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‘So, don’t freak out. I slept with his fiancée,’ Lara says, biting the edge of her bottom lip guiltily.
‘That’s it, Lara. You need to leave my desk.’
I start to pat the side of her perfectly round bottom lodged on my desk, to shoo her off. She can’t keep doing this to me. I keep enough of her secrets. This one is too much.
‘I know…but Aari, she’s beautiful. And clever. She’s tough, angry and sexy. She’s just…’ Lara sighs, and I’m not buying it.
‘Different? Haven’t met anyone like her? You’ll be bored and screening her calls in a week!’
‘I’m thinking of handing the CrimeSpree account to someone else.’
This is new.
‘Lara, she’s engaged to your client. One who chooses to call himself CrimeSpree and makes his living churning out chart-middling hits glorifying his felonious life.’
Lara inspects a long, red nail and waves my concerns away.
‘Oh please. His real name is Cyril Sparks and his middle name, by the by, is Bertrand. He lived at home with his mother until last year, and that tattoo? Custom stick-on. He’s scared of needles.’
‘You’re unbelievable, Lara.’ I cross my arms.
‘I have no plans to run away into the sunset together, but I like her enough to see if this might go somewhere. Let’s face it, this shit could get me fired. It was stressful enough hiding from CrimeSpree all weekend. We almost got found out yesterday morning. Nightmare!’
I stare open-mouthed at Lara. She has outdone herself this time.
‘So, I was wondering…’
‘No, Lara. I’m not babysitting CrimeSpree.’
‘It’s only for—’
‘Break a leg. Get hit by a bus. Have a killer hangover. I’d happily cover. This, no.’
‘Go on, please?’
She pouts and I ignore her. ‘Pout all you like. I’m immune.’ I wave her off. Her little tricks don’t work on me, but it doesn’t stop her from trying. Every single time.
‘Fine. I’ll figure it out. What did you do this weekend?’
By comparison, I live a pretty dull life. This weekend, however, like the last six, was painful to get through, but I don’t know how to tell her what’s been on my mind.
‘Jasper was working, so…’
‘Again?!Ugh. He may be the last of the absolute decent ones left, but a work-free weekend won’t kill him.’
‘It’s fine. I went riding on Saturday morning and spent the afternoon working out some recipes. It was too late to do anything on Saturday night when he got back home, but we had Sunday lunch with his mom and went for a walk afterwards. It was nice.’ I force a smile.
‘He’s so lucky to have locked you down. If it was someone else— shit! It’s almost ten! I haven’t done my report!’ Lara gets up abruptly, taking my pen pot with her. She scrambles to pick the mess up. ‘Lunch at one?’
‘Oh yes!’ I smile. I can’t help it.
‘I’ll have a solution by then, naturally concocted behind your back, so you can have plausible deniability, don’t you worry.’
After navigating the 10a.m., I spend the morning swallowing my anxiety and keeping it together as I stare obsessively at one of three glass domes in the office, trying to figure out how to approach the conversation with its resident. I only realise that it’s lunchtime when Lara reappears.
‘Are you pregnant?’ she says, sneaking up on me and making me jump.
‘No! Goodness! Why would you say that?’
