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Hi. It was his typical clipped style; she shouldn’t read anything into it, he was different in person. Working late. She had a yoga class to get to anyway, not like she’d expected the weekend to continue. Martha’s food is in the top cupboard if you want to meet me at home. She likes the sashimi broth. I like you in my bed.
She could’ve high-fived her screen. She wanted to meet him at home. She’d even had practice at getting into his place without letting Martha out. You had to be quick and quiet and use your legs as a blocking device. It was possible you’d lose skin.
She typed back. I’d love to feed Martha. See you at your place.
It would mean getting up early and going back to hers again to change, unless she brought a change of clothing. Was it too soon to ask if she could have a hanger in his wardrobe, park a spare toothbrush by his sink? She didn’t have any time to think about it because her afternoon went sideways.
She got a call from Phil’s assistant. Be in his office in five minutes.
Phil’s office. The last time she’d seen Phil, he’d listened as Jack pointed out how much she had to learn about the news business. Phil’s office. The only reason she’d have to go to Phil’s office was to say hello to sequential morning lie-ins and an unemployment line. There was no Shona to check with and she wasn’t even sure where Phil’s office was. Eunice—calm, collected, seen it all—babbled when Derelie asked for directions.
“Derelie, take a seat,” Phil said, when she found him. That was thoughtful. He wasn’t going to make her stand up while he voluntarily laid her off.
“You’ve been with us almost a year. You do good work. I hear you got that bastard Haley to cooperate on the love story. I want to see it.”
Annoying that this was happening exactly when the city was a whole lot more attractive because it had Jack in it.
“Shona Potter is taking voluntary.” Phil coughed in place of finishing the sentence. “I’m promoting you to section editor.”
Would she have enough time to write the story before Phil made her pack up her desk? She’d have to ask Jack—”Pardon?”
“You don’t want the job?”
“Me? There are others—” More qualified. What the heck happened to Shona?
“Yes, there are. Do you want the job? Because the person who had it gave it up.”
So Shona quit with a buyout. “I want it.” What did she just agree to?
Phil turned to his screen. “HR will fill you in on the role and salary details. Got it?”
“I—”
“Got or not, Derelie?”
“Got it.”
“Okay. Get out.”
Amazing how your legs could leg it without the active participation of your brain. She made it to the doorway before Phil said, “Derelie. You have talent. You’ll get used to me.”
“I thought after that day with Jack you’d think—”
“He was being an asshole. That’s what I thought. Also, don’t fuck anyone. Not even Artie Chan.”
“What?”
“You like him. Everyone likes him. Don’t fuck him. But if you have to fuck him, keep it a secret.”
“Okay.” She agreed to keep any fucking of Artie Chan a secret. She still had a job. A better job that would pay more. She almost fist pumped. She’d come in here wanting to barf.
“Get out.”
When she got back to her cube it was to the raised eyes of her section colleagues. Shona’s desk had already been cleared.
“Hello, boss,” said Eunice. “Don’t mess this up.”
Chapter Twenty
