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She looked up, her mouth comically ajar. “Oh. It’s you.” She screwed her mouth in distaste and tossed her phone to her desk. “Gretchen’s office is down the hall.”
She thought I was here for Gretchen. I’d almost forgotten about the latter’s existence.
“Working on a Guinness record for most eccentric piece of garbage?” I asked to initiate some pleasant chitchat.
She didn’t look up from the small cone she held, wrapped in brown papier-mâché. The tip of her tongue poked from the side of her mouth. “I’m making a diorama for Lyric’s science project. She wanted an active volcano.”
“Who’s Lyric?”
“Your lover’s child, you scoundrel.” She squatted down to retrieve more red paint.
“G’s kid?” I pushed off the door and ambled into the room. “Shouldn’t she be doing it?”
By the death glare Daphne pinned me with, I gathered the Beatty family did very little by themselves. Considering she had six assistants, I’d be surprised if Gretchen wiped her own ass. Mary Poppins should be grateful Gretchen couldn’t physically transfer her period cramps to her.
I plopped down on her office chair. She had flow charts with Post-it Notes arranged by pastel color on her desk, freakishly neat handwriting,and an inspiration board pinned with Hamptons mansions and Birkin bags. Gretchen wasn’t kidding. Shewasa social climber. I’d grown up around moneyed women my entire life, and the only ones who were gaga for overpriced designer crap were the newly rich ones.
“I came here to continue our negotiations.” I popped open a plastic container’s lid on her desk to see what was inside. Berries. Figured. She seemed like the kind of woman who viewed carbs as a mortal sin.
“Make yourself useful while you’re at it and fill this empty bottle with baking soda and red food coloring.” She jerked her chin to my right, where a cardboard box sat with the ingredients. “Don’t add the vinegar. She’ll have to bring it separately to school.”
I picked up the empty water bottle and started working.
“So. Told anyone you caught Gretchen Beatty fucking a punk yet?” I inquired conversationally.
Daphne was still painting the bloodied stool she referred to as a volcano. “First of all, I reckon you’re too old to be called apunk. Alosermight be more age appropriate.”
And this is why you have to blackmail people into marriage, sweetheart.
“To answer your question, I’m currently shopping around for an interview deal.” She let loose a smile that could freeze the sun and its neighboring planets.
“And how’s that going for you?” I tilted an eyebrow.
She glared at the shoebox she was standing in, then back at me in aTake a wild guesslook.
“Well, I come bearing good news.” I used the funnel on her desk to slide the baking soda into the bottle.
“Oh?” She picked up a wet towel from the floor and wiped her hands. “Last time you came, the only good thing that happened was I narrowly avoided getting strangled to death by my boss. No thanks to you, of course.”
“Shit, Poppins, was that a sexual innuendo?” I laughed.
“Hardly.” She scowled and then blushed. “Thatwasn’t a sexual innuendo, either, so do behave.”
My God, her mouth was more entertaining than her boss’s. And it wasn’t even wrapped around my cock.
“Actually, I have a confession to make. I didn’t come.” I put a hand to my heart. “You killed the mood for me.”
“The condolences basket is on its way.” She untied the apron around her waist. Underneath it was a pleated ankle-length dress that made her look like a stern governess who was a few minutes away from thrashing an orphan for asking for more porridge. Having sex with the woman was probably as thrilling as filing your annual tax return.
“Water under the bridge.” I screwed the cap back on the bottle with the baking soda and put it in the box. “Listen, I’m willing to rethink the whole getting hitched thing.”
She stepped out of the diorama and carried it to an open window, each of her movements designed to curb her surprise and joy. “Why?”
“Don’t worry about the why.”
“What is it? Are you in trouble? Have you done something illegal?” She propped herself against her filing cabinet, her tone measured and crisp.
“You mean in general, or recently, in a way that can implicate you?”
