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Thousands of people depend on my leadership.
They deserve better from me.
“Oh my god. You seriously think I’d do that?”
“I don’t know, that’s all.”
Her mouth falls open. Stunned. Hurt. “How can you not know? Like I’m an enemy of the company suddenly? Like I’m outside…” She goes pale. “Oh my god.” Her phone’s ringing, but her gaze is on me. “Because, of course, you still wonder if I’m a scammer.”
“It’s not like I’m standing here wondering…”
“I told you things would be right. I swore to you. I meant it. Oh my god—I’m so stupid.” She pulls out her phone and answers. I can tell it’s her sister from her tone. “I’m coming.”
For once I don’t know what to do. “Let me give you a ride, at least. Let’s talk.”
“I’ve had enough of your talk.” She’s texting.
“What are you doing?”
“Calling a Lyft,” she snaps. “There’s one two minutes away.” She puts away her phone and heads to the other side of the place where Latrisha is.
“Vicky.” I go along. “I’ll give you a ride.”
“Not happening.”
Latrisha is there. Glaring at me. They exchange glances that probably contain girl communication about what a jackass I am.
Vicky grabs her purse, spins around, shoves past me, and walks toward the red exit sign.
I follow.
She turns at the door, looks me in the eye. “I’m asking you to not follow.”
The way she asks, it’s important to her. I fold my arms, teeth grinding. There are things I need to say, but I don’t know what.
She pushes open the door and heads out into the night.
She doesn’t want me following, but there’s no way I’m not watching from the door, not when she’s wandering around that gloomy sidewalk. She clutches her purse, forlorn under a streetlight.
I’m Henry Locke. People depend on me. I protect my people.
No matter what the cost.
A black car rolls onto the lot. She slips in and they drive off.
My heart curls into a cinder.
Dizzy, I wander out to my truck and start unloading the last pieces—a concrete block that weighs a ton and some massive wood slabs. I bring them in, one by one, to Latrisha’s workstation.
I can’t shake the memory of her wounded expression.
What have I done?
Latrisha eyes me as I muscle an unwieldy piece of debris into the corner. I say, “Why are the coolest looking hunks of rebar-wrapped concrete always the heaviest?”
“Somebody would help you with it.”
“I want to do it.” I get another load, and then another. I go back to her and peel off my gloves. She has paperwork for me to sign.
