“I’m sorry.” Though Trent isn’t my favorite person, and I don’t understand what Rachel sees in him, he is a colleague, and I don’t wish him ill. “Can I help?”
He shakes his head and makes a motion with his hand as if he’s waving away smoke. “No, no. I didn’t mean to make it sound dire. I’m distracted by something else. Everything in Century City is moving forward.” He takes a paper clip from a bowl on my desk and starts to unfold it. “Honestly, once you’ve been in this business a bit longer, you’ll realize that bumps in the road are just part of a day on the job.”
I lean back in my chair and nod, not sure if he’s trying to be helpful, or if this is his backhanded way of telling me I’m too new and raw to actually be managing a project, even with Aiden’s help.
That’s hardly a question I’m going to ask, though, and so I opt for that time-honored tactic of conversational diversion. “So, you and Rachel are going out?”
He lifts a shoulder as he focuses on the star pattern into which he’s bent the paper clip. “She’s a lot of fun.”
That is hardly the most romantic endorsement, but I know that Rachel is happy. I hope that Trent just isn’t the kind to over-share about his relationships, and for the time being, I’m sticking with that assessment. Because so far, today has been awesome. And nothing—not cave crickets or irritating co-workers or the fear that another friend’s relationship is on the skids—is going to spoil my mood.
Fifteen minutes later, my cell phone chirps, and when I glance at the text from Cass, I realize I should never have tempted the gods.
Check out the pics. Not viral, but lots of shares. I look drunk, but hot. U look hot, and sober. Jackson looks like sex, but he always does.
There’s a link, and I click through. She’s right—we both do look hot. And Jackson, who is holding up Cass on the other side, looks good enough to eat. To be honest, if Cass didn’t look so wasted it would be a good picture to frame for my desk. Both Jackson and I have soft expressions, and though we’re clearly focused on keeping Cass upright, the moment is so gentle and sweet that I want to bend down and kiss his photo since the man himself isn’t right beside me.
I’m about to send her back a text thanking her for the link when she sends another message.
Zee saw pic and freaked. Said it looked like I was screwing both of U.
Be proud. I stood firm. Told her we were over.
It’s done. Holy fuck.
I respond immediately:
I am proud!!!!! U did good. Hold fast. We’ll find the right girl for u.
It takes a moment, but her reply when it comes through makes me smile:
In time for Halloween party wld be nice. And thx. XXOO.
And here are some more for your computer wallpaper.
There is another link, this one to images of Jackson and me. There is one of us at the table, just looking at each other, but the heat in our eyes is palpable. Another is positively awesome, and I hope that I can find a high-quality version so that I can print it. Because someone actually caught our dance—right when Jackson dipped me. The picture is slightly blurred, suggesting motion, and we both look like we couldn’t be having a better time if we tried. Frankly, that’s how I always feel with him.
These images come with captions, too, and I’m now the official subject of celebrity gossip, because I have been identified on social media as starchitect Jackson Steele’s girlfriend.
Honestly, I can’t say that I mind.
Love these, I text to Cass. Thx.
Her reply makes me frown.
:) But there are other pics, too. These might not make you happy. Is J around? Has he been online?