Chapter Eighteen
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December 23rd
Evans
This is it. The moment of truth. My palms are sweating, and I’ve got this jittery feeling all over. Like I might shake so hard or for so long I’d vibrate right out of my clothes and that would be super embarrassing. Because this needs to be harder. Jesus. I wish I’d remembered to bring extra clothes in because I might sweat right through these. At least there are a couple of showers. I could take a shower. And then what? Put on my sweaty disgusting clothes?
The jittery feeling has somehow coalesced into the very real possibility of vomiting and my sweat has gone cold. I’m so not cut out for this. But I can dig up that guy. I can do this for myself and for Lucy. I can. I will. Because we both deserve more.
It’s lunchtime, and Lucy’s gone a couple of blocks over to pick up some sushi for us. Which means I don’t have long to set my plan into motion so I need to man up and get on with it.
I wrap my fingers into fists and then knock on India’s door. There’s a muffled “come in” instead of a yell, which is a good sign, probably. It means she’s working but not pissed off. Yet.
When I step over the threshold, she’s staring at the screen in front of her, completely intent. What I wouldn’t do for a fraction of her focus. But I guess there are trade-offs. I clear my throat because she might be so absorbed in whatever she’s looking at that she forgot between when she invited me inside and when I got here that there was anyone coming to talk to her.
She blinks up at me, her eyes coming into focus, and she wrinkles her nose. “What the hell happened to you, Evans? You look like you pulled your clothes out of a dryer that wasn’t done yet.”
Ouch. Well, probably true. I don’t have that ability she and Lucy have to look put together all the time. And today is worse than usual because, for the past hour or so, I haven’t been able to stop…tugging at things. Everything feels like it’s too close to my skin, as if it might choke me, but I’m grateful because the butterflies haven’t managed to burst out yet.
“Yeah, well, I’m uh, I’m…” Terrified. “I need to talk to you.”
I try to put on that guy, the one who gets a person having a panic attack onto an airplane, the one who can run meetings, and the one who can boss a girl like Lucy around because it gets both of us off to play that way. India responds to boldness. That’s what Rey said. And that guy knows what he’s talking about.
India lifts her hands away from her keyboard and mouse and sits back in her chair. Apparently I have her attention.
“What’s up?”
“Lucy and I have been…” Fornicating like rabbits. “…seeing each other. For about a week now. And I understand that’s in violation of the fraternization policy. We honestly meant no disrespect to you or the company and we didn’t think this was going to happen, but it has.” And if I’m exceedingly lucky, it will keep happening. “And I don’t want it to stop. But I don’t want to get Lucy in any trouble, either. It was my fault, I started it, and I’ll hand in my resignation right now. But don’t… It’s not her fault.”
India’s staring at me with this cool, calculating gaze, and something inside me withers. She’s totally going to fire me. I’d half-hoped this wouldn’t be a big deal. I mean, it’s not as though I’m Lucy’s boss or she’s mine, so neither one of us has any influence over each other’s promotions or pay. We’re both at India’s mercy. Which is vomit-inducingly apparent as I stand here waiting for her to tell me to pack up my office and leave. I should’ve known. India’s big on rules. Fuck. Fuck.
I was going to tell my mom I couldn’t help out with Darren as much anymore, but I wanted it to be a choice, not because I’d lost my job and I’m going to end up living out of my car somewhere. Is it possible to choke on your own breath? Because that might be happening.
“Evans.” My name is this snapped-out word and it turns my stomach.
“Yeah?”
“I’m not going to fire you. And I’m not going to fire Lucy.”
“You’re not?”
“No. Are you kidding me? I’d be totally fucked without the two of you. Not to mention, what the hell are you even talking about?”
“It says in the employee handbook. Fraternization between JVA employees is strictly prohibited.”
“Do you work for JVA?”
