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“Morning, Blondie.”
I waved to Violet on my way in. Thankfully, she was more interested in her daytime guard, Angie, than having a conversation this morning. Having an executive parking spot had netted me an extra fifteen minutes before I was due. I wanted to be up at my desk and ready to go before Mr. Carson left his icy gray cage of an office.
He could watch me all he wanted today.
I slapped my badge against the sensor, and the elevator rose to the top floor. I scanned his kingdom. The extended atrium-like vestibule that showed off the cool beauty of the glass. The huge lobby with its tonal seats that made it feel grand and rich.
More proof of how well he was doing. Everything shone, everything showcased what his special glass could do. All of it had bought my grandmother’s house.
I hated it.
My first day had been wonder. Today, I only saw everything I didn’t have. Everything his money was taking from me.
When the doors opened, I stalked out of the elevator. I set up at my desk and tried not to stare at the opaque door to his office. I put my headset on and started burning through bottles of soda and my email list.
Blake’s checklist was eternal, but I kept up with him. When I opened my folder—now dubbed The Pit of Despair—and thought I was almost done, there would be more there. Four bottles into my Pepsi Max brigade, I finally cried uncle and took a walk around the executive floor. I found a vending machine and took a much needed bathroom break.
“Blondie.”
I turned toward Jack’s voice and backed up to his doorway. “Hey there.”
“You’ve been a damn machine today. Are you trying to outdo Blake?”
“Maybe.”
He laughed and laced his fingers behind his head as he swayed in his chair. “It’ll never happen. I don’t want to see you burn out.”
“I can take whatever he dishes out.”
“Man, don’t say that out loud to him.”
“I did.” I leaned against the doorjamb. “Yesterday, when he took me to the showroom.”
He tsked me. “Not good.”
“We’re getting into a rhythm.” I hated to own up to it, but I was starting to anticipate what he wanted. Some of the things on his checklist I’d already performed before he asked for them.
He didn’t bother me, and I didn’t bother him.
I could almost think of this as just a job. Not a little fib that had snowballed into a much bigger lie that included a damn benefits package.
“What did you actually do before here?”
I shrugged. I didn’t know exactly how much I should say. It wasn’t like I could hide what I was. A background check would show exactly how I’d spent the last seven years since graduating high school. I got a fine arts degree and minored in some business courses. Other than that, stained glass and the history of New England artistry was my life.
And I liked that life until nearly three weeks ago. I looked at my scuffed toes. “I was an artist.”
“And you’re not now?”
I shrugged again. “Circumstances have changed, and I need to do some juggling.”
Jack sat forward in his chair and rested his forearms on his desk. “Like what? Painting and shit?”
I grinned at him. “I do a little painting, but my medium is glass.”
His eyebrows shot up. “Really?”
I nodded. “Do you go over to Marblehead at all?”
