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“What are you talking about? If not tonight, when?” Dan stood looming over me. “Come on, one drink.”
“I told you, I can’t.”
“What’d I say? He’s got a woman.” Enrique leaned down to sniff at my hair. “What is that, lilacs?”
Dan took a deep whiff. “Lilacs and sweat.”
I batted them both away. “Go on, fuck off.”
“He isn’t denying it.”
“Toldja. A woman.”
I rolled my eyes, but my pulse had picked up. I did have a woman, and she would be waiting, all lathered up from watching me slay it. I felt like some kind of old-timey knight, and she’d given me her sleeve to wear into battle. Now I was victorious, about to ride home. Tonight, all night, I would be her hero. She’d let me conquer her, and sleep in her arms.
I couldn’t think of anything better than that.
CHAPTER 10
IZZY
It’s amazing how a day can turn on a dime, from cloud nine to hell in the time it takes to say “douchebag.”
My day started perfect, waking up next to Spencer. He must’ve just woken himself, because his eyes were still squinty. He looked down at me cockeyed, all bed-warm and rumpled, and I leaned up and kissed his rough cheek.
“Morning. Sleep well?”
“Best night’s sleep ever.” He pulled me into his arms and we lay in the half-dark, the first gray of morning pale through the curtains. Spencer kissed my temple. “I could stay here forever.”
“Don’t you have practice?”
“No. I don’t know. Tell ’em I’m dead.”
I chuckled. “I think your coach might have a question or two about that.”
We lingered in our warm nest as long as we could, but I had work and Spencer had practice, and we hauled ourselves up just before six. I rushed through my shower and dressed in a hurry, and made breakfast for both of us, bacon and eggs. Spencer rushed out right after, about to be late. I cleaned up the kitchen then sat at the table, going over my notes for today’s presentation. Which, as it happened, I didn’t need at all.
I got to my desk bang on eight thirty, and sat and waited for Mark and Jim to come by. I had some new mockups prepared for the clients, the better to show off the scope of our plans. If that wasn’t team-playing, I didn’t know what was. The douchebros had done nothing but shoot down my ideas, but here I was propping up theirs. Stern, at least, would have to see that.
I took out my mockups and spread them out on my desk. The minutes ticked by — eight forty. Eight fifty. I glanced at my watch, then my phone to be sure, and craned past our desk clump to peer through reception. The receptionist, Cherie, was sitting alone, slouched down in her seat, eyes on her e-reader. I stood and went out there, and she sat up.
“Hey, Cherie,” I said. “You seen Mark or Jim yet?”
She frowned. “Didn’t they tell you? They’re in with the Rio group.”
The blood drained from my head. “What? That’s not till nine.”
“No, it got moved up. They didn’t call you?”
I spun on my heel, dizzy with rage. No, they hadn’t called me. They hadn’t said a word. I marched to the conference room vibrating with anger, only to stop with my hand on the door. If I burst in like a hurricane, all righteous fury, I’d look like a toddler having a tantrum. What I needed to do here was damage control: get in front of the clients. Show them my value. Ignore Mark and Jim and their petty sabotage.
I swung back by my desk and picked up my mockups. Slipped into the meeting. Took a seat at the back. Stern nodded at me from his place near the window. Jim’s skinny lips twitched like he was hiding a smirk. Mark was walking the Rio guys through the specs for our concept. I could see from his PowerPoint he was just wrapping up.
“I don’t know,” said the client, when he was through. Johnson, his name was. He frowned at his notes.
“I’m sorry?” said Mark. “If you have questions, we’d be happy to?—”
Johnson held up his hand, motioning him to silence. He shuffled through his notes, then pushed them aside. “I don’t know,” he said again. “Isn’t it a bit… blocky?”
