Chapter 20 Lincoln
Lincoln
The door opened without a knock, the smell of rich coffee preceding Carmen’s entrance to the lounge. Her braid was swinging in time to her hips, and she wore a beaming look in her eyes that told me she was enjoying this way too much.
She discreetly held up a folded napkin, treating it as contraband. “Fresh delivery from your favorite marketing strategist. Delivered by me. Hopefully, I’ve earned favorite ‘something’ status.” Carmen punctuated the title with air quotes.
I didn’t even pretend to be too cool to care about what the pretty girl had written. My hands were already out. “Give it.”
She passed it over, grinning. I unfolded it and read, all caps, all attitude: ALL I CAN DO IS ADMIT I DON’T HATE YOU.
Something stupidly warm cracked open in my chest. I’d been hit by a car, had my ribs fractured, had stitches without anesthetic, and forgotten a good decade of my life …, but somehow, a napkin gutted me harder than all that.
Carmen perched on the edge of the table, watching me from her front-row seats to my unraveling. “So, lover boy, what’s the comeback?”
I grabbed a pen and leaned over the table, the napkin under my hand. My pulse was thudding in my ears, part adrenaline, part something softer I didn’t want Carmen privy to.
“Let’s see …,” I said, dragging the pen slowly, pretending I was thinking instead of stalling.
She craned her neck. “This better be good. She practically gift-wrapped you an opening.”
“Shut up, Carmen. Let me think.”
“Advice?”
Unsure, I nodded.
“Make it count.”
I arched my eyebrow.
Carmen shrugged. “Were you hoping for something more constructive? I’m sorry, I flirt like a grown up, sexual innuendos and all. Not this teen crap or whatever this is.”
I inhaled and decided to up the stakes. By the end of the business day tomorrow, I probably won’t be allowed back here.
I wrote: “I’ll just keep climbing the corporate ladder of your affections, one rung at a time. Whatever’s coming next, every bit of it, is for you. Try to trust me, yeah?”
Then I sat back, capped the pen, and Carmen read it over my shoulder.
She made a gagging noise. “That’s awful.”
“Better that way, anyway. It’s not like I have the slightest chance.”
Carmen’s eyes crinkled, and I braced for the hit of her words. “You’re right. My brother’s keeping her busy.”
I tilted my head and squared my shoulders, jealousy joining the coiling rage threatening to snap into words behind my vocal cords. “Guess he’s a slow learner if he needs that much of her time,” I said.
Her smirk didn’t falter, but her tone turned steel. “Or maybe you’re the slow learner, Carter. Since he is seeing her tonight and you have a date with your hand and regret.”
I rubbed a hand over the back of my neck. She was right. I’d been a slow learner. “Tomorrow the shitshow starts.”
Her smile faded. “You mean the—”
“Yeah.” I flicked a finger at the Post-its covering the wall. The one that sat dead center made my stomach turn every time I looked at it: LINCOLN AND NATASHA LIED.
They deleted Nina Reyes’s strategy and got her fired.
Lincoln went with it because he’s an insecure asshole.
Natasha couldn’t handle Lincoln wanting to fuck someone else.
It was crude, but it was exactly right.
Carmen followed my gaze and winced. “Curt downloaded that file on his phone?”
“Locked and loaded,” I said. “Our boy should have paid attention on that HR training against phishing. You still won’t tell me?”
Carmen shook her head. “It’s not about Infinity Weddings. You sound way too calm about this,” she said, crossing her arms.
I shrugged, leaning back in the chair until it creaked. “What do you want me to do? Panic? Lash out? I’ve done all of that.”
“You like this job.”
“Yeah, well …” I tapped the edge of Nina’s napkin, still sitting in front of me. “I like her better.”
That shut her up for a second.
“She’s not going to throw herself at you, you know.”
I laughed, humorless. “You think I don’t know that? She doesn’t owe me shit, Carmen. There’s a lot I can’t fix or undo, but this …”
Carmen’s face softened. “You really don’t care if this blows up in your face, do you?”
I dragged a hand through my hair, then dropped my head back against the chair. The fluorescent light hummed overhead, the kind of sound that made you grind your teeth if you stayed quiet too long.
“I care about a lot of things less than I used to. As long as she’s okay, I can deal with whatever’s coming.”
Carmen hopped off the table and took the napkin from me. “Alright. Tomorrow, we clean up some of what’s wrong with this fucking company.”
“Then we go after her aunt, uncle, and fucking Vinny.”
She snapped a picture with her phone. “Deal.”
