Chapter 3 #2
“Our reason for cake,” Lila said before turning on her heel and heading back to her desk.
Rachel cringed.
“Not that cake,” she whispered to Kell. “Are they serious about having a ceremony?”
“It’s an excuse to eat cake.”
“I think I’ll go out for lunch today,” she said.
“How’s your throat?” he asked with concern, noticing she was wearing a high-necked navy blouse with the buttons clasped all the way to the top.
Rachel touched the spot, then winced. “I have a bandage on it. It’s fine. Thanks for asking.”
“What about your phone? That screen totally shattered.”
“I’ll have a new one by the end of business today.”
“Wow! That fast?”
“My dad’s PA took care of it.”
“PA?”
“Personal assistant.”
Being a fellow at EEC had exposed him to peers who came from money, like Rachel and John. John’s was old Baltimore money, Rachel’s was new Hollywood money. Kell didn’t much see the difference: If you had a parent who could overnight you a new phone, you were loaded.
And loaded people lived really different lives.
The atmosphere in the office suddenly changed, backs straightening, people going silent, and Kell immediately knew why.
Their director, Karen Kowalski, had just arrived.
Karen was a tireless advocate for the planet, well connected and shrewd. She had perfectly cut ash-blonde hair, glasses that made her look like a prosecutor, and a penetrating gaze to match.
Kell also knew that being director of the D.C. branch of EEC was a stepping stone for her. She was gunning for director of the Natural Resources Defense Council one day.
And after that? The UN. Like Alissa, Karen was ambitious.
Karen headed for the coffee station. She paused at the display for Leo, then looked at Rachel.
“Never took you for a murderer,” she said, but she was smiling.
“Karen, I’ll pay for it,” Rachel began. “I’m so sorry. It’s hard to explain.”
A raised palm was Karen’s reply to Rachel.
“You don’t have to explain. I’ve seen the video.”
“Someone posted video?” Rachel gasped, then groaned. “That’s it. The minute my mother sees that, I’m so dead.”
“Why would your mother care?” Kell asked her. Everyone there knew who Portia Starman was and that she was Rachel’s mom, but he didn’t get why she’d worry so much about her mother seeing the footage. After all, she was an entertainer.
“Because if it goes viral, she’ll be jealous. She’ll be mad that more people are watching clips of me than of her,” Rachel groaned.
“Here.” Karen held out her phone for Rachel to watch.
Whoever took the video started at the moment cars began to honk.
Leo’s tail could be seen stuck in the spokes.
The pedicab lurched and Kell ran up to Rachel, moving behind her, clearly standing on the base of the tail, trying to protect her from choking.
Then he turned to her as the pedicab continued to pull, and slid her zipper down.
Whistles and cheers, “Hey, RED LACE!”, and other catcalls filled the air.
Rachel turned the phone away from her. “I’ve seen enough. Thanks.”
“At least your face isn’t shown. Leo’s head obscures it, then Kell’s chest as he holds you.”
“If that really goes viral, it’s NOT ME,” Rachel shouted, causing several staffers to stand and shut their doors.
Staffers had doors. The fellows all had cubicles.
“Ceremony, huh?” Karen read the announcement on the table. “Who’s officiating?”
“No one. It’s an informal sharing of grief,” Jonas said, deadpan.
“I’m an internet minister,” Karen said.
“Excuse me?” Kell thought he must have heard wrong.
“I’m ordained. Online. I can perform weddings, so I should be able to perform a funeral, too.” She began lifting the lid of the bakery box.
Before she could open it, Kell said, “You’re offering to officiate at Leo’s funeral? A funeral for a torn animal costume?”
Karen looked offended, and rightly so. Because this was insanely stupid.
“Of course I’m offering! It’s my sworn duty. I took a vow. And besides,” she said with a dramatic sniff, “Leo was a personal friend.”
Rachel’s long-suffering sigh vibrated throughout the room.
“I hate every single one of you,” she muttered before disappearing into the little shell of her cubicle.
“Good thing you’ve only got a month left, then,” Karen called out to her before giving Kell a friendly wink. “Someone’s crabby.”
“She’s been through a lot,” he said just as Alissa approached their conversation and snorted.
“Like what? Crossing traffic at the wrong time to tend to your hurt feelings?”
Kell took a long, deep breath, controlling his emotions before replying.
“Did you see her throat? The zipper was choking her. She was bleeding.”
Alissa’s expression turned from teasing to surprise, then something close to remorse as she glanced at Karen and back at him.
“No. Sorry. I didn’t realize that.”
“Did you call her to make sure she was okay?”
