“I, uh… We were…” I cleared my throat. “He just had a question for me about—”
“A question? About what?” He stepped closer, invading my personal space enough to raise my hackles.
I thought as quickly as my tired brain could think. “He wanted to know about—”
“Mr. McNeill.” He pushed out a sharp breath. “I don’t need to tell you how important it is that we keep Horizon Developing happy. That’s why everything Rick Pierce or Dion want to know needs to go through a properly informed liaison. Am I clear?”
I was too tired to argue, and fatigue had eroded my internal censor just enough that “I’ll talk to the man I’m fucking whenever I choose” was a bit too close to the tip of my tongue. “Sorry, sir. I’ll refer him to you next time.”
“Good.” He clapped my shoulder. Don’t touch me, motherfucker. “How are those projects coming along?”
“Getting there. Should have one more done before close of business today. The next within ten days.”
“Excellent. Keep up the good work.”
“Thanks.”
On my way back to the NSFW Zone, I ground my teeth. Though I supposed it wasn’t entirely a bad thing that he’d pissed me off—seething anger was more effective than a 5-Hour Energy spiked with speed, so I was actually awake now.
Being awake meant I could work. Working meant getting done. And getting done meant being with Rick.
Soon. God, please, soon.
*
Irritation kept me going for a couple of hours. A nap followed by a metric fuckload of caffeine carried me for a couple more. After another dinner from a machine—if I never saw another Dorito again, it would be too soon—I threw back a 5-Hour and settled in to get back to work.
I opened a tube of glue, and the fumes smacked me in the face. My eyes watered and my head spun. Cursing, I rubbed my eyes with my other hand. I was used to the potent glue fumes, but fatigue made me more sensitive to them, and they compounded the headache that had already set up shop between my temples.
I put the cap on the glue, then went to my desk. I rested my elbows beside my keyboard and rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands. Just one or two more days, and this would be over. The throbbing behind my eyes dulled slightly, but when I opened them, it intensified all over again. So I closed them. Folded my arms on the desk. Rested my head on my arms. Just for a few…
“Jon?”
Blinking, I raised my head.
“You okay?” Marie asked.
I nodded and leaned back in my chair, twisting a crick out of my neck and rubbing my eyes with my thumb and forefinger. “Just tired.”
“So go home and get some sleep.”
I scratched my stubbled jaw. I’d grabbed another shower and a change of clothes a few hours ago, along with a much-needed shave, but the five-o’clock shadow was already creeping back in. As was any exhaustion I might have cured with my little catnap.
How long was I out anyway?
I looked around, trying to find the clock. The clock that was in the same place it always was. Christ, I’d been out for an hour and a half. No, half an hour. Right?
Marie gave me a pointed look. “Jon, you need to go home and get some rest.”
“But I have got to finish this thing.” I yawned and rubbed my eyes.
“Are you okay to drive?”
I sighed. “Probably not.”
“Then you have no business anywhere near this model.”
“I’m fine.” I cocked my head. “What are you doing here this late, anyway?”
“You’re not the only one burning the midnight oil these days, you know. I was actually just about to head home, but I thought I’d check on you.”
I offered a sheepish look. “And you busted me asleep at the switch.”
She laughed. “After this long, you were bound to crash eventually. Need some coffee?” It was funny how she could be such a ball-buster—she had to be in this place—but actually had a compassionate side. God help her if the partners ever realized she secretly treated us like human beings sometimes.
I stretched my sore arms. “I don’t think cocaine would even wake me up at this point, but yeah, I could—”
“What you need is sleep.” She nodded toward the door. “Come on. I’ll drive you home.”
“I’ll be fine. I’m almost done.”
“Jon, if you push yourself much further, you’re going to start hallucinating.”
There was no point in protesting. I was surprised I hadn’t started hallucinating, so I stood and pulled my jacket off the back of my chair. The simple act of putting it on took more effort than usual. The jacket suddenly weighed fifty pounds. Damn, I am tired.
Marie was more coherent than I was, so I took her up on the offer of a ride home. The drive was a blur of streetlights and darkness. I must have nodded off a dozen times, and probably would have slept the whole way had it not been for the blasting air-conditioning and radio. I didn’t object to either; those were to keep my boss awake long enough to get me home in one piece.