Chapter 8
LAWSON
Serelle’s apologetic smile alternates between me and Satan’s Little Helper to my right. Who currently smells like apples and strawberries with a hint of something heady I can’t place. Her hair is twisted up, her red lipstick like a fucking stop sign.
Like I need a reminder.
Her personality is enough to repel the most desperate of men.
Okay . . . that’s probably a little harsh.
“What do you mean, one of us goes?” Lamont bites out, her face stone as she pins her boss, nonetheless, with a glare.
Nope, I was right the first time. It’s her, not us.
My mother would be telling me to look at the bigger picture here, give her the benefit of the doubt, and see the situation from where she’s coming from. Not today, Ma.
“To clarify, the contract from the city that funds our executive program doesn’t cover the cost of two wages after the Christmas period. So, as of January first, the glass corner office will be one of yours. Solely.”
“And just how are you going to determine who stays and who doesn’t?” Lamont says, her grip around the arm of her chair tense.
I’m worried, sure. But I’m obviously better at rolling with the punches.
“Whoever makes the biggest impact stays.” Serelle’s gaze doesn’t meet either of ours.
“So, I have around three months to make a difference?” Lamont rephrases the statement as question.
“Yes, that’s correct.” Serelle is game enough—or professional enough, I should say—to meet her gaze now.
“Fine. I assume there will be a three-month review, regardless?” Lamont adds.
“Yes, also correct. And Carlie,” Serelle says, her face all empathy, “I know what this looks like. I am truly sorry. It was never my intention to reduce our exec team further. But funding is a citywide issue. We can only ask for our allotment each year, unless we have the man—sorry, person- or people-power to hedge a bigger project. With your background and experience, I’m sure you can understand that. ”
Curious just got curiouser.
Her background?
Is this a rags to riches thing?
“Not a problem, Serelle. Is that all you needed me for?” Lamont says, gathering up her phone and laptop.
“Yes, please don’t let me keep you from your work. Lawson, can I have a word?”
Lamont gives me the side-eye as she rises and leaves. To sit at the wonky desk I assume she put together after we all went home. Now the joke seems a little over the top, in light of the new situation.
She leaves Serelle’s office, tapping on her phone like it burns to the touch.
Serelle stands and shuts the door before pulling the chair beside me away a little and dropping into it, lacing her hands in front of her chest with a smile. “How are things going in the corner office?”
“Fine. We’re working on the last quarter numbers, planning and projecting accordingly.”
She offers up a tight smile before dropping her focus to her hands.
“It was brought to my attention yesterday that you and Carlie have a little history.” She sighs.
“Today feels like one constant apology, but I want you to know that we are all here to support you. I hired you both because of your talent in your respective areas. I really hope the situation at Carlson’s isn’t going to make your time here uncomfortable. ”
Her eyes are almost pleading.
She would have to be the most empathetic boss, leader, I’ve ever had the pleasure of working with.
She makes Carlson look truly hell-sent.
“We get along fine. I know she blames me for losing her career at Carlson’s. But I think this is a change we will thrive with.”
The second the words leave my mouth, I remember that one of us isn’t going to be staying.
Fuck.
“Please know, we would keep you both if we had the means to.”
“I’m sure you would. And this isn’t about either myself or Lamont—Carlie.” Her first name on my tongue feels strange. Too much. Too . . . familiar. “It’s about the women and girls you help every day.”
She gives me a scrunched-up smile and pats my hand as she rises. “Good to know. I’ll let you return to your day.”
“Thank you.”
She rounds the desk and sits behind it as she looks up. “You’re most welcome.”
If there was a person to win salt of the earth, best human on earth, it would be Serelle.
And damn if I don’t want to make sure I’m still working here, for her, at the end of the next three months. I wander back to the office to find Nadia waiting outside my door. Satan eyeballs her from behind her wonky glass desk, flipping a gold pen through her fingers.
I decide to put Nadia out of her misery. “Morning Nadia, what can I do for you?”
She chuckles and sweeps a stray curl of hair behind her ear and pushes her glasses up her nose. They’re new.
“You get glasses? Or am I the one who’s blind?”
Her body sways as she huffs a small sound and tugs her bottom lip through her teeth. “My contacts fell down a subway grate.”
“What? What happened?”