A bomb goes off in the back of my brain and the bricks of my skull crumble because all I can think is probably not anymore, but then the light shines through the dust and the rubble. She already said we’re not getting fired, and India’s not one for rhetorical questions—too pointless to take up her valuable time—so I guess I should answer.
“Uh… No. No, I guess I don’t.”
“Who do you work for, Evans?”
“You. I work for you. I mean, BCG.”
“And I’m telling you, as the founding partner of BCG, that I don’t give a rat’s ass if you and Lucy are dating or whatever it is you’re doing. As long as you’re not sneaking off to bang in the copy room in the middle of the day, I don’t care.”
She’s turned her attention back to whatever was on her monitor and leaned forward again. It’s a good thing because my face might be lighting up scarlet. Because while it wasn’t in the middle of the day… Shit. Must not get a hard-on while I’m talking to my boss.
“You don’t care.” Relief should be hitting me like a smack in the face, but instead it’s slowly trickling through my system, the jittery feeling subsiding one butterfly at a time. “But if you don’t care, why is it—”
She glares at me over her screen. She’s clearly moved on and feels like I’m trying to steer her in a direction she doesn’t want to go. Bad idea.
“Because I’ve been a little busy and I haven’t had time to amend all the damn policies in the employee handbook, that’s why.” Then she mutters something about fucking horndog Jack not being able to keep that shit in his pants. I think. “Anything else?”
I know I promised Lucy I wouldn’t tell India about this and it’s possible I’m shooting myself in the foot here because who knows what’ll happen, but India can be a reasonable person. And when it comes to Lucy, despite how hard India can be on her, she does appreciate everything Lucy does and she wouldn’t want to lose her if she can help it. She said she’d be fucked if we left.
“Lucy didn’t want me to tell you this…”
India’s eyes narrow, and I swallow. No surprise India doesn’t like tattle tales. But this isn’t that. Not really.
“She got a job offer. One she’s thinking about accepting. And I didn’t want her to leave without you having a chance to make a counteroffer. Because I think if you do, she’ll stay. I’d like to her to stay, and I think you’d prefer that as well.”
“Do you know where this job is?”
“Yes.”
My stomach liquefies because India does withering glares like no one’s business.
“And are you going to share?”
“I don’t know if I should.”
“You’ve already spilled the beans, Evans. What’s it going to matter if you spill a few more?”
I guess, but Greg is a client. A good one. I don’t want to lose that business if India decides to be personally offended by this. She interrupts my mulling with a loud huff. “Fine. Just tell me it’s not Will Donovan. That guy’s the worst, and I wouldn’t want Lucy to work for him if he were the last asshole on earth.”
Oh. She was worried about Lucy ending up somewhere with a terrible boss? And India’s a savvy businesswoman. She’s not going to let personal irritation get in the way of a longstanding and lucrative contract. Plus, she and Greg get along like a house on fire. “No, it’s not Will Donovan. It’s Greg Wu.”
“That bastard.” She shakes her head. “I thought he’d been sniffing around her. What kind of job?”
Well, I’m all in now so I might as well. “Office manager.”
“Lucy would be good at that. I mean, she is good at that. So she’s
going to Phoenix, huh?”
“I don’t think she desperately wants to go. I think she’d rather stay here, but…”
“But what?”
She’s got that greedy, game-playing look in her eye, and in that second, I know Lucy’s not going anywhere. Not if India can help it, and no one in their right mind would mess with India Burke when she wants something. So I’m going to get Lucy everything I can.
“It’s a better title and more money.” Okay, so that’s a white lie. I don’t know if it’s more money, but even if it’s not, the cost of living in Phoenix has got to be lower than San Diego.
“That’s it?”
Is there anything else Lucy would want? Anything I can bargain for without India totally calling my bluff and having this house of cards come crashing down and leaving me with nothing but a super painful papercut?
“If you do that and give her Leo’s office when he retires, I can almost guarantee she’ll stay.”
“Almost?” Yeah, India wants a sure thing. She doesn’t like uncertainty.
