5. Rachel
5
RACHEL
I sat cross-legged on the floor of Derrick’s chaotic office, papers and files strewn around me like the aftermath of a paper hurricane. Grabbing a thick folder from the mess, I held it up, raising an eyebrow.
“Keep or shred?” I asked, tilting my head.
Derrick leaned forward in his chair behind the imposing oak desk that dominated the room. His eyes scanned the folder as if weighing its worth before he responded. “Shred.”
With a dramatic flourish, I pulled the pages out and fed them into the shredder’s voracious maw. The machine whirred to life, eagerly devouring the paper. It was oddly comforting watching the past disappear in shreds.
“Tell me again why you want to work here part-time?” Derrick asked, his tone more commanding than curious.
“My mom’s been busting her ass as a neonatal ICU doctor for over two decades,” I started, trying to keep the mood light. He was always so serious. “And I want to surprise her with an Alaskan cruise. It’s been on her bucket list forever, but she never has time. She works constantly, and I need a way to motivate her.”
Derrick glanced at me, his expression softening for a fraction of a second before his professional mask slipped back into place. “And that’s why you bullied me into hiring you?”
After Derrick had come to my rescue on Saturday, I’d spent the whole next day thinking about my life, which was not something I regularly did. I typically went with the flow, but my flow kept slamming me into my stalker. Saturday night had shaken me more than I wanted to admit, and my regular routine felt unsafe.
That was when the idea of working part-time at Dreamary had come to me, but there were other reasons too. First, Derrick obviously needed some help. The entire office was a hot mess. Second, I wanted to send my mom and me on that cruise. And third, I felt way safer working there than managing the Pilates studio. It was small, and when there wasn’t a class being taught, I was the only employee there, tackling the admin work.
“Didn’t take much bullying. I texted you Monday night about it, and you practically threw the job at me.” I grinned. “But thank you. I can’t wait to see the look on my mom’s face when I surprise her.”
Derrick’s gaze softened, the corners of his mouth curling into a subtle smile. “You’re a good daughter.”
“I know,” I said. “I’m good at a lot of things.”
He chuckled, the sound low and rumbling, like distant thunder.
“But don’t go spreading it around,” I said, standing up and stretching my legs. “I can only handle so much extra work.”
“Your secret’s safe with me,” Derrick said.
I grinned at him before continuing the task at hand. We’d been at this for several hours now, organizing his chaotic mess of papers and files. I could tell he hated it, but there was a certain satisfaction about bringing order to the chaos—at least for me.
His office was an extension of its owner—rugged, unpolished, a little intimidating. But now, with the evening light filtering in, the dimness softening the harsh edges, I could see the potential beneath the mess. Derrick was meticulous when it came to his work, but when it came to organizing his office? Not so much.
I caught a glimpse of an old photo peeking out from a stack of papers and, curious, I pulled it free. The image was grainy, black-and-white, showing a younger Derrick, in his late teens, surrounded by several little girls, all of them laughing. His sisters, I assumed.
He must have noticed the photo in my hand because he stood and strode over to me, plucking it from my fingers.
“Are those all your sisters?” I asked.
“Yep. All six,” he said, a soft smile on his face as he looked at the memory.
“What was that like growing up with six girls?” I asked, genuinely interested. I’d been an only child. His childhood was so different from mine.
“Hell,” he said, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.
I laughed. “I bet.”
“Rachel.” Derrick’s voice sharpened. He tucked the picture away, done with the conversation. “Can we talk about what happened on Saturday?”
“I told you, I’m fine.” I waved him off, not wanting to dive into the paranoia that had been eating at me. “Now, shut up and let me earn my money, Mr. Jackass.”
Derrick looked at me pointedly, not happy with my dismissive answer, or perhaps my nickname for him. I grabbed another thick folder, flipping through it, avoiding his glare.
Derrick frowned but gave a reluctant nod. “Keep that one.”
I placed the folder neatly in the “keep” pile, trying to ignore the lingering tension in the room. We worked in silence for a few minutes, the only sound the steady hum of the shredder.
“The owner of the studio doesn’t mind you working here?” Derrick asked.
“Nope,” I said, but the truth was I hadn’t told Gianna.
For the past two years, I had been the manager of Hotties by Pilates, and Gianna wanted me to take over the studio when she retired, but I wasn’t sure that’s what I wanted anymore.
The door creaked open, and Peyton poked her head in, her brown hair swinging across the doorjamb.
“Hey, did you get my message about that new political podcast I want you to consider acquiring?” she asked, her tone breezy.
Derrick clicked his mouse, eyes locked on his computer screen as he scrolled. “Where did you send it? I don’t see it in my inbox.”
“Snapchat.”
I snorted, unable to resist. “He’s too old for that.”
“Hey!” Derrick barked, his eyes narrowing at me.
“It’s true,” I teased, my grin widening. “Do you even have an account?”
Derrick’s brows knit together as he picked up his phone. Before he could figure it out, I leaned over and snatched it from his hand, my fingers flying across the screen until I found the yellow icon. I tapped it triumphantly. “I need your log-in details.”
He squinted at the screen, clearly out of his element. “Hold on.” Derrick flipped open a spiral notebook, his finger tracing down the page in search of the elusive password.
“Oh my God,” I groaned, palming my forehead. “Please tell me you don’t have all your passwords written in there.”
Peyton chuckled, shaking her head. “You were a cop, Derrick. Don’t you know anything about security?”