She waves a hand. “Oh no, nothing like that, I was trying to pull my purse out to pay for a hotdog and they flew out, case and all, and bounced over the metal and out of sight. It’s my fault really, I should be more organized. That bag of mine is so—”
The glass door opens, protesting with a whine from being hauled open too quickly. “If you are bored, Nadine, I can’t find a job for you. Rawlins, I need you in here.”
Nadia’s eyes widen as she turns, her movements stiff and mechanical. “Sorry, I just nee—”
Lamont raises an elegant eyebrow and tilts her head, as if sizing up her damn prey.
Nadia glances to me before lowering her eyes as she softly says, “The copier is jammed again. Could you help me, Lawson?”
Lamont folds her arms, her face settling to a stonelike facade.
“Sure, come on.” I take Nadia’s elbow, hoping to save her from whatever is about to spray from Satan’s Mistress’s pouty lips.
We reach the supply and copy room, and Nadia waves at the machine. “I don’t know why it hates me.”
I slide my hand under the lid and catch the lever, hauling the top up as she dives in, clawing the paper from the intake. Her heels screw into the carpet, making a groaning noise, her knee-length skirt slipping up as she leans in further.
She looks set to topple if she reaches much more.
I bend over the machine, trying to help her tug the wad of paper free. She glances at me, cheeks flushing as my hand bumps into the side of hers.
“Oh.” She jerks upward.
Something cracks and then she sways sideways. I pull my head out, finding the spike of her heel popping up from the carpet. Nadia clings to the machine. I try to steady her with a grip on her upper arm. My purchase on the lid slips and it slams down onto both of us.
“Dammit,” I grunt. Shouldering the machine off me, I manage to push it free and remove us from the deadly jaws of the ancient copier. Nadia leans on it, breathing heavily as she fixes her hair, managing to sweep toner over her neck and cheek.
I chuckle at her. For a second, mortification crosses her face, but a laugh bubbles free as she points to my face.
“What?” I swipe at my face.
“You have black, like all over you—”
“Well, isn’t this fucking cozy.” The hard words snap both of our attention to the doorway of the supply room. Lamont stands, hands on hips, with a scowl that could scare a war-ready Viking.
Sweet Jesus.
Nadia plucks her glasses from the shelf by the copier and slides them up her nose.
“The machine was jammed. Hold your fire,” I growl, taking a step toward her.
Both her brows rise as she looks at Nadia and spins on her heels.
Just great.
Today is one goddamn implosion after another.
“Sorry, Lawson.” Nadia hands me a Kleenex.
I wipe my face and toss it into the trash can. “It’s fine. I’ll handle her.”
I head for the door and make it one step out as a thought hits me. “Why can’t you ask Bob to help?”
Nadia’s face falls, her gaze hitting the floor. Her body tenses, and I’m hoping like hell the reason I’m guessing is not what she’s about to say.
“He makes me super uncomfortable. After the last time . . .”
“Last time?” I prompt, my HR intuition flaring back to life.
“I can’t talk about it,” she says, so damn quiet it takes me a while to understand the meaning.
Shit.
“Right, let me know if you need any help. Any time, okay?”
She nods, but her arms wrap around her body, as if she’s protecting herself against the very thought of needing to ask for help.
“You okay here?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
I hesitate, not wanting to leave her alone. Jesus, is nowhere safe anymore? I all but stalk my way back to the corner office.
I cross the threshold to I find Lamont leaning on her desk, legs crossed, arms folded over her chest. “Done so soon?”
God above.
I grind my molars, not bothering to look at her as I sink into my chair and fling my laptop open with so much force it shunts backward on the desk.
“What, no foreplay for me?” She stalks to my desk and slams her palms on either side of my laptop, leaning down.
I close my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose, biding my time, hoping the heat growing in my chest at her tone dissipates.
It doesn’t. The instant I open my eyes, she saunters away. Those hips, that ass taunting me as she flicks her long hair over one shoulder.
Wait . . . when did she take it down?
“Never mind. In a few measly months, you and Nancy will have to part ways, and she will be my copy bitch.”
I fly out of my chair so fast it topples over. Rounding the desk, I close the distance between us and fly into her space like it’s the last parking spot at the fucking Super Bowl. Tightness in my chest has me tugging at my tie, tilting my head as I glare at her.
“Watch that damn mouth of yours,” I growl.
Her brown eyes study my face as her lips part. When her gaze narrows, I know vitriol is about to spew from those red lips that have snagged my attention. “Rawlins, my mouth is none of your business. And unless you want to leave early with a sexual harassment charge, back the fuck up.”