“She’s a grown woman. I don’t know everything that goes on in her head.” Though I wish I did.
India looks pissed for a second, probably because my tone was somewhat less than respectful, but then she laughs. “All right, Evans. I’ll see what I can do. You know Leo’s office was going to be yours, right?”
Wings spring from my heart and flap around. That’s the office Jack moved India into when it became clear she was going to succeed him, that she was the person he trusted most. And she was going to give it to me? Might still if Lucy leaves despite my meddling.
“Lucy will appreciate it more than I will. I don’t need my own bathroom. Honestly, knowing that is enough for me. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. You produce quality product, and I appreciate all the sacrifices you make for your work. I know I’m not awesome at conveying that, but you should know you are the best associate I have and not by a little bit. You keep working on your chutzpah and maybe someday you’ll be moving into my office.”
It’s a silly thing for her to say for a bunch of reasons, including that India’s about as WASP-y as they come. Also, I’m actually older than she is and I can’t imagine India ever retiring anyhow, not to mention I don’t want her job. I do think we make a good team, though. “Well, I’m not going to be staging a coup anytime soon, but thank you.”
“You’re welcome. And as much as I’ve enjoyed our chat, do you remember how I said I was busy? Still true, so could you stop badgering me and get back to work?”
“Yeah, sure, of course, Ms. Burke.” I start to head out, but since India seems to be in a generous mood, I’m going to push the envelope further. “Actually, could I ask you for a favor? Not for me. Lucy’s been bummed about not being able to go home for Christmas and I wanted to do something nice for her. I need your help.”
Her expression softens, and she lets out a soft sigh. In her own weird way, India deeply cares about Lucy. Maybe more than she’d like to admit. “For Lucy?”
“Yeah.”
“All right. Spit it out, Evans, I haven’t got all day.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
*
Evans
I take a break in the middle of the afternoon, telling India and Lucy that if I don’t get out of the building for a couple of hours I might go stark-raving mad, and I volunteer to pick up pizza from the good place that has slow delivery on my way back. India says Cris will have picked her up by then, but Lucy asks for the chicken, caramelized pear, and walnuts, which sounds amazing.
Before I can go get that, though, I have a few stops. The first is at the best thrift shop in town, which is thankfully still open today. There’s a display in the big front window with all kinds of weird-looking lawn ornaments and other holiday decorations. I never paid a whole lot of attention to Christmas since my family’s nominally Jewish and honestly doesn’t care about holidays at all, but you’ve got to hand it to this holiday for décor.
I rummage through the men’s clothing, searching for the perfect item. “Ah-ha!”
An older woman who’s been sifting through a bin of shoes glances over at me with a frown before going about her business.
“Sorry, sorry.” Then I march up to the checkout where a bored teenager is snapping her gum while twirling a lock of bleach-blond hair around one finger.
“Can I help you?”
“Yeah, I’ll take this and everything in the front window. And if you’ve got more Christmas lights somewhere, I’ll take those too.”
Her eyes bulge behind her hipster glasses. “Are you sure? Because we’ve got a lot of Christmas lights.”
“Yep. I want every single one.”
Which I’m regretting now while trying to shove them all into my car. Maybe I’ll get a new car. One I don’t have to worry about getting blown off the road every time a truck drives by or the breeze picks up. I don’t need anything super fancy, although I wouldn’t mind picking Lucy up in some swanky car. Or finding some not so-secluded spot to have sex in said car. But baby steps. Maybe an Altima would be nice.
But if I want a new car, there’s something I have to do first. After I’ve thrown my laundry into the basket I’ll deal with in a few days and get together a few things—including enough clothes to last me until the twenty-sixth when we’ll be done with this stupid thing, whether it’s good or not—I sit down on my sad excuse for a couch.
My brother’s at PT this afternoon. I know because my mom called last night to make me feel guilty for not being able to bring him in for his appointment. So when I call, I know I won’t be hearing Darren in the background and she won’t be able to make excuses about not being able to talk.
