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“No one is going to fire you because I screwed with you.”
With, he’d said with. That wasn’t a proposition. No need to wander on down to HR where voluntary redundancy was the new teal. “They won’t fire you.”
“Not my job to make you feel secure, honey.”
“Honeywell.” She shook her head. “I mean Derelie. You’re such an ass.”
“We established that in the lede. Go get Chan. He’s Prince Charming, more your type.”
“How would you know what my type was?”
He touched the side of his nose in a gesture of “I know what I’m talking about” and then said dryly, “It’s a vague guess, based on the supposition that you thought I was gay and asked for Chan in the first place.”
He had her beat. She let go a distressed sigh and flapped her hands. “How did you do it?”
“Do what?”
“Become formidable. You’re not that old.”
“Compared to you, I’m ancient.”
“I’m twenty-eight and you’re, what?” He wasn’t going to answer unless she baited the hook with a tire. “Forty?”
“Are you trying to questionnaire me by stealth?”
She grunted. Hadn’t thought of that. A missed opportunity. “No, I’m just trying not to lose my job before I’ve learned everything I can from it. You could teach me.” The things she could learn from Jackson Haley would accelerate her competence-building to the nth degree. If she could stand to hang around him. It was a bold ask, and she held her breath waiting for his answer.
“I think you’ve got a better bead on the season’s top colors and the ten best sleep hacks than me, Clickbait.”
“You know what I mean.” It was worth a try. “And don’t call me Clickbait.”
“I know you’re trying your hardest to get me to play nice.”
“But you never do, right? Phil is putting you in your place.” She dropped her eyes to the carpet. Sassing Jack in the gutter wasn’t winning her any points, and she was out of tactics. “Wow, I’ve had some bad dates, but I don’t think I’ve ever been set up as anyone’s punishment.”
He said nothing, his eyes still on his cell. It would be smart to detour by Artie’s desk and recruit him before she went to Shona, if she could make her legs work.
“Honeywell, do you smoke? Because if you’re going to carry on being pathetic and wanting an audience, I need a cigarette, so we have to relocate this stimulating argument to the alley.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I don’t smoke. They’ll kill you.” Now he was trap-setting. But if he was so desperate to get away from her, why hadn’t he simply answered a call or walked out? Maybe he had a shred of compassion tucked into those trim gray trousers.
“Do you at least drink? You can’t be a respectable member of the profession and not know how to hold your liquor.”
She wasn’t much of a drinker. To her disappointment, she’d been called a lightweight more times than she cared to recall. She was trying to switch from coffee and make green tea her usual poison, but this was Jackson Haley, Heartbeat of the City, asking her for a drink. Wasn’t it?
“I drink.” She could fake drinking. Done it a million times.
“Tomorrow night, seven. Donovan’s. Tell Potter you convinced me to play ball.”
“I did?” With only jellied hamstrings to show for it. This had to be a trick.
“No, Honeywell, I have every intention of getting out of this story, but we can make it look like you tried.”
That goddamn big swinging dinkus.
Chapter Four
Jack watched Kelly pour his drink and place it on a coaster in front of him. The bartender didn’t linger. She’d long since learned Jack didn’t do idle conversation. Five minutes later, a man took the stool beside him, placing an envelope on the bar top between them. The guy ordered a beer and Kelly poured it.
