25. Rachel
25
RACHEL
T he rest of the weekend was awful.
I was so distracted during the bout on Saturday night that I caused my team to lose. My teammates were pissed. I'd been MIA all week, and then my distraction led to a loss.
My mind was wrapped around what happened with Derrick. My run-in with him felt like a disconcerting dream with Picasso edges that didn't make sense.
Monday morning, I woke up at the ass-crack from a weird dream. Only fragments remained—a tunnel, Derrick in the darkness calling out my name, erotic undertones, someone screaming at me. I woke up feeling odd and unsettled.
I couldn't go back to sleep after that, so I slipped on my skates and headed for the path along the East River to shake out the strange feelings that clung to me from that dream.
It was surreal being out so early. I didn't know Manhattan had another life before seven. The early morning risers either had no choice—bleary-eyed parents pushing strollers or dog owners waiting for their pets to do their business—or they were insane: the runners, power walkers, and cyclists.
And my favorite. The walk of shamers. Or, as I liked to think when I was one of them, the walk of slayed it, cause there ain't no shame in having sex.
There was a strange stirring in my gut that I couldn't shake, and I realized it was fear. I was scared to see Derrick today. His teasing Saturday night had put me on unsteady footing, the power dynamic shifting, and it unsettled me.
Derrick had basically said he'd fire me if I didn't show up today, so practicality won, and after a quick breakfast and shower, I headed over to the office, a knot of dread churning in my belly.
When I stepped off the elevator, I nearly collided with Lexi and Peyton.
"You're here," Lexi said, surprised. "I thought you quit. I left you a bazillion messages last week."
I flinched, guilt washing over me. "I'm so sorry," I said. It was uncomfortable being scolded by my colleague, but Lexi had every right. It was way uncool how I disappeared for a week.
"I had some family stuff and..." I scrambled for an explanation. "I handled it horribly."
Lexi sighed, tapping her fingernail on the coffee mug in her hand. "I get it. But you have to communicate and make arrangements if something comes up. Otherwise, the shit you're dealing with sprays on everyone else."
"Gross." Peyton pulled a disgusted face.
"Derrick basically said the same thing." I walked with them into the open office. "I swear, I won't do it again."
Lexi exhaled and exchanged a look with Peyton. "Look, I'm not your keeper. And I'm not your boss. But that wasn't cool." Her face softened. "I'm guessing you don't have a ton of corporate or office experience, correct?"
I nodded, tensing as she continued to gently scold.
"This isn't a come and go at your leisure kind of place," Peyton said. "It's relaxed for sure, but not when it comes to work ethics. I'm glad Derrick's giving you a second chance, but most places would've fired you."
"I know," I said, and I meant it. I felt like a child, but it was my fault. I acted sophomoric. "It was stupid."
Peyton snorted a laugh. "You're not stupid. You're inexperienced and a little naive."
I pulled my chin back, prickled by her words.
"I mean when it comes to this job. Like Lexi said. You're super smart, sharp as a—" Peyton looked at Lexi for the word.
"Nail?" Lexi mused.
"Knife?" Peyton tried.
"Tack," I supplied.
"Right. And you get your work done without complaint. A lot of the younger employees need to be coddled. All those damn helicopter parents." Peyton glanced at Lexi again. My mom wasn't a helicopter parent, but I didn't correct her.
We walked into the smaller podcast studio where Lexi liked to work when no one was recording, and I plopped myself into a seat.
"My ass is gonna be nailed to this chair for the next eight hours," I promised.
"Great. I've sent you the list of tasks to catch up on from last week and anything urgent for this week," Lexi said, opening her laptop.
I took a deep breath and dove in, relieved to be back in the fold.
* * *
It was refreshing to have a pile of work to occupy my cluttered brain space. My mind didn't have time to think about Derrick or my mom or my grandfather or my dead bio mom. Oh my.
I plowed through the tasks, responding to emails, scheduling social media posts for the various hosts, and brainstorming new content ideas to send to Peyton. When I finally came up for air, it was after lunch and I'd barely dwelled on a certain tattooed, bearded, and sultry ex-detective.
Lexi and Peyton had left for lunch an hour ago, and I debated seeking out Derrick and apologizing again for my behavior last week, but there was a wild flutter in my belly at the thought of seeing him. Not uncomfortable, exactly, but strange.
I could still hear the echoes of my name as he shouted it in what I was sure was him reaching his climax. Heat flushed between my thighs every time I replayed it. He said he did it to mess with me...but I found that dubious. He didn't like games.
My stomach grumbled, and I went to the break lounge and snatched an energy bar from the basket of complimentary snacks. As I chewed the nut and chocolate protein bar, I scrolled through the Dreamary social media accounts, checking engagement rates and looking for areas of improvement. No one had asked me to do this, but I was curious, and it could help with content creation.
That's when I noticed something odd. Derrick's podcast, Missing Girls , hadn't posted any content in weeks. No teasers or clips from past shows, not even a "we're on hiatus" post. The lack of social engagement was concerning, but I didn't want to bother Peyton with it, and Analise was still out of town. I needed to speak to him directly.
At his closed door, I knocked, my heart hammering in my chest. "Hey, Boss? You got a minute?" I said through the closed door.
There was a muffled response from the other side, and I took that as my cue to enter. But as I pushed open the door, I froze, my eyes widening in shock.
What the hell?
Sitting across from Derrick's desk was my mother. I blinked, wondering if this was a mirage.
They both looked up mid laugh and clamped their mouths shut when they saw me.
"Rachel." My mom stood, her stunned expression turning into a smile. I was speechless for a moment, a rarity.
"What are you doing here, Amma?" I asked, my voice tight. I didn't know who was to blame for this little ambush, but I was suddenly furious at them both.
My mother sighed and stepped toward me. "I've been trying to reach you for a week, Rachel. You weren't answering your phone, and you weren't at your apartment. Work was the next logical place."
"I'll go." Derrick stood up from behind his desk. "You two obviously need to talk."
"We're good," I said, crossing my arms and flicking my gaze to my mother. "You wanted to check I was alive. Well, here I am. You can go now."
My mother frowned. "I need to talk to you about your grandfather."
"I'll leave." Derrick scooted toward the door. "You can use my office as long as you need."
"Don't you dare," I said, fuming. "You're not slinking off. You've been a part of this since the beginning, and you should hear how my mother has been conniving behind my back."
"Rachel!" my mother said, distressed.
"Er, I think this is a private matter." Derrick ducked his head and reached for the door handle.
"Oh, I think we're way beyond private." I cast a steely glare at Derrick. "Sit down. You're facing whatever my mom has to say along with me."
Derrick glanced at the door.
"Sit," I growled.
He did. Then I faced my mom and waited.