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“Hello.” Her greeting was lukewarm at best.
“I got an email that they want to talk to me.”
“Same.” Lucy wasn’t surprised they wanted to talk to him given the universal knowledge that Chase jumped at every opportunity to please Jonathan, and he had probably witnessed something worth discussing with HR.
They sat in silence, staring at the wall across the hall. Lucy had never paid attention to the abstract oil painting. The blue and purple haze reminded her of the deep sea, or maybe outer space, and she wondered if it was meant to be soothing. After all, anyone who stared at the painting was on their way to meet with HR, and that was rarely a pleasant experience.
She studied the layers of color blended into one another like it was her job because the alternative was making conversation with Chase McMillan.
He quietly cleared his throat, enduring the palpable discomfort as best he could. Lucy would normally have enjoyed watching him squirm, but when the squirming was mutual, it wasn’t so great. He folded his arms and crossed his ankles out in front of him. Lucy noticed a sharp scuff in his shoe’s pale leather toe about the size and shape of the block heel on her flats.
“Did I do that to your shoe?”
He snorted something close to a laugh and angled his foot to see. “Yep. Nothing a cobbler can’t fix though.”
A real laugh burst from her mouth. She flinched at how loud it was in the quiet hall. “You have a cobbler?”
He squared his shoulders and tilted his chin like she’d offended him. “Of course I do.”
“Why, you get your feet stomped on by angry women a lot?”
“Oh, so that was on purpose.”
She glared at his smug face.
He glared back, but it didn’t carry his usual zeal. “How was your lunch with Lily?”
“I totally killed it. She’s going to sign with us. How was your lunch with Shawn?”
“Same. He got me courtside tickets for the game tonight.”
“Hmm.”
“Hmm.”
They returned to staring at the oil painting, at an impasse. Lucy strained to hear what was going on behind the closed doors beside them, but she couldn’t make out anything other than a muffled hum.
Chase opened his mouth like he was going to say something and then closed it again. He did it twice more, and Lucy couldn’t stand it.
“If you’re going to say something, say it.”
He caught the edge of a breath and sighed. He let his arms fall and rested his hands on his thighs. “Look, you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, but... I’m sorry if... if Jonathan did anything inappropriate to you.”
She gaped at him, unable to stop herself, because while she felt vulnerable and exposed, she also couldn’t believe he’d said something so... considerate.
“I’m not the total asshole you think I am, Lucy.”
She managed to close her mouth and form words. “I don’t think you’re an asshole.”
And that was perhaps the most stunning revelation of the day.
She balked at her own admission as Chase laughed.
“Yeah you do. And I can’t deny that I fit the mold. But it’s just—” He cut himself off and flexed his hands like he was struggling to find the words. “It’s just that you’re so... goodat what you do, that I feel like I have to, I don’t know, compensate.”
Again, she was floored. He was either an excellent liar or her compulsive truth-telling was contagious.
He frowned at what must have been bewilderment on her face. “Don’t look so shocked. You know you kick ass at your job. I feel like I can hardly compete most of the time.” He mumbled the last part and ran a hand through his hair.
