks once I’ve got my degree should. “Joe only has me working here until I’m out of school. We’ve already discussed my future. I don’t understand why you’re putting me under a microscope.”
Dylan scoffs and chuckles at my attempt to stand up for myself.
“See, I’m not so sure about that.” He waggles a finger in my direction. “You’re not much of a team player. Haven’t been since the day you first walked in here. I’m not sure you’re cut out for the big house, when you couldn’t handle the file room…” He trails off, allowing sinister implications to do the heavy lifting in his threat.
Fuck. I knew it. Dylan’s Mr. Nice Guy bullshit was just an act. There is no sincerity behind any invitation or opportunity. He has been biding his time for an ideal opportunity to strike, and a better one won’t come, than having layoffs on the horizon.
The worst part is, there isn’t a clear path out of this. Standing up for myself or pushing him away will guarantee I lose this job.
“If this is about tomorrow, I genuinely can’t extend an invite.” It’s definitely about a lot more than just tomorrow, but I have to say something.
The longer we stand here, the more I feel as if the walls are starting to close in around me. It’s reaching a point where I can’t breathe properly, and I’m afraid of what Dylan will do, if my answers are not to his satisfaction.
“Then we won’t do tomorrow, but there’s no reason you haven’t and can’t come to one of my shows.” He lets out a dejected sigh.
“Your shows?” I clench my jaw so tightly, my gums start aching. “How does that have anything to do with my job?”
“It doesn’t. But sometimes you’ve gotta take one for the team, Lil. Show me you can do that, and I’ll put in a good word for you with the man upstairs.” He pushes off the wall and slaps his hands together, signifying we’re done here.
He turns around and takes a step toward the door.
In a foolish act of defiance, I ask, “And if I don’t?”
The answer is obvious, but I want to hear him say the words. What I’ll do with them is anyone’s guess.
“I’ll look forward to meeting your replacement.” He stops dead in his tracks. He doesn’t take the time to look at me, merely allowing his presence to carry the weight and severity of his words.
Guess that settles it then. I’ll be joining him at the Rusty Hook after all.
He exits and I follow close behind, wondering if this job is actually worth it. Of course it is, I remind myself.Without a job, I’ll be more reliant on Mom, and that’s a weight I can’t endure right now.
The parking lot is empty when I get to my car. Hell, the whole street looks abandoned. That’s a first. Usually, it doesn’t matter what time of day or where you are in Midnite City, there’s always a crowd floating around. But I welcome the quiet. I think I need it after what just happened.
I slide into the driver’s seat but don’t start the engine. I just sit. Staring between The Barkhouse walls and my rearview mirror.
Keep it together, Lilith. You’ve got this.
I don’t actually believe that. My life is spiraling out of control and everyone in it doesn’t seem to care.
But, just as I want to break down and have a good, long cry before I return to the Crawford mansion, someone taps on my window. The sound startles me so badly, I jump so high that on landing, the whole car shakes beneath me.
I expect to see Dylan standing out there, with another demand concerning how I can be a good employee. Instead, I see a familiar face I can’t quite place, bent forward to meet me at eye level.
I crack the window, not letting it slide down too far.
“Yes?” I put on my most courteous voice, on the off chance this is a cop. “How can I help you?”
“Lilith Whittaker?” he says. “My name is Raymond Lincoln, and I believe you.”
Caught off guard, I frown at the man outside my window. “Excuse me?”
“Tom Henderson. He wasn’t abducted,” he says, matter-of-factly. “Alistair Crawford had him killed.”
Chapter Seventeen
Colter
Iwatch Lilith traipse through our garden, from my bedroom window. She is drifting aimlessly in a rigid, stiff manner. She just arrived home from work, and I guess she wants to refresh herself with an early evening swim.