“This is secure,” Derrick insisted, looking offended. “No one would think to look here for passwords.”
Peyton and I exchanged a knowing look.
“Dude,” I laughed, exasperated. “You’re an anomaly.”
Derrick typed in the passcode and then stared at the app like it was a piece of alien technology. “I have no idea where the messages are on this thing.”
He looked at me, completely ignoring Peyton, who leaned over to guide him. “Just click on the link in the message here, and it’ll take you directly to the podcast’s homepage. Look it over and let me know what you think,” she said.
Peyton stepped toward the door, but Derrick’s voice stopped her. “Hey, Jackson says you guys are looking to move into a new place. That’s, uh, great.” He forced a smile, though it looked more like a grimace. “Way to go.”
Peyton shifted uncomfortably, her gaze dropping to the floor. “Oh, yeah. Thanks. I’ll, um, wait to hear about that podcast.”
“Great,” Derrick said, his tone overly bright.
As soon as Peyton was gone, I threw an empty file folder at Derrick’s head. He batted it away with lightning reflexes.
“What the hell?” he snapped.
“Dude, what was that about? You were acting really weird.”
“Drop it,” Derrick grumbled, but the flush creeping up his neck betrayed him.
“It would’ve been cute if you weren’t so awkward,” I said, dragging the next tower of files closer.
“I said drop it,” Derrick said, his voice lowering into a rumble.
“I heard a rumor you dated her.”
Derrick’s fingers froze in midair over his keyboard, and his gaze sharpened. “It’s none of your business,” he growled.
“Uh-oh, did I hit a nerve?” I teased, enjoying the way his cheeks darkened. “What happened? Couldn’t get it up?”
Derrick shot up from his chair, sending it crashing to the floor.
“Get out,” he commanded, his voice dangerously low.
I blinked, taken aback. “What?”
“Get the hell out of here. I’m not having some kid analyze things she knows nothing about. Go.”
His gaze burned with fury, his broad chest heaving as if he was barely restraining himself.
“Whatever,” I huffed, kicking one of the paper towers. Real mature, I know. It toppled over, sending a cascade of documents across the floor. “I was only kidding.”
I stormed out of the office, slamming the door behind me. My annoyance simmered just beneath the surface as I charged into the break lounge, my footsteps echoing in the small space. The lounge was a stark contrast to Derrick’s office—sleek and modern with a wet bar, two beers on draft, swinging hammock chairs, and a plush, pink sofa where Eva and I often sat, dissecting our lives on her lunch break.
I collapsed onto the sofa, fuming. Who knew Derrick couldn’t take a damn joke.
As I stewed in my frustration, Lexi walked in. I’d met her a few times when Eva worked here. “You alright?”
“Derrick can be a real dick,” I blurted out.
Lexi raised an eyebrow. “Oh shit. Did something happen?”
“I was joking with him about his sex life, and he blew up at me,” I admitted, crossing my arms.
“Ah,” Lexi said, but something in her facial expression made me think she knew more than she was letting on.
“Hey, wanna grab a drink?” I asked, eager to get out of the office. It was nearly seven anyway. “There’s a dive bar around the corner that Eva and I used to go to.”
Lexi smiled. “Sure. I just finished my last interview for the day.”
* * *
We ended up in the dimly lit dive bar, the kind of place with torn red-leather booths and decades of stories soaked into the walls. The bar’s atmosphere was cozy yet grungy, the low hum of conversations blending with the distant sound of clinking glasses.
Lexi stirred her creamy green cocktail, thinking. “I envy people like you,” she said.
I tilted my head, curious. “How do you mean?”
“Your carefree I-don’t-give-a-fuck attitude,” she said.
I laughed, leaning back in the booth. “Oh, I get that from my mom. She’s a badass. Her parents immigrated from India when they were twenty. My granddad went to med school, and my grandmother took care of the house and eventually my mom. Very typical of that generation of Indian migrants.”
Lexi’s face crinkled in confusion, and I couldn’t help but laugh again. “Are you confused because I’m the strangest-looking Indian you’ve met?”
My features were a mix of Chinese and Caucasian characteristics. Straight black hair (when it wasn’t dyed), almond-shaped eyes that narrowed slightly at the corners but with full eyelids, ivory skin, high cheekbones, a narrower nose with a higher bridge, and full lips.
Lexi winced. “Oh, shit. Sorry. I have the worst poker face.”
“People are always confused. I don’t blame them. I’d be confused too.” I smiled, letting the moment pass. “My biological parents were mixed race, White and Chinese. I’m just a muddle of gene pools.”
“How old were you when you were adopted?” Lexi asked, trying to piece it together.
“When I was a baby,” I said, shrugging. “My mom was single and a workaholic and wasn’t sure she’d ever meet someone, and she really wanted a child. She’s this amazing neonatal ICU doctor, and I guess it was fate, because one day a baby was left in her NICU, and she fell in love. And that baby was me.”
“That’s such a beautiful story,” Lexi said softly.
“Anyway,” I said, feeling a little lighter. “Enough about me. How about we take a shot and forget all about work?”
“Now you’re talking!” Lexi grinned, raising her glass, and we clinked.
I liked Lexi, but I also had ulterior motives for inviting her out for drinks. Like finding out why the hell Derrick freaked out earlier. I had a feeling Lexi knew something. She had been very cryptic when I mentioned my joke about his sex life.
The last time I had drinks with her, she had gotten very chatty, so I was hoping I could divine out of her what she knew about Derrick.
Because he was definitely keeping something secret.