“What cold part of hell did you crawl out of?” I hiss.
“Hot.”
I jerk my head back. “What?”
“Hell is hot, everyone knows that.”
“God, you are a child.”
“Takes one to know one.”
Fucking hell.
“I have work to do,” I say with a sigh and turn to make for my desk. It’s then I see the whole of the staff room staring at us. Their expressions range from stunned to amused and everything in between.
Something creaks behind me. I spin back, fully expecting something hard flying in the general direction of my head.
What I find is worse.
Lamont is sitting side saddle on the desk, her face enraptured by faux lust. “Oh Lawson, the copier needs you. Only you. Please, you have to help me.” Her hands work over her chest, up her neck as her head falls back, her eyes fluttering shut.
Something brown tweed and horrified moves to my left.
Nadia.
She-devil continues, “Ah . . . Oh, Lawso—”
“Enough!” I close the distance between us in two strides and haul her off the desk.
She slaps me. “Get your fucking hands off me!”
I dare a glance back at Nadia. The spot where she stood is now empty. Her hunched over figure hurries through the desks and down the hall.
I turn on Lamont. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”
“Me? You’re the one who is fraternizing with the subordinates. Making an idiot of yourself with your Mr. Goody Two-Shoes horseshit! If anyone needs a reality check, it’s you!”
The door opens. “Both of you. In my office. Now.” Serelle’s goodhearted smiles and gentle ways are nowhere to be found as she glares at me and then Lamont.
When neither of us responds, she snaps, “Move.”
Lamont jolts to life, her face turning from stunned to mortified in a heartbeat as she walks out of the office and holds her head high, drifting through the rows of our shocked peers. All except Bob, who, of course, has a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.
I pin him with my dirtiest look as I pass his desk.
Lamont won’t look at me when we sit in the chairs we were in only this morning.
Sweet Jesus, how quickly this day has turned to shit.
I rub a hand over my face and suck in a long, slow breath.
Serelle doesn’t sit. Instead, she wanders to her wall of treasures, pacing a small stretch of carpet as her expression moves through a thousand shades.
I lean forward and try to salvage this. “If I could—”
Serelle shakes her head viciously, flinging a hand up.
We wait with bated breath as she paces for a few more minutes. She stops abruptly and turns to face us. Lamont gasps, holding her breath.
We took it too fa—
“It is clear to me now that your history is more like a present issue.”
Lamont opens her mouth to respond, but Serelle glares at her. She shrinks back into her chair.
“The only way to sort through something like this is wade through it. Neither of you, from the intel I received, were given the opportunity to exercise your potential rights or legal options at Carlson’s. I blame that toxic environment for what is happening now.”
She moves to her seat and opens her laptop. Tapping on the keyboard, she cranes her neck and then taps the trackpad a few times. When she’s satisfied, she turns the computer around to face us.
“This here is your—our—solution.”
Lamont leans forward, studying the website. “It’s a resort.”
Her gaze flicks back to Serelle.
“Actually, it’s a retreat. My friend from college runs it.
Their programs are designed to target this sort of thing.
She owes me a favor, so it would be pro bono.
” Her attention alternates between us. “I want you to pack your bags. A week should be enough time to work through the baggage between the both of you.”
“With all due respect, Serelle, I can’t just up and leave. I have a dependent. I can’t leave her alone.”
It’s as if the oxygen has been sucked from the room.
I can’t force my stare from her as she keeps her gaze on Serelle.
Lamont has a kid?
How did I not know that?
Surely that would have been on her file at Carlson’s?
“This is nonnegotiable, Carlie. Same goes for you, Lawson. We need you at your best; this will make sure you can achieve that. You can take your work with you, if you’re worried about falling behind.
The activities that are hosted every day only take around four hours.
That leaves plenty of time to work and get to know each other better so we have the best versions of you both.
This constant war between the two of you stops now.
Honestly, it would have been easier if you were screwing . . .”
Lamont’s jaw drops, her eyes tight with disbelief.
That’ll be the day that ice woman here thaws long enough for a man to get close enough to—
“Now, get the hell out of my office. I’ll email the details within the hour. You leave Sunday.”
I rise from the chair and walk through the door, almost numb. It shuts behind me, and I hover a little as Lamont composes herself. “Carlie, I—”
“Don’t fucking talk to me.”
She stalks away, hips swaying, hands curling into fists.
It’s going to be a long damn week.