Somehow, even with his eyes glued to my back, I manage to walk away without spilling a tear or letting out a single sob. Once I’ve turned the corner, I racewalk to the ladies’ room, where I lock myself in a stall and sit on the toilet seat lid, not allowing a single tear to fall until I’ve made it ten full minutes without hearing a footstep or flush or squeak of a stall door.
I wish I’d known I was capable of that kind of control when I was blubbering in my childhood bed.
Jazmine
When I arrive at the office that afternoon, Erin’s not at her desk. I’m on my way to my own when someone comes up behind me.
“If you’re looking for your assistant, she’s in the ladies’ room,” Rich Hanson says.
“What?” I ask as I turn slowly to face him.
“I was talking to her when she bolted. I’m a little concerned. She’s been in there for a while.”
I fold my arms across my chest. “What did you say to her?”
“Me? Nothing.” If you’re not careful, you can be pulled in by the friendly sheep act and forget that there’s a wolf inside. “I’d stopped by to talk to you, and I noticed that she was upset.”
“And she was upset because . . . ?”
“I’m assuming it was because of the photo of Josh in the National Enquirer that hit the shelves today. He was in the company of a former Miss Florida turned reality TV star.”
“And you made it your business to make sure she knew about it,” I say, trying not to think about the fact that this is the very kind of thing Louise warned me about when I chose Erin.
“Why would I do that?” Hanson’s tone is sincere.
“Who knows why you do what you do? Because you didn’t think I should hire her in the first place? Because you like to cause trouble? Because you tortured small animals as a child?”
He shakes his head. “I may have a no-holds-barred approach to my work, but I have never intentionally upset a young, vulnerable girl.”
I continue to meet his gaze.
He sighs. “I came over here to talk to you and found her staring at the photo, trying not to cry.”
“And how did that make you feel?”
“Crappy.” His voice is surprisingly quiet. “She’s been through some serious stuff, and while I didn’t think hiring her was a good idea, I respect the fact that she’s still standing. I take no pleasure in seeing innocent people suffer. I find it in winning for my clients. In besting competitors. Equals who can hold their own.”
I turn and lead him into my office, letting the compliment pass. “So, what was it you wanted to talk to me about when you got distracted by Erin’s unhappiness?” I ask as I sit behind my desk and motion him into the chair opposite.
“I saw a player—a wide receiver—at a pro day over the weekend that needs better advice than he’s getting. And I thought of you.”
“So now you’re trying to get other people to steal other agents’ players for you?”
“No, not at all. I just feel like he’s being pushed to declare too early. I can’t take him on, but he needs someone to convince him to stay in school and get a degree while he works on his game.”
“So, you thought of me.” I can’t quite figure out his angle, but I’m sure there has to be one.
“Yes. We’ve had our differences, but you’re good at what you do, and I think you have your clients’ best interests at heart.” He sighs. “Your assistant fled before I could leave a message.”
“Well, seeing as how I’m often tempted to flee your company as quickly as possible, it may have just been her survival instincts kicking in. Or a stomach bug.” I’ve seen Rich Hanson’s killer instinct at work too often to ever completely trust in the earnestness he’s displaying.
He spreads his arms wide. “Believe what you will. I came to offer an olive branch. At some point, we’re going to have to figure out how to work with each other. Or one of us”—his tone infers that the one of us is me—“could get shoved out.”
“Thanks for the warning. And your concern for Erin. But she is a strong, professional woman and doesn’t need it.”
Then I stand. As soon as he’s out of sight, I turn and head for the ladies’ room as if I’m not the least bit worried about what I might find when I get there.
Fifteen
Erin
I’m not sure how long I’ve been in the bathroom when I hear Jazmine’s confident, long-strided click of high heels.
“Erin?”
“Yes?”
“Are you all right?”
I’m pretty sure the fact that I’m basically hiding in a stall requires me to say no, but I didn’t cry and I am functional. It’s just that the longer I stayed in here, the harder it got to leave.
“If you’re sick, you should go home.” There’s a pause. “And if you’re hiding here because you’re too upset to work . . .”
“But I am working.” I unlock the stall door and step out with my hands up, like some criminal who has to prove he’s not dangerous. One of those hands clutches my cell phone. “I only came in here because Louise told me I should never let anyone see me cry. And I was kind of afraid that I might.”
Her head tilts at an angle, and her arms cross over her chest. “First of all, I’m not loving the fact that you have been conducting my business from a ladies’ room. Second, if Louise told you not to let anyone see you cry, she actually meant do not cry. Period.”
“But I haven’t,” I say almost proudly. “I just didn’t want to go back to my desk until I was completely sure I had it under control.”
“You do realize that when you stay in a bathroom long enough for people to notice, they assume that you have some horrible and possibly contagious intestinal problem. Or you’re goofing off. Or you’re crying.”
My cheeks heat with embarrassment.
“I have no doubt odds have been laid on exactly how long you’ll be in here.” She pauses. “I wouldn’t be surprised if there’s also a side bet on whether or not you’ll still be working here after today.”
Holy crap. I offer up a prayer that I haven’t thrown away this incredible opportunity over a stupid tabloid picture. “Are you firing me?”
“No.” Jazmine’s eyes close briefly. Her exhale is long. “If you don’t want to work for me, you’re going to have to say so. In the meantime, here are a few things to consider: