Hands at Ten and Two, Eyes to Yourself #2
The place looked shockingly bad. I mean, I’d always known the house was a little worse for wear—a two-story built in the thirties, with peeling paint and a porch that sagged like a hammock—but seeing it now, through an adult’s eyes, it appeared practically condemned.
The front steps were caving in, one window was covered with what looked like a trash bag, the yard hadn’t been mowed since, what, last summer?
The truck hit the gravel of Buddy’s driveway, causing both of us to lean forward instinctively.
The phone vibrated in my hand a second time, the name Janine pulsing insistently on the screen.
For a split second, I considered shoving the phone into the glove compartment and pretending it hadn’t happened, but my thumb betrayed me, pressing Accept with a reflex born of years of professional Pavlovian response.
“Hey, Janine,” I said, pitching my voice into what I hoped was a cordial, in-control tone not a stressed-out, panicked tone.
“Hi! Hi. How are you?” she demanded, with all the subtlety of an air raid siren.
“Great. Fine,” I replied, the lie tripping off my tongue with ease.
“Sadie, I know you’re dealing with family stuff, but I really need you here. I’ve had Raul, Mallory, and Star asking for approvals, clients are getting restless, and Finch is sniffing around like a shark in chummed water—”
I cut her off. “Janine, I’ll be back when I can. Until then, please postpone everything. As far as the team just have them email me.”
Raul, Mallory and Star were all Jr. Associates on my team.
I knew they were capable, they were just terrified of Arthur Collins, the owner of the firm.
That fear tended to affect their creativity.
When I was there, they didn’t have to worry about any backlash because I took the hits if Arthur wasn’t pleased with any work.
Janine inhaled sharply. “When you say postpone, do you mean, like… a day? A couple days? Or are we blowing up the schedule for the rest of the week?”
“Assume the worst,” I said, and instantly regretted the phrase. “Sorry. I mean, clear my calendar for the week.”
The sigh she emitted could have powered a wind turbine. “Sadie, you know how the clients are. They need their hands held, personal attention, they want to feel like you work for them twenty-four-seven and they are you’re only client.”
It was ridiculous because it was true. I almost laughed. Instead, I picked a piece of lint off my sleeve and tried to keep my voice steady. “Just tell them I’m on bereavement.”
No one could be upset if I were on bereavement.
There was a beat of silence. “Is it actually bereavement?”
“No, Buddy’s alive. He’s in the hospital, but… I’m just not available.”
The silence expanded, thick and uncomfortable.
For all Janine’s neuroses and shark-like energy, she was loyal, and she had stuck her neck out for me more than once.
I could picture her at her desk, glasses perched on her nose, hair pulled into a high, angry bun, fretting the cuticle of her thumb as she tried to calculate how much trouble I was creating for her.
“What? What is it?”
“Finch is sniffing around the Fairfield account.”
“Of course he is.” It was a huge client. I’d worked my ass off to sign them, but they did require a ton of handholding. If they decided to jump ship to him because I was off for a week, then so be it. I wasn’t going to sit here and stress over my accounts being poached. I had enough on my plate.
Janine lowered her voice. “I heard he’s taking Sterling out for drinks.”
Terrance Sterling was the head of marketing for Fairfield Global.
“If they would be more comfortable with him, then he should be their agent.”
The disapproval of my attitude was blaringly evident in Janine’s silence. I was just about to say that I’d talk to her later when she asked, “Hey, has Peter called you? He stopped by the office earlier today.”
I gritted my teeth, feeling every one of them buzz like an electric fence as my entire body tensed. “He did?”
“Yeah, he was trying to charm me into telling him where you were.”
Dawson glanced over at me, reading my face with the same uncanny skill he’d always had, even when we were kids and I thought I had a poker face, he could tell if I was upset. I ignored his stare, pretending nothing was wrong.
“Thanks for the heads-up.” I tried to nip the conversation in the bud.
“Do you want me to run interference? I can tell him in no uncertain terms to back off.”
Janine was a pit bull, she was a true ride-or-die, she was the sort of assistant that went to bat for you even when you told her it wasn’t her game to play and she should just sit in the stands drinking a beer and eating a hot dog.
But I didn’t need her to fight this battle for me. “No, let’s not escalate it. I’ll handle it.”
Janine made an “mmm” noise that implied she did not have faith in my ability to “handle it,” but she would let it go for now. “Okay. Call if you change your mind about Finch or Peter. I’ll burn this place to the ground if it comes to that.”
I couldn’t help but grin at her blind and unwavering loyalty and enthusiasm. “I don’t think it will, but thanks, Janine. Bye.”
The call disconnected as Dawson pulled to a stop, the tires eating up the gravel.
I glanced around and realized that besides the farmhouse, the structures on Buddy’s property were a collection of random outbuildings, fences, and ancient, weathered decks stitched together by the kind of improvisational carpentry that only octogenarian men or possum colonies could fully appreciate.
The front yard was a tangle of blackberry brambles and dandelions in full Jurassic bloom, and the porch roof listing so heavily to one side it looked ready to give up and topple into the dirt.
As we got out, I saw that the blue trim I’d always loved had faded to the color of a bruise.