I hear the click as my mom picks up the phone and the drone of a talk show or a soap opera in the background.
“Chuck? What are you doing calling this time of day?”
“Hi, Mom. I wanted to talk to you about Darren.”
“Well, I already brought him to his appointment. There’s not really anything for you to do today, but he has to come again next week and I’d so appreciate the help. It’s just so much, you know? Trying to keep track of all his needs and shuttling him around and—”
I resist the sinking feeling inside and try to locate that guy again. The guy who stands up to people, who can get things done, who isn’t afraid to ask for what he wants. Well, okay. Maybe the bejesus is scared out of him, but he still goes ahead and does it anyway. Because isn’t that braver? Not the absence of fear, but going ahead and doing something even if it does scare you? It doesn’t matter. I don’t need to be brave. I just need to stand up for myself.
“Uh, no. That’s not it. I wanted to say I’m not going to be able to help out as much financially anymore. I’ll still contribute because I love Darren and I love you, but there’s only so much I can do. And if I keep paying for you to live your life, then I’m never going to be able to live my own. I’ve tried to help you find resources to give you more flexibility and more time, to try to take some of the burden off your shoulders because I know it’s hard. But you don’t listen to me and I’m tired of being punished for choices I don’t make.”
My mom stutters on the other side, probably because she’s so used to being the one who makes speeches and she hasn’t heard that many words come out of my mouth in one go since I was a kid. Maybe not even then.
“I’ve put together a bunch of options for Darren’s housing and his care and I mailed you a whole packet. I’m happy to spend time with you and Dad and Darren to figure out what’s best for all of us. But that’s going to have to wait for a couple of weeks while I get this project under control at work.”
I think of Lucy staying up all night putting together all that information for my brother. I wish she’d handed it to me so I could see her lovely blush and her sweet smile, and our fingers would have brushed and then it would have been all over. Because it’s never just a touch with Lucy. I always want more of her.
I’ve had
my hands, my mouth on every single inch of her body, and it’s still not enough. I don’t know if it’ll ever be enough, but I’m willing to find out. I want to see her in my bed, want to see her deliciously round ass as she walks away from me to get into my shower. I want to make her pancakes while she sits at the breakfast bar in the apartment I’m going to get while she wears only one of my dress shirts. Now? How about now? What about now?
My mom has started railing about how I don’t understand or appreciate the sacrifices she’s made for us or the sacrifices Darren made. Comparatively, mine have been very small. I have to close my eyes because it hurts. This feeling like I’m never going to be good enough, no matter what I do. And I probably won’t. So why should I keep trying to jump over a bar that’s always going to be out of my reach? I’d rather take Lucy’s hand and walk around it.
I check my watch, because I’ve got to get going if I want to be able to pull this off. And I do. So I’ve got to go. She’s still going on, laying the guilt on thick, but I cut through it. “Mom, I’m sorry you feel that way. But this will be better for all of us. I’ve got to get back to work, but I’ll call you later so we can figure out a day to go through all the information I have. I love you.”
She’s not done yet, in fact her voice ticks up an octave to something I don’t mind calling shrill. But I’ve already pulled the phone away from my ear and am clicking End Call. I survived. Something I’ve been wanting to do for years but hadn’t been able to bring myself to, and now it’s done. I’ve still got to actually execute the plan, but I have a few other things to take care of first. And they involve a smoking hot redhead and some Christmas lights.
*
Evans
It’s past eleven, and I’ve been bouncing a tennis ball against the outside wall of my office for the past twenty minutes, trying to work out the best structure to maintain all the elements of compliance for these bonds. Between BCG and PRA, we should be able to handle it no problem, but getting the duties split up in a way that makes sense—won’t be too taxing for them, nor cost them an arm and leg to have us do—is tricky. Lots of cogs. Lots of wheels. Lots of moving parts that need to work in concert.
Due South (The Compass series Book 5) Page 18