He shook his head. Raising a teenager was totally above his pay grade, and he feared that if his sister were here to see what he was doing, she would be very disappointed. He’d tried to make Emmy happy, but everything he seemed to do was wrong. Like the time he’d come home with a Barbie for her. She’d looked at it and almost burst into tears, asking if he thought she was still a baby?
He shook his head and made a mental note to google what thirteen year olds were playing with these days.
CHAPTERSEVEN
Poppy
By the time I saw the big, silver skyscraper on Monday morning, I was already dripping with sweat—despite the cool weather. I had grazes on my knees and elbows, a ripped skirt that I was holding together with a hairpin that I’d pulled out from under my wig, and I was wheeling a broken bicycle with me.
I’d borrowed the bike from one of my neighbors since I was no longer in possession of a car—or any mode of transport, for that matter. In retrospect, it hadn’t been a good idea. In fact, it had been a monumentally bad idea, since I didn’t even know how to ride a bike. It’s not like I’d had a father to teach me that kind of thing. To my credit, I’d almost gotten the hang of it a mile or two into the ride, but the sudden honking of a car horn had caused me to tumble dramatically to the pavement. The bike fell hard, as did I, breaking the already dodgy-looking wheel as it crashed into the concrete pavement.
All in all, not a good morning. Everything that could potentially go wrong had gone wrong, and now I was almost running late for my first day at work. I ran the last few blocks; it was challenging dragging the heavy bike with me. But I couldn’t be late. I chained the bike to the only thing I could see outside the office—a small fever tree. A mere sapling growing out of the concrete box it had been planted in. I was surprised the great Ryan Stark would have allowed such a thing outside his building. Wouldn’t want the place to look human, after all. I ran for the door once I’d locked the bike up, but before I went in, I stopped and looked at myself in the reflective building.
I stared. I was trying to figure out which part of me looked worse? The top half of me, with the windblown wig, broken glasses and blood-stained elbows. Or the bottom half . . . ripped skirt and bloody, grazed knees. At least I hadn’t fallen on my face, thank God for small mercies.
I straightened myself as best I could, but it wasn’t working. No amount of straightening would make me look any better today. I still looked like I’d been dragged through a muddy swamp and then thrown into a thorn bush, with a bad wig on.
“Assume the character and act,” I said to myself as I pushed the doors open. I rushed across the floor to the elevator, shouting a quick “hello” to the receptionist I’d met on Friday. I didn’t have time for pleasantries because I was due at my desk in precisely seven minutes. And I bethewas counting the seconds.
“Hey!” the receptionist screamed after me. “Where do you think you’re going?”
“To the office,” I shouted over my shoulder as I arrived at the elevator.
“I don’t think so!” I heard the sudden scurry of feet behind me. “Stop right there!” she said.
“Huh?” I turned around and came face-to-face with her.
“Don’t move or I’ll have to call security.” She was swaying from side to side like she was getting ready to run if need be. But why?
I burst out laughing. “Oh . . . you didn’t get the memo from Mr. Stark. I work here now. As of today.” I gave her a friendly smile and turned back to the elevator. I reached out and was just about to press the button when . . .
“Hold it! Stop right where you are!” She shouted this time, and it made me jump.
“What’s going on?” I asked. She was pointing a pen at me now, as if it was a weapon.
“Mr. Stark told me to remove you from the building if I saw you in here again.”
“What?” My stomach twisted. “He said that?”
“Oh yes.” She was circling me now. “He’s concerned about your mental state, and quite frankly, so am I, just looking at you.” Her eyes scanned me, top-to-toe, and I was mortified.
“Oh, this,” I said. “My car was towed and I tried to ride a bike here but I fell. I don’t usually look like this.” I tried to laugh and make light of it. But clearly, it wasn’t working.
“You’re not welcome here,” she hissed.
My mouth fell open. Wait, had he been tricking me? Playing some cruel joke on me by getting my hopes up? Was he really that much of a bastard? I was determined to ask him myself.
“Well,” I squared off in front of crazy pen lady. “I want him to say that to my face!” I reached behind me and pressed the button firmly, but as I did, the pen-wielding psycho let out a yell.
“Security!” She screamed so loudly that it echoed through the large reception area.
Security, security, securitythe building screamed back at me.
The sound of feet hitting the marble floor made me look to my left. A frightening-looking security guard rushed towards me.
“Escort this woman out of the building. Immediately,” she said.
But before I could object, before I could explain that this was obviously some kind of dreadful mistake, I felt the painful grip of fingers around my already sore elbow.
