Chapter Nine #2
“Lauryn Harper,” I interrupt, stepping on Randy’s shoe. He frowns at me, and I widen my eyes in a warning before turning back to Janet with a too-big smile.
“Lauryn Harper,” Janet murmurs, going down the list. “ Oh .” She stops suddenly, her head snapping up. “You’re the one we…transferred. Dan told me.”
My hands start to fidget at the reminder. She could act a little less like I’m wanted for murder. Though I guess that’s not too far off from what Dan has probably told her. “Yes.”
She studies me carefully. “Are you feeling okay?”
“ Yes . It was a misunderstanding.”
She gives an unconvinced hum. “Is that your purse?”
I follow her gaze to the compact black bag hanging on my shoulder. “Yep.” A long pause unfolds as she stares at it. I imagine she’s weighing the odds that I’ve brought a weapon with me, now that I’m on record as an attempted CEO murderer. “Do you…want to go through it?”
She blinks once, twice, then shakes her head. “No, of course not.” Janet crosses my name off the list and gestures for me to enter the ballroom. I hesitate, casting an uncertain glance at Randy. I can’t abandon him here.
“Name?” Janet prompts him. Randy opens his mouth, then closes it.
I move between them and shove my purse at Janet.
She takes a step back, and my purse lands on the table in front of her.
“I’d feel better if you took a look,” I say.
“I couldn’t enjoy my night if you thought I was up to anything weird.
Here, please.” I make a show of unzipping it, and I push it toward her with just enough force that both the purse and the list underneath fall to the floor. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” I exclaim.
I bend down and snatch the list before Janet can get it.
She gingerly picks up my purse, along with the spare tampon and half-empty package of tissues that fell out of it.
I scan the front of the list, desperately searching for a male name I can latch onto.
The first one I see is Ron Barker, and I have no idea who that is or whether Janet knows him, but it hasn’t been crossed off yet, so it’s the best hope we’ve got.
“That’s all right,” Janet says with a nervous titter.
She places the tampon and tissue pack back in my purse, taking a few seconds longer than necessary.
When she seems to feel that there isn’t a weapon hiding at the bottom, she breaks into a relieved smile and hands it back to me.
“I don’t need to go through it, but it was kind of you to offer. Have a wonderful night.”
My smile stretches my face, wide and saccharine.
“Thank you. I’ll wait for you to check in my friend.
Ron Barker.” I hoist my purse over my shoulder and toy with the strap as Janet looks Randy up and down.
I silently will Ron Barker to have a forgettable face, to do mediocre work, to have given Janet absolutely no reason to know he exists.
“Of course,” Janet says easily. She strikes his name off the list, and we’re free. Randy and I speedwalk our way inside the ballroom and immediately dodge to the right, out of Janet’s sight. He lets out a sigh of relief. I sink my back into the wall and let my tense muscles relax.
“Quick thinking,” Randy says.
“It got the job done,” I say with a satisfied nod. “But I have no idea who Ron is or when he’ll show up, so…we should act fast.”
Randy sets off in search of his old coworkers.
I stay where I am for a minute, surveying the room.
As usual, this large ballroom is the picture of elegance.
Cream-colored tablecloths are draped over round tables, a vase of fresh flowers in the center of each one.
People wearing sharp blazers or silky blouses congregate around the open bar at the back of the room, or they sit at tables making conversation.
Hotel staff dressed in black and white circle the room with trays of appetizers.
I take a shot glass of crab bisque when it’s offered to me and sip on it, savoring the velvety texture and sweetness of fresh crab as I search the room for Amanda.
“Hi.” Marina sidles up next to me in a way I don’t expect.
People always seem to gravitate toward my deaf side in social situations, requiring me to do gymnastics to subtly reposition myself to get them on the side of my hearing ear, all while nodding politely to garbled gibberish.
But Marina comes right up to my hearing side in a way that I don’t think is coincidence.
She used to tell me I basically trained her that way, how in those early days when we’d walk to our third-grade classroom together, half the time she’d turn to see that I’d disappeared, only to appear suddenly on her right.
It wasn’t long before she memorized what side she needed to be on to negate the need for my stealthy maneuver.
As soon as she figured it out, she always made sure to be on my hearing side.
