My morning goes by pretty quickly, most of my paperwork completed, leaving only a small amount to do after the winner of Suit Up Day is revealed.
Sitting in the lounge next to Ryan, who seems lost in his own world as he taps away at his laptop keyboard, I sip my raspberry-flavored iced tea and run a hand through my hair, glad to be rid of the hat. The sunglasses, however, have remained all morning despite the funny looks everyone keeps sending me.
“You look weirder with the glasses on than off, Mads. I’m sure it’s not that bad,” Zeke, one-third of my team, tries to assure me, staring at my sunglasses as though they’re a bug he wants to be rid of.
Rolling my eyes, glad he can’t actually see it, I mutter, “They’re staying on. Trust me, the concealer and foundation have not foundationed nor concealed. You can still see the bruise through it, and I’d rather not suffer an inquisition at work.”
Zeke offers nothing more than a long-suffering sigh, the sassy bastard’s attitude worse than Henley’s, AJ’s, and Zelda’s combined, and I hide my smile behind the plastic to-go cup at his usual brand of dramatics.
“Foundationed isn’t even a word, but fine. You look like a goofball wearing them indoors, that’s all I’m saying, but you do you, queen,” he grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest like a kid who didn’t get his own way.
I raise an eyebrow, sure he sees that over the rim of my glasses, and correct him. “You’ve said a whole lot of things since I came in this morning. Why bother stopping now?”
He gives me a dry look, and I flash him a grin, disarming him enough that he looks away instead of continuing whatever the hell is happening. “Just looking out for you.”
“Liar,” I accuse quickly, still smiling. “You just want to see how bad it is.”
Zeke, falsely affronted, throws his hands in the air and huffs, “Is that really something you’d think I’d do?”
I’m already nodding, answering him before he finishes his question, and the sassy man slumps in his chair. It genuinely looks as though he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar, and I can’t help but laugh at the guy.
“Why won’t you just show me? It surely can’t be that bad,” Zeke complains for the fifth time today, and I laugh loud enough that it draws the attention of several staff members quietly chatting among themselves. “You showed Jolie. Why can’t I see what disaster you’ve made of yourself?”
“I didn’t mean to show her, but accidents happen,” I counter, shrugging. “She walked into the restroom while I was wiping the mascara smudges under my eye and caught my face in the mirror.”
“So, what you’re saying is, I need to walk into the women’s restroom to catch an eyeful?” Zeke asks, sounding much too hopeful about the idea.
Again, I find myself shaking my head, a little more rapidly than before.
Before I can even list the reasons why that would be considered wrong on all levels, he huffs petulantly and gripes, “Oh, come on! I’m practically one of the girls as it is. I have a boyfriend. I like makeup. I dress pretty.”
He gestures to himself, showing off his Jack Skellington-style suit as though that’s grounds for his argument. It’s not, but I’ll allow it, because he does look pretty cute. As it is, hedoes usually dress really well, with daily loose-fit slacks, tailored shirts, and sweaters.
“All I’m missing is the equipment you have,” he continues, throwing a careless hand toward me, and I almost choke on the next sip of my drink. “Not that I want a pair of tits and a coochie, because I actually enjoy walking around shirtless sometimes, and possessing the ability to pee standing up brings me more joy now that I know how much it makes you jealous.”
“What is even happening right now?” I hear faintly from beside me, and it’s then I remember my neighbor seated beside me.
Turning my head sharply to the handsome man beside me, I remove the straw from my mouth and flash him a grin. “Welcome back to the world of the living. You were pretty absorbed with whatever you’re doing there.”
Ryan turns a little sheepish, an endearing look on the put-together, polished man, and I feel my belly swoop as I fight a goofy swoon. “Sorry, the stock market opened, so I’ve been a little busy with investments.”
I swat a hand toward him. “It’s fine. The conversation you’ve happened to zone back into isn’t all that important anyway.”
“I beg to differ,” Zeke argues, right before the sass-master ignores me entirely and focuses on the man beside me. “Tell me, have you seen this infamous bruise that covers a quarter of my boss’s face?”
My head turns quickly to face Ryan and my eyes widen in warning, still hidden behind my sunglasses. Yet, I’m still hoping he can read my expression despite how short a time we’ve known one another, because I know Zeke will catch the movement if I try to subtly shake my head.
The universe must be looking down on me today with pity and guilt, having shafted me the day prior, because Ryanpeers back at me for all of five seconds before he squints and slowly begins to shake his head cautiously. I could kiss him when he looks back at Zeke, an expression I would argue is the epitome of innocence on his face, and shakes his head with a little more confidence. “No. I thought the glasses were a fashion choice and didn’t question it. Why? What bruises?”
Shoulders relaxing, I scribble a note in my mind that Ryan could definitely be someone who would help me cover a murder without me ever having to ask, and store it away for possible future homicides. Outwardly, I relax into my seat and answer before Zeke can. “It’s nothing. Just had an accident and have a mark on my face that this persistent shitheel keeps harassing me about.”
Zeke sends me a sarcastic smile.
I flip him the bird.
Ryan, bless his heart, looks at us both like a spectator at a tennis match, likely confused about the relationship between me and Zeke. I don’t bother explaining, though, because to do that I would have to go in-depth into how Zeke and I met, and that would mean dragging up countless memories of us both competing to win a photography competition we both lost. The wound is still tender on that front, so I leave it alone. Best to keep away from such things in order to let them heal properly, right?
Instead, I jerk a foot at my assistant and friend, asking, “Anyway, shouldn’t you be working?”
