The Hating Game
Page 55

“I came in quickly to check my email.” Her tone is that of an absolute trooper.
“Alan said it would be okay if I cleared it with you first.” She’s jingling her car keys in the background.
I steel myself with blue-laser strength. “I’m sorry, that’s not going to work for me. I need it by five, please.”
“I’m aware of the deadline,” she counters, voice sharpening by one degree. “I’m trying to let you know Alan is not going to have it to you on time.”
“But it’s really you who needs the extension, not Alan.” There is a long pause while I wait for her to speak.
“I thought you’d be a bit more flexible on this.” Her tone is slipping further into an impressive combination of petulance and ice. “I am unwell.”
“If you do need to go home,” I begin as I watch Joshua’s brow transform into a scowl, “you’ll need to take today as sick leave, and bring a doctor’s note.”
“I’m not going to the doctor for tiredness and a headache. He’ll tell me to sleep. That’s what I want to go and do.”
“I’m sympathetic if you’re feeling unwell, but that’s the HR policy.” Josh smoothes his hand over his mouth to hide his grin. I’m playing the HR Game with Julie.
“Sympathetic? I wouldn’t call this sympathetic at all.”
“I’ve been fair with you, Julie. I’ve given you extensions a lot of times. But I can’t keep staying late to finish these reports.”
Josh circles his hand in the air. I keep going. “If it’s late, I end up having to stay back.”
“You don’t have any family here, or a boyfriend, do you? Late nights don’t affect you like they do for people with husbands and . . . well, people with families.”
“Well, I’m not going to get myself a husband or a life if I keep staying until nine o’clock at night, now am I? I’ll expect the report from Alan at five.”
“You’ve spent too much time in the company of that horrible Joshua.”
“Apparently so. Also, I can’t do the internship for your niece, it’s not convenient for me.” I terminate the call.
Joshua lies back in his chair and starts laughing. “Well, shit.”
“I was amazing, wasn’t I. Did you see me?” I punch the air and mime giving Julie an uppercut. Josh rests his folded hands on his stomach and watches me shadowbox my reflection.
“Take that, Julie, and your life and husband and your phony sleep disorder.”
“Let it all out.”
“Take that, Julie, and your me-graines.”
“You really were amazing.”
“Take that, Julie, and your French manicure.”
“Okay.” He’s smiling at me, openly, in this exact office that was once a battlefield, and I flop back down into my chair and close my eyes and feel the glow of his pleasure from across the marble superhighway. So this is what it feels like. This is what it could have been like, all this time. It wasn’t too late.
“No more late nights for me. I’ve probably totally destroyed my relationship with her, but it was so worth it.”
“You’ll have a life and a husband in no time.”
“No time at all. Probably by next week. I hope he’s super nice.” I open my eyes and the way he looks at me makes me wish I hadn’t said it. We both hesitate, and his eyes flick sideways. I’ve interrupted our flow.
“Please, let me enjoy this moment. Joshua Templeman is officially my friend.” I link my fingers and stretch my arms over my head.
“I’m going for my breakfast meeting. Josh, I need those figures by lunch,” Mr. Bexley says, walking in between us. I think we all know this breakfast meeting is with a plate of bacon.
“They’re already done; I’ll email them through now.”
Mr. Bexley harrumphs, I suppose his best attempt at thanks or praise, and then turns to me.
“Good morning, Lucy. Nice dress you’ve got on there.”
“Thanks.”
Ugh.
“Got your nails sharpened, do you then? Interviews coming soon. Ticktock.” He ambles to the edge of my desk and peruses me from the neck down. I resist the urge to cross my arms over myself. I don’t know how Mr. Bexley hasn’t noticed Josh’s murderous glare refracted dozens of times. He continues his usual gimlet-eyed assessment of my appearance.
“Don’t,” Josh says to his boss, voice metallic.
“I’m pretty well prepared for the interview.” I look down at my front. “Mr. Bexley, what are you looking at?”
I calmly level my eyes at Mr. Bexley, and he physically jolts. He quickly averts his eyes and begins to comb his fingers through his sparse hair, his face burnished red.
Man, I kick ass today.
Josh clenches his jaw and looks down at his glass desk so angrily I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter.
“From the little sneak peek I had in Helene’s office, I do think you’re well prepared. Doctor Josh, we may need to discuss strategy.”
Holy shit. He’s going to tell Joshua about my project. I swing my panicked stare to Josh, who looks at his boss like he is an absolute idiot.
And then he reminds me that no, he is not my friend, and no matter how much kissing we do on his couch, we’re still in the middle of our biggest competition.
“I’m not going to need any help beating her.”
Chapter 18
He’s cold as ice and the tone gives me flashbacks. He says it like it is the most ridiculous thing he’s ever heard. Silly little Lucy Hutton, impossible to take seriously, and absolutely no match for Joshua Templeman in any arena. I’m a joke. I’m not getting the job, because why would I? I have to be coached through a phone call.
“Maybe not,” Mr. Bexley muses. Clearly pleased to have kicked over two beehives, he plods off. As he waits for the elevator, he looks back at us.
“But then again, Doctor Josh, you may want to rethink that.”
The elevator door closes as Josh’s silently mouthed Fuck you fragments around us. Then he looks at me.
“I was lying.”
The silence rings like crystal wineglasses touched together.
“Well, you’re quite a good actor. I sure believed it.” I pick up my bottle of water and sip, trying to ease the angry tightness in my throat. I’m actually grateful to him. This is what I’ve been missing. We’re two racehorses pounding toward the finish line. I’ve been flagging, but I’ve just felt the first lash of the whip. I need to hold on to this feeling until I walk out of the interview.