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“Working on a Saturday, huh?” He said politely.
“Something like that,” I said.
“Well, somebody’s got to do it.”
I nodded, pressing my lips together. He seemed to understand that I wasn’t in the mood to chat, and he left me alone when we reached the lobby. He headed off down one of the many hallways, but I headed to the main desk. It was a different woman than I’d seen earlier in the week. Maybe Locke had different people working different days. That made sense. It was a big company, after all.
Who knew? Maybe they rotated.
“How can I help you?” She asked, smiling. I liked this girl. Amber. She had curly red hair that seemed to go everywhere all at once. I got some serious Miss Frizzle vibes from her, but didn’t mind at all. Her smile seemed genuine, and she actually seemed to like her job.
“I’m here to see Mr. Locke,” I said.
“Oh, you must be Miss Key,” she said. “Go on up. He’s waiting for you.”
“Thanks,” I said. I looked over at the other set of elevators: the ones that would take me up to his office. I didn’t start moving right away, though. Amber seemed to notice my hesitation, and she gave me a sympathetic smile.
“Nervous?”
“A little.”
“He can be kind of intimidating, huh?”
“That’s putting it lightly.”
She watched me for a moment, and then she seemed to make a decision because she leaned in and lowered her voice.
“Just between us, I was friends with his sister,” she said. “And I knew Locke growing up.”
That got my attention. I looked at Amber sharply.
“You did?”
Amber was young: probably 21 or 22. She had youth on her side and she was cute and pretty and bubbly. The idea that she’d been friends with Rebecca was fascinating to me in a strange sort of way.
“Yeah,” she said. “So I know him better than a lot of people. I knew him as a big brother before I ever knew him as a realtor, so just remember that no matter what kind of badass front he puts on, Locke has a big, gooey heart.”
“Are you serious?” I stared at her.
Amber nodded. She didn’t laugh, though. She didn’t even smile. She was all business now when it came to helping me feel comfortable with this guy.
“He’s older than me, and older than Rebecca was.”
“
I knew that.”
“About fifteen years older,” she added. He was 37. Rebecca had died last year at 21 years old, which meant Amber was about 22 now: exactly as I’d imagined.
“Okay,” I said carefully. “So he looked after you?”
“When we were in high school, he was already in the middle of building his empire. I had a boyfriend who tried to...well, let’s just say he was a lot pushier than he should have been. Locke took care of it for me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that no matter what this guy says, he’s a good man. He comes across as a total dick sometimes, but there’s a lot more to him than that.”
“Are you trying to say that he’s an asshole because he’s hurting?” I asked, raising an eyebrow. I might not be the world’s best student, but I’d studied more than enough to know that pain wasn’t an excuse for treating other people poorly. Then again, Locke was abrasive, but he’d never actually treated me poorly. He’d treated me...strangely, perhaps. He hadn’t treated me badly, though.
