“Maybe one of the American ones, not the wimpy everyone-is-nice British ones,” he said, dumping the powder followed by a can of energy drink into a giant metal water bottle emblazoned with the logo of a startup from down the hall who had failed, leaving all their remaining swag in a pile in the lobby. “It’s not worth the opportunity cost for some glass cake stand. You want at least half a mil to be worth it.”
“Of course,” she said, rolling her eyes. “And what would you do with half a million dollars? Are you one of those FIRE guys, then?”
He shook the vile concoction and took a swig. “You say it like it’s a bad thing. Financial independence, retire early? Sign me up.”
“When are you planning to retire?” she asked. “Thirty?”
He snorted. “If I stay on track, I should get my student loans sorted by thirty, and then I’m getting my mom set up.”
She blinked. “Your mom?”
“Yeah,” he said, a little defensively. “She’s a nurse. It’s been just her and me, you know? But her knees aren’t going to last forever, so it’s gonna be my turn to take care of her. Get her a nice little apartment where she can invite her friends over to watch her shows and shit.”
“That’s… really nice,” she said, feeling unbalanced. She wasn’t used to thinking of Ronaldo as caring about anyone but himself.
“Besides, she’s a total drag,” he continued. “She keeps buying me the wrong brand underwear and she harasses every chick I bring home for being different than the one I brought home the week before.”
And there was the Ronaldo she knew and didn’t love.
“Anyway, you should give it some thought,” he said, leaving with his horrid protein thing. “You need to get grinding, girl.”
“Or maybe you could open a bakery,” Vijay continued.
“What, you also think I suck at marketing?” She expected it of Ronaldo, but she’d thought Vijay was nicer.
“No, no!” he said, holding up his hands. “I meant that you seem to like baking more than working here. Or you did. You seem happier now.”
“Maybe I am?” It shouldn’t have been true, but it was. Everything was terrible and her immortal soul was in peril. But. Somehow she felt more fulfilled than she ever had before. Maybe they could pull this off. Collaborating with Luke felt natural, almost effortless. People liked her work. Brad had been surprisingly easy to sign and unsurprisingly annoyingenough that she had trouble feeling that bad about it. She knew she should feel bad about not feeling bad but every time she started to feel a flicker of remorse, Brad demanded something else ridiculous from Luke. Was that the true price of her not-a-Deal gift from Luke? The slow erosion of her soul? Except that it wasn’t hanging around Luke that made her feel more callous: it was hanging around Brad.
“Good for you,” Vijay said. She searched his face for some hint of sarcasm, but he looked back at her guilelessly.
“Thanks,” she said. It still felt weird, getting compliments.
Luke wasn’t in any of the little side rooms. He could be in the bathrooms, although it had been an awfully long time. He could have left the building, but his bag was still there. Also, he almost never went outside without her, she suddenly realized. She might be having a better time, but he definitely wasn’t. She felt a wash of guilt.
Had something happened to him?
She took her mug back to her desk (the cookie bar didn’t make it). She had a brief pang of loss for the heat of her coffee, but it didn’t seem like the chemical-y caramel popcorn toastiness would be made significantly worse if she had to reheat it. She leaned over and whispered to Rix.
“Can you find Lucareoth?”
Rix bounced to his feet, tail wagging madly. She followed him through the office. Hayley glared at him mistrustfully, Floofums growling from behind the safety of her ankles. Carter ignored Morgan but gave Rix a little nod. Kelly and Brad were mercifully ensconced in his office, so at least she didn’t have to deal with either of them.
Rix paused at the door to the supply closet.
Morgan considered. The closet was big enough forone person to hide and cry in, as she knew from personal experience. It would be very tight with two. Two plus an excitable hellhound was right out, unless Rix could squeeze himself onto one of the shelves.
“Good boy,” she told Rix. “Can you go back to the desk now?”
Rix cocked his head, tail wagging, not a thought in his big puppy illusion eyes. She wasn’t sure if the glamour covered actual intelligence or if there really weren’t more than three brain cells bouncing around in that head. She sighed, took him back to the desk, and returned to the closet. She took a breath and then slipped inside.
She immediately knew it had been a mistake. There was nowhere to stand that didn’t involve at least one part of her body touching him. He’d been facing away from the door, so her front ended up pressed against his back, one of her feet between his. This close, he smelled like charcoal smoke and her own jasmine body wash, which explained how she’d been going through it so quickly. Flustered, she tried to figure out what to do with her hands. She wanted to put them on his hips, or maybe slide them up his chest. Which was not friend-like behavior. She shoved them in her pockets, knocking over a bottle of glue.
“Oh! Ah. These, umm, metal things are really twisted together,” Luke blurted, fumbling around on the shelf. The box of paper clips crumpled in his hand and the clips showered to the floor. He dove after them. “I’ll, umm, pick these up and get out of your way.”
“I’ll help,” she said, starting to crouch right as he looked up and slammed the top of his head into her face.
Her vision went briefly white as pain exploded along hercheekbone. She flailed and sat down heavily on the bottom shelf. Pens rained down on them both.