In a world where I always have to make the extra step just to hear people, where I’m always the one switching places, changing sides, craning my neck for scraps of sound, seeing Marina take that work upon herself felt so freeing.
Like I could just be , and she would move her world around to accommodate me.
I don’t have a lot of people in my life like that now—except maybe Selma, who does check with me about what side she should sit on before she takes a seat, when she remembers. It’s just not as deeply ingrained in her like it was (or still is?) with Marina. I push the thought down.
“Hi,” I greet her back. “How’s it going?”
“Good so far. Arun and Tessa are chatting up some people. Jen’s still circling around. I haven’t had to whip out the sad eyes yet.”
“That’s a superpower you should conserve, anyway,” I joke, and she surprises me with a small laugh. A server passes by carrying a tray loaded with coconut shrimp. He pauses to offer us some. I take one, but Marina declines.
“I guess now I know why Ryser couldn’t restore Greenstead,” she says. “They need to pay for seven tons of coconut shrimp for their stupid awards night.”
The remark digs at me, but not enough that I feel bad about holding one of the offending appetizers. “Honestly, it might be worth it. They’re amazing.” I shove it in my mouth, bite off the tail, and face Marina, chewing obnoxiously.
Marina gapes, and I worry she might take my joking remark the wrong way, but she just laughs, louder this time, and I smile even with my mouth full. It can’t be a pretty sight, but she’s seen me do worse.
Just then, I see a familiar figure in a flowy black dress pass us and head toward the bar. Her hair is short and dark, just like Amanda’s. I watch her back as she speaks with the bartender. When she turns around, a clear drink in her hand, I straighten.
“What?” Marina says.
“That’s my boss.”
“ Oh .” Marina glances from me to Amanda, then back to me. “Shouldn’t you…go talk to her?”
I rotate the plastic cup of crab bisque in my hand. I know I should approach Amanda, but I can’t seem to move my feet. The memory of sitting in her office, hearing her demote me, and being struck with powerlessness pops vividly into my mind.
Amanda crosses the room with her drink. A server offers her a tray of canapés. She takes one and stands alone, chewing and sipping, easily approachable. But Janet’s expression crops up in my mind next, that bewildered shock and concern. Like I was erratic, unpredictable, something to be feared.
I don’t want to see that on Amanda. I don’t want a repeat of what happened in her office. I need her to see that I’m capable, reasonable, and—ideally—fully deserving of getting my old job back.
And I need her to give me ten thousand dollars. Can’t forget that.
I bolt down the last of the crab bisque from my cup like it’s a shot of whiskey. “I am,” I say to Marina. “I’m going now.”
Amanda’s checking her phone now, the canapé long gone, and it’s not until I get within a foot of her that she looks up and startles. Recognition flashes in her eyes. How wonderful that deer-in-headlights is my default greeting from Ryser folks now.
“Lauryn, hi,” she says. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Yeah,” I say with an awkward laugh that I hope sounds more carefree than hysterical. “I got the reminder email yesterday, and I thought, why not?”
“Oh,” Amanda says again, this time drawn out with a hint of suspicion. “It’s good to see you.” Her remark doesn’t quite end in a question, but it’s not entirely a statement either. “How have you been?”
“Good,” I say, if only because it’s what people say. “How about you?”
“Oh, the usual.”
It’s a little insulting that she’s down one of her best employees and yet life is the usual , but it’s fine.
“How are things in Greenstead?” Amanda asks, after taking a long drink.
“Lovely,” I say, repeating the word she’d used to describe it during the demotion. But if she picks up on the reference, she doesn’t let on. She just gives me another placid smile and looks around the room as if hoping an escape portal might materialize.
“I love bruschetta,” Amanda says, stepping around me to wave down a passing server. I grab one off the tray too, to have something to do.
But now that she’s moved, Amanda is standing on my deaf side. Which she should know; I’ve told her about this several times. But it’s always me who has to do the maneuvering to hear her.
I start the process by taking a step to the side, but then she says something I don’t quite catch and pulls up a chair at the nearest table. The seat on her right is taken by a purse, so I reluctantly take the chair on her left, putting her once again beside my deaf ear.
She takes a large bite from her bruschetta. This seems like the best opening I’ll probably have.