I watched her go, then turned back to the wall of notes. The first note I’d written started as a joke, but surrounded by all the other ones, it was more a graveyard and a joke. And that one in the center was my own headstone.
Tomorrow was going to be hell. But tonight, I had her words in all caps, ink pressed into cheap paper like a brand. And for now, that was enough to keep me breathing.
I stood outside the large conference room, waiting my turn during the emergency board meeting.
They were pulling some shitty power play about purposefully making me wait even though it was ten minutes past the start time.
I honestly didn’t think they’d invite the board.
I thought they’d try to keep it as under wraps as possible.
What-the-fuck-ever. The more people who learned about this, the better.
I’d gotten the ball rolling. I wasn’t going to stop it now.
A gray wash blurred the inside of the room, but the glass still reflected my own smirk.
The pink polo, the lukewarm coffee. It helped keep me grounded in the time I’d spent with Nina, and, as a plus, it doubled as my own private middle finger to this place.
Lee had cracked a Mean Girls joke the first time I showed up in pink on a Wednesday.
He stopped laughing when I wore it every day.
Click, click, click. I recognize the slow deliberate tempo of Natasha’s heels.
I didn’t have to turn to know it was her.
She wore a business skirt that would have made Ally McBeal’s outfits look conservative.
As she came to stand next to me, she slid her hand down my arm.
She hadn’t gotten the memo the ten times I’d ignored her asking me out to lunch, but she’d get it now.
“Lincoln,” she purred.
“Get your hands off me, Natasha.”
She pouted and pressed herself against me. I sidestepped, peeling her off me. Nausea crawled up my throat. The memory of slapping Natasha’s ass assaulted me. On the same damn carpet, in the same spot where I’d sat with Nina telling her things about my mom I’d never said out loud before.
“Come on, Linc,” Natasha whispered, low and breathy. I supposed she was trying sensual, but it was utterly revolting. “You used to ask for my hands on you.”
“No. I used to ask for your hands and knees on the floor so I wouldn’t have to look at your face while I fucked you.”
Her chin dipped slightly, crocodile tears gathering in the corner of her eyes, a hand cupping her chest.
“Oh, cut it out, Natasha.”
She pouted and crossed her arms under her breasts, still close enough that I had to lean back so she wouldn’t brush against my elbow. “Have you seen the note that someone wrote about us in the staff lounge?”
I nodded. “I’ve been called into the board meeting.” I waited for panic to flare in her eyes before adding, “Wonder what they’re gonna talk to me about. Can’t be a coincidence, right?” I smirked, enjoying her uneasiness.
She recovered quickly, batting her eyelashes at me before giving me a flirty smile. “I talked to the CEO about it already.” I stepped farther away so she wouldn’t tap my arm. “You’re welcome.” With that, she turned her back to me and walked away.
“You’re not talking to them?” I flung the words at her retreating back, louder than I intended.
She turned her head over her shoulder. “That won’t be necessary. You shouldn’t worry about it either.” She winked at me, a smile showing her white teeth against her dark-red lipstick. “This is all just a stupid formality.”
I stared as she turned around the corner into the main office space.
“What was that all about?”
Carmen’s voice came from behind me. She was leaning against the frame, her arms crossed, hair swept over one shoulder. All the pretense of casualness, but the tightness of her jaw gave her away.
“I have no idea,” I said, moving around the bench alongside the wall to lean next to her. My shoulder brushed the doorframe, mirroring her stance. “Doesn’t sound good.”
Carmen gave a half shrug, one corner of her mouth twitching. “Told you she wouldn’t let this stand.”
I didn’t answer. Natasha’s feelings didn’t matter.
What mattered was fixing the shit I’d made worse by getting Nina’s name cleared so every agency in the city knew they’d be lucky to have her.
The memory of running my mouth about Nina’s work ethic clawed at my gut, sharp and deep.
Another dick move on my pile of regrets.
“Have you met the board members before?” Carmen asked.
I shook my head.
“Be careful with Sylvain,” Carmen said, finally straightening. “Black hair, shaved sides, long on top. He’s chief account officer or some shit. Nepotism hire. Curt’s little spawn.”
“Careful how?”
She pursed her lips, arms tightening across her chest. Her boots scuffed the floor as she shifted on her feet.
“He went to Stevenson. When you graduated, it became his little playground.” A shaky exhale slipped out before she caught it.
“He made dumping sweaty water and jockstraps on girls look like an affectionate hug.”
The moths scratched at my insides again; guilt and shame simmering inside me in equal measure ‘til anger took over, burning straight up my spine. “Did he hurt people?”