“Good luck finding a job in this market.” Brandon sounded bored. “Oh, and don’t forget those noncompetes.”
But Brandon’s horrible smugness faded to background news when a realization hit her like a sledgehammer to the midsection.
“You knew.” She gasped and turned to Jake. “Asking me if I’ve ever done a solo show, wondering if I’d be happier with a later shift. You dropped hints, and I was too stupid to catch on.”
Jake flinched at her furious tone, and suddenly she didn’t want to hear another word from anyone in that room.
Sparing a last glance at Brandon, she ground out, “I’ll do whatever you want me to do, and you can both go to hell.” Then she fled from the room, raced down the hall, and slammed through the front door of the building. Fifteen seconds later, the door crashed open behind her and a strong hand closed around her elbow, pulling her around to the side of the building so they were out of sight of curious onlookers.
As soon as they rounded the corner, she wrenched her arm out of Jake’s grip. “How could you do this?” She didn’t shriek it, but it wasn’t too far down the volume scale.
Jake retracted his hand immediately, and although he spoke through a clenched jaw, his voice was gentle. “I tried to change his mind, but he’s the owner. I’m just the numbers guy, and I don’t even work for Lowell. Mabel, you have to know that I didn’t want this for you.”
But she was thinking back to the conversations she and Jake had shared, those stolen lunch hours that had been the bright spots for her over the past several weeks. The suspicion that had surfaced in the conference room unfurled in her brain. Had he been softening her up for Brandon’s announcement? Lulling her with his jokes and his smiles, sure that she’d happily agree to whatever his boss wanted? The idea curdled in her stomach and soured every happy memory she’d made with him.
“I trusted you! You made me trust you!” She blinked away tears, refusing to cry in his presence. “You touched me. You kissed me. You…” The thought of making herself so vulnerable to someone plotting against her turned her stomach, and she shook her head frantically, wishing she were anywhere but right there.
He spread his hands in front of himself in a helpless gesture, his eyes pleading. “I had to keep his plans confidential. I had no choice. My job requires—”
She laughed bitterly, cutting him off. “You had choices. You could’ve told me. Or better yet, you could’ve stayed away from me, could’ve kept things professional. That news was always going to be devastating for me, but this? Us? This makes it so much worse.”
He started to reach for her, but she sidestepped him and backed away, unwilling to endure his touch when she was hurting so badly.
“Iknewhow bad office relationships are, but I liked you. I fell for you, like an idiot. And now?” She sucked in a deep breath and willed herself to calm down, modulating her voice to mask the pain in her heart. “This is over, Jake. Too bad you didn’t fuck me when you had the chance.” Then she lifted her chin and let him glimpse the cauldron of disgust boiling away in her chest. “Then again, I guess you kind of just did.”
Ignoring his stricken expression, she turned and walked away to fall apart in private.
Fourteen
Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.Jake stood paralyzed behind the radio station, listening as Mabel’s car roared out of the parking lot.
“Fuck!” he roared in frustration, pivoting to slam his fist into the brick wall of the building once, twice, three times. Pain exploded across his knuckles, but he welcomed it. The throb and sting chased away the memory of the loathing he’d seen in Mabel’s eyes before she left. Panic crawled up his spine at how badly this had gone.
He was cradling his hand to his chest, not caring that his torn knuckles were oozing blood onto his favorite suit, when Dave found him a few minutes later. Without a word, he joined Jake in leaning against the sunbaked bricks.
“Any idea where Mabel was headed?” Dave asked without preamble.
His head snapped up. “Listen, man, I am so sorry about—”
Dave cut him off. “Save it. I’m pissed, but not at you.” A beat. “Mostly.”
He nodded in understanding and offered Dave the explanation he’d tried to provide to Mabel. “I wanted to give her a heads-up. Of course I did. But I’m legally bound by the confidentiality clause in my contract, and the Lowell account is huge for us. Which I realize sounds like a bunch of excuses, but…”
“No, I get it,” Dave said. He was as placid as Mabel had been murderous. “You did what you had to do for your job. Nobody can blame you for that.”
“Mabel sure did.” God, why hadn’t he made her listen?
Dave shrugged. “She’s a tiger, that one.” Then he dug into his back pocket and produced a handkerchief, which he handed to Jake. “Do something about your hand, dude. I can’t handle that much blood.”
“Thanks.” He wrapped the clean white cloth around his screaming knuckles, the pain momentarily distracting him from the shitshow of his life. “Why do you have a fucking handkerchief?”
“Because I’m a fucking gentleman,” Dave replied calmly.
Jake laughed weakly and rubbed his uninjured hand over his eyes, then answered Dave’s initial question. “I don’t know where she went, and I was left with the very strong impression that I won’t be privy to that information again. Ever.”
A childish part of him, the part that had briefly hoped Mabel would be understanding about today’s announcement, now longed for Dave to tell him that it was all going to work out. That she’d call him tonight and ask him over for a drink or plan to meet him for lunch the next day so he could apologize and explain.
But Dave didn’t say any of that of course. Because they lived in the real world. Because Jake had let himself be distracted by Mabel. Because this was what he deserved for trying to prioritize something other than work.
