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“Of course.”
“And you’ll have someone with you on the pours?” he eyed me shrewdly.
I shrugged. “Probably. But if not, I can always handle them myse—”
“No!” he shook his head. “No deal, then. It’s too dangerous.”
“But—”
“You do every one of your pours with an assistant,” he wagged a finger at me. “Or the whole thing’s off.”
I tried counting the number of times Drake came with me to cast something for my collection. I think it was three. None of those times did he help me do anything, however. If anything at all, he just got in the way.
“Alright,” I lied through my teeth. I felt bad about it, but times were desperate. “I’ll have an assistant. Every pour.”
“Okayyy,” Mr. Drumm replied skeptically. “In that case—”
Just then the door to the office opened, after a swift triple-knock. I recognized the knock immediately because I’d heard it hundreds of times on the door to my own office.
“Hey! How’s things?”
Mark sauntered in, wiping his mouth with the back of one hairy forearm. Since the door to the office had been open the whole time, I wondered how long he’d been lingering out there.
“Things are good,” replied Mr. Drumm. “Say, would you be willing to help Sloane out with some late night—”
“No need,” I jumped in quickly. “I got it.”
“Because she—”
“It’s fine,” I said, spreading my hands slowly to indicate I had everything under control. My eyes found Mr. Drumm’s again, holding him in my gaze. “Trust me, I’ve got itallcovered.”
“Not sure what the two of you are talking about,” said Mark, taking another bite of his candy bar. “But hey, you know me — always ready to help.”
“I don’t need help.”
He shrugged. “Really, I don’t mind.”
“You have his number?” Mr. Drumm asked.
I looked at Mark, and a shiver of displeasure ran through me. There were many reasons I didn’t like him. I kept them all to myself, however.
“Of course,” I said. “I do, and I’ll use it if I need to.” I let my gaze wander to Mark, while putting on my best false smile. “And I appreciate the offer, too.”
I waved goodbye to my boss and left, wondering how much of our conversation Mark already knew about. He was a shop steward just as I was, only he’d been there a good two years longer than me. I’d taken on more responsibilities than him, however. And it was something that ticked him off.
“But I haveseniority,” I’d overheard him saying once, as I passed one of the windows that led to the break room. “And you keep giving her the best jobs.”
“She gets a lot of the more important jobs, yes,” Mr. Burgen — the foundry’s other partner — had replied without apology. “And that’s because she moves fastandher work is clean.”
Mark had frowned, and I’d gotten the hell out of there before one or both of them saw me through the glass. From that point on, Mark had only been false-friendly around me. He’d smiled and acted cooperative whenever the bosses were around, but the rest of the time we worked together he was passive aggressive and somewhat condescending.
I left the building, vowing to forget about Mark and focus on the good news: I still had permission to use the foundry after hours. I could get caught up with all the personal work I’d been putting off this past week, while trying to get my head straight after Drake. I had a show to do. I had work to finish.
And dammit, it was the holiday season! For that reason alone, I needed to smile and be merry.
Four
SLOANE