Alissa cut her eyes to Karen again as Kell’s heart sank.
She hadn’t.
She was the fellows’ supervisor but hadn’t even bothered, and now she was going to lie in front of their director to cover her butt.
“I texted her. She didn’t mention the injury.”
Karen frowned. “I’ll talk to her. We might have a Workman’s Comp issue here. Did she go to an urgent care center or an ER?” she asked Kell.
“No. Just needed to be cleaned up and put some antibiotic cream on it.”
“Any other injuries?”
“You’d have to ask her. I dropped her off at her apartment and left.”
“Did you go in?” Alissa asked. “Watch some of that dark, Scandinavian scandal crap you two like?”
“It’s called Nordic noir, and no.”
Karen watched them, her growing attention getting under Kell’s skin. Sparring with Alissa wasn’t new, but added to her recent distant behavior, and now these little jabs, he didn’t like how he felt.
“Alissa, we have that meeting at eleven about your job applications. Kell? How’re yours?”
“Fine. No offers yet, but the third interview for the L.A. job went well.”
“Great. Keep me posted.”
And with that, she walked toward Rachel’s desk with all the confidence a senior director possessed after seeing her staff organize a funeral for a dead costume.
“What’s wrong with you?” Alissa hissed after Karen was out of earshot. “You’re grumpy this morning.”
“Maybe I’d like to spend more time with my girlfriend.”
She softened, but that faraway look was in her eyes.
“I’m sorry. It’s so stressful, all these interviews.
And then the salamander project, and the pipeline issue in Maine.
” She gave him a squeeze on his arm. “Thank you for setting up that appointment for me to meet with your uncle next week.” She pulled him into a small alcove by the bathrooms and gave him a hug and a kiss.
On the cheek.
“You’re welcome. It’s no big deal.”
“What’re the chances that your uncle would be the commissioner of Maine’s Department of Agriculture, Forestry, and Conservation?”
He leaned down for a real kiss. “And that you’d be working on the Canada-Maine pipeline issue.”
Just as their lips were about to touch, a custodian appeared with a cart loaded with toilet paper, cleaning supplies, and various mops.
Alissa broke away and patted his hand.
“Later,” she promised.
It was always later these days.
For the next three hours, he busied himself with email, white papers, land-use surveys, and a lot of coffee.
Forcing the replay of yesterday's events out of his head was harder than it should have been. It was on a repeating loop: the image of Rachel stuck in the middle of the street; the panic that lasted a few seconds but felt like years; and how he’d unzipped the costume, revealing too little red lace and too much lush terrain.
He was more bothered than he had a right to be.
And way too attracted to Rachel Hart.
Deep in the zone, AirPods in and brain-focus music thrumming in his ears, he was startled when someone double-tapped his shoulder. He turned to find Jonas grinning at him.
“Got your eulogy ready for Leo?”
“You’re serious?”
“Of course we are. Poor lemur deserves all the honor he can get.”
“Don’t you think we’ve gone far enough? We have lunchtime cake. Most of you dressed in black–you look like the Addams family. Rachel’s sufficiently unamused.”
“Karen let us print up orders of service for the funeral.”
“You’re taking this way too far.”
Cackling laughter was all he got in response as Jonas moved on to Lila’s desk, the two suddenly snickering.
They were really going to do this. Hold a mock funeral for a piece of plush cloth with zippers.
When Kell told his family he was going into environmental policy, his eldest brother, Dennis, had made loud snoring noises.
His next eldest brother, Luke, told him that if he wanted to keep the environment clean, he should stay home in Maine and work on preserving open land.
His sister, Colleen, cheered him on and kept the other two in line, but questioned whether he could ever be contained in an office, working as a desk jockey instead of climbing trees.
At no point did he ever imagine that his serious and responsible job would include writing a eulogy for a PR animal character.
And he thought living in the world’s sappiest small town was bad.
His phone buzzed gently. He set it on vibrate every morning when he walked through the main doors at EEC, so it could be a call or a text.
Call. From his mom.
Being raised by Deanna Luview was a privilege, but it had its moments, too. If she was calling him during the workday, something wasn’t going right back home.
Kell stood quickly and walked over to one of the small privacy booths designed for this purpose, sliding in like Clark Kent. Except he wasn’t wearing a Superman suit under his clothes, and he certainly couldn’t fly.
Learned that the hard way when he was seven and tried to leap from one tree to another like a flying squirrel. Fortunately, young bones heal fast, and his radius was no worse for the wear.
“Hey, Mom, what’s up?”
“Kellan! Sorry to bother you at work.”
She used his full name. Bad sign.
“It’s okay.”