Reaching Lily. Vivacia Ahwen K

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СКАЧАТЬ After all, there is no ‘me’ in team, right? And I desperately needed to take some me time.

      The café was generally empty in the late afternoon. Being an introvert is inconvenient, as one can’t always find an escape hatch. Silence and solitude revive me. As does coffee, even the sour stuff they have at Holder Café. Won’t name brands, but I planned at some point to tell Dorian Holder, CEO we all deserved better. And did I happen to mention that I was exhausted? Still a little hungover, even. Really.

      As I flipped open my vinyl binder, which was nearly as cheap as my shoes, I heard a cough nearby. ‘Lily?’

      Troy Matthews. Why? It’s official: there is no God. Gawd. That Catechism was such a load of bunk.

      I glanced up and removed my glasses. Then put them back on. ‘Oh. Hey, Troy.’

      Poor Troy seemed almost as uncomfortable as I, which was saying something. Why didn’t he just leave, already?

      ‘Hi.’ Troy’s eyes darted around before he asked, ‘May I join you?’

      I fiddled with my pen. ‘Uh … normally I’d say yes, but I’ve got a major deadline to meet. Be glad you aren’t an Apollyonian today.’

      Troy worked in the law office on the first floor.

      ‘Oh.’ He seemed disappointed by my refusal of his companionship. ‘Heard the head honcho’s in town.’

      ‘Yep. True story.’ So word had already spread to Wingate&Wolfington. ‘Going to be a rough few months, I reckon.’

      ‘Sorry to hear.’ He sat down across from me. What, did men simply just not listen to me … at all? Didn’t I ask him not to join me? But I knew what he was waiting for, and owed him an apology.

      ‘Speaking of sorry, Troy –’ I cleared my throat ‘– listen, about Saturday night –’

      ‘Oh, no.’ He held up a hand. ‘Don’t even. It was your birthday, Lily. You deserve to cut loose now and again.’

      ‘Generally I’m not so “loose”. I cringed at my word choice. ‘I mean –’

      ‘I know what you meant.’ He took a sip of his coffee. I never like it when men use creamer in their coffee, but that is neither here nor there. ‘Lily, it was a fun night, and I’m happy Gwen invited me along. Besides, nothing happened.’

      Poor Troy was such a last-second idea when we left work on Friday. He was wandering around the lobby looking all cute, single and dateless; a stray pup. As I mentioned, the whole thing was Gwen’s doing. ‘We’re partying in Cambridge tomorrow. You should come,’ she’d said.

      ‘Oh.’ I mulled this over. ‘That’s … that’s good. Thanks for understanding.’

      ‘Thing is, Lily? I noticed you a long time ago, and thought about asking you out. But you always seem to be in a hurry, and …’ Troy hung his head, his sandy hair flopped over his eyes and he took another sip of coffee. For the record, he was sort of cute. I could forgive myself for making a drunken pass at him.

      ‘Aren’t you glad you didn’t, now?’ I forced a smile. My facial muscles actually hurt when I fake-smile. That’s why I always looked so miserable in my Facebook pictures. Remove Tag.

      ‘Not really.’ His voice was all brave-like. ‘I’d love to try again, maybe with less tequila involved. You busy this weekend?’

      Before I could answer, my obnoxious ringtone (‘Here in my car/I feel safest of all …’) provided a wonderful excuse to end the conversation. As a rule, I don’t pick up if I don’t recognise the number, but rules are made to be broken, so I grabbed my plastic saviour. Even if it was one of many student loan collection agencies, they bailed me for now, and I would chat them up until the cows come home. Not that I didn’t consider Troy a decent person, it was just not a good time to think about anything non-Apollyon. ‘Sorry, I totally have to get this.’

      ‘That’s OK,’ he said. ‘I’ll wait.’

      What? Why would I have wanted him to wait? ‘Hello?’

      ‘Lily Dewitt?’ A rich, deep, voice resonated in my ear. Automatically, my toes curled.

       Stupid toes.

      I coughed. ‘This is she.’

      ‘Dorian Holder.’

      ‘Oh. Hello, Mr Holder.’ My tone was calm, with the slightest note of unalarmed surprise.

      I hoped.

      Troy’s eyes bugged out, and I gave him a frantic waving gesture, which had nothing in common with my smooth telephone talk. He nodded. I nodded. He left.

      Thank heaven. Back to Dorian Holder, CEO.

      ‘I went looking for you at your desk, but you appeared to have taken off for the day.’

      ‘Oh, no. I’m not – I didn’t – I just ran down to the cafeteria to grab some coffee.’ Shit. ‘I was heading right back upstairs.’

      ‘I know exactly where you are.’

      ‘You do?’ I looked around at my colourful surroundings. Chips, salad bar, coolers, bored food service workers …

      ‘Right over by the grill.’

      Sure enough, there he stood, holding his iPhone in one hand, and a hot dog in the other. Gross. He eats hot dogs? Then he was hanging up, walking toward me, his eyes serious as pulmonary edema. Taking enormous bites of that frankfurter. All business.

      ‘After this morning’s meeting, I would hardly expect to find you down here socialising with the bottom-feeders.’ He turned his head ever so slightly towards the double doors, where poor Troy Matthews viewed our interaction with a little too much interest. Troy didn’t miss the glower and departed at once, a scared bunny rabbit.

      Major turn-off.

      ‘That’s Troy Matthews. He’s in accounting.’ Like I needed to explain anything to Dorian Holder, CEO. Not that he cared. ‘Not for us, for the law office.’

      ‘Holder Enterprises owns Wingate&Wolvington, and they handle all Apollyon’s legal tangles. But you knew that, right? Ah. I’m assuming this is your proposal.’ Dorian Holder took the last bite of hot dog, slipped the phone into his pocket, picked up my notes and squinted at them. Smooth as silk.

      ‘You assume correct.’

      ‘Correctly.’

      ‘What?’

      ‘You said, “You assume correct.” Which I do not. I assume correctly.’

      ‘Either one works, Mr Holder.’

      He examined my scribbles. ‘You have the penmanship of a high-school girl, Ms Dewitt.’

      What was that supposed to mean? It’s not like I put hearts over my i’s or anything. Deciding not to rise to the bait, СКАЧАТЬ