While the ambulance crew packed Rachel away in a body bag, we watched. We said nothing. The alarm has been off for the best part of two hours and yet I can still hear it screeching in my ears. My own reporters are all up in my face asking questions, and outside, the place is heaving with press. It's carnage. In the next forty eight hours, the world will get their teeth into Rachel Fordham. I may not like what they find.
There are so many ways to commit suicide. She had to go and do it in my very public lobby.
As soon as we're free, Leo tears off to a separate elevator with Rachel's bag, leaving my hands full of shadows and honeyed smoke. I want to call after her but the words won't come. Ever the faithful assistant, however, Tuija is there to escort me back to my office with a coffee. I've never been so glad to slip back into my beige abyss.
"So I guess Princess Priss comes with more baggage than OCD," Tuija mutters.
I glare at her from my spot on the office couch.
"Okay. Sorry." Air hisses through her clenched teeth. "Just wanted to start a nice gentle dialogue. Because you know...despite the shitty hours, it's not every day some girl blows her brains out at Lore Corp HQ."
The silence in here is too much. I can't get used to it.
"Boss." She stalks over and perches beside me. "You okay?"
No! I'm petrified that someone's going to find out who Rachel really is. Oh, and apparently Leo was screwing her. When did I fall into the shitting Twilight Zone? "I've been better."
"Is there anything I need to know?" There's a jagged edge to her voice, as if she already has the answer.
"No."
"You want a drink? Whiskey? I've got like, three different kinds in my mini bar."
I should scold her for that. Slather on the concern. Trouble is, I got nothing. There's just an empty space where my fucks ought to be.
"Okay. So no whiskey." She drums her fingers on the leather couch.
For a moment, we both watch my muted screens play out: Kasha stands in the Lore Corp lobby, all shaken and concerned and no doubt parroting the statement I gave just thirty minutes ago.
Shit. Shit. I don't need this. I've had enough negative press in my life and this isn't fucking fair. I'm meant to control the news, not make it.
"I already called a therapy consultancy," Tuija babbles. "We'll get our poor, traumatized colleagues plenty of support. So that's that covered. The cleaning company have been notified—they'll wait until forensics have finished, obviously. Wow...forensics." She sits back. "This is some serious shit."
"I lied," I say quietly. "There's stuff you should know."
Tuija cocks her head. Tries to hide her curiosity, badly.
My first Big Reveal, and I can't even bring myself to be excited about it. I want to laugh but nausea gets in the way. "The girl...Rachel. I was involved with her a long time ago."
Tuija blinks. Her mouth forms a thin, drawn little line. "The girl who's been boning Leo? If girls could bone. You know what I mean."
"Small world," I manage before nearly choking.
"You don't say." She leans in, her brows knitted together. "How the hell did your old girl get mixed up with your new one?"
"Do not give me your karma lecture."
"I wasn't even thinking about it." She crosses her legs and sighs. "Of course, now, I am."
I side-eye her. "Point is...things didn't end well with me and Rach. If the wrong person starts digging around—if Montgomery gets a hold of it—the shit will hit the fan. I'll drown in it."
"I don't get how this didn't come up in her background check," Tuija goes on, incredulous. "I mean, I went over that girl with a fine-tooth comb. Miniscule. She had boyfriends, Aeron. No girlfriends. No Rachel pissing Fordham."
"So I gathered."
"You know I take care of business. I do my job."
"I know, firecracker." I put my face in my hands and rub my cheeks vigorously, trying to feel something, anything. "I've got to deflect before things get ridiculous."
"With what?"
"What else? Montgomery and his twinkie."
"You are not going to fling crap at GNS just because you're panicking," Tuija says sharply. "I mean it. You know what'll happen—he'll just retaliate, and it'll be even worse than before. I won't let you. Nuh-uh."
"I'm not asking your fucking permission, am I?"
"No. But you're getting my fucking opinion, regardless." She jumps up, heading toward my refrigerator. "And I'm getting a drink."
"Tuija!"
"Just a Coke." She thrusts up the bottle, rolling her eyes. "Don't waste your drama on me, Marilyn. I'm just telling it like it is."
"I meant what I said about Montgomery. When the time is right, I'm gonna give you the word, and you're gonna walk into the editor's suite with that file and make them very, very happy."
"Aeron." She lowers her voice, puts force behind it. "That guy is dangerous. His second wife, you remember? A golf caddy accident, my silicon ass."
Despite the gravity of the situation, I can't help but snort. She thinks he's dangerous. She has no idea. "I need to see Leo. She's in her office, right?"
"Last I heard." She shrugs and does a spectacularly bad job of hiding her displeasure. It pulls at her upper lip like a hooked finger.