with a vengeance.
On most of my days off, I spent the morning thinking of how everything had started on the sixth. I woke up with the familiar guilt and dread in my chest. It hung on for the day, and I saw her face in my mind. Then my own voice, hurling angry accusations at her. I pictured her, not ever denying what I said, grabbing her scarf and hat and storming out of the house. Even if I could brush those things off, I would remember the sound of the sirens, and the smell of lilies, and the sight of the pale faces.
Sometimes the day would go better than others. I might reach the point of emotional hangover by noon, if I could get through the rest of the day unscathed.
I had a feeling today was going to a bad one, though. I thought it might even carry over to Saturday. I doubted I could force my way through, drinks or no drinks, girls or no girls.
Redhead or no redhead, I added before I could stop myself.
As I arrived at the parking lot and scanned it for my truck, my cell phone chimed. I glanced at the number on the call display and sighed. I let it go to voice mail. I reached my truck and my phone went off again. I ignored it a second time, choosing to climb into my vehicle instead. I sat down with a crunch. A large, yellow envelope was sitting on the driver’s side seat. I yanked it out from underneath me and glared at the logo on the corner. My phone rang a third time. I pounded the answer button irritably.
“Hi, Dad,” I greeted cheerfully through my gritted teeth. “I got the package you left in my truck.”
“Cut the act, son,” he said. “I need you to be somewhere today.”
“It’s the sixth.”
“So?”
“So we have a deal. And this weekend is—”
“Open that envelope.”
“Dad—”
“Now.”
I tore the yellow paper open, feeling a petty bit of satisfaction when the whole envelope split. I scanned the contents.
“This looks like a City ordinance request,” I said.
“It is.”
“What do you want me to do with it?”
“I want you to go to that meeting.”
I glanced at the paperwork again. “It’s today. It’s ten minutes from now.”
“So you’d better hurry.”
“This says the meeting is a private one between the City and the applicant.”
“It is.” My dad paused, then sighed loudly before he continued. “But this request threatens a potentially important project for our company. I want to know what we’re up against. I want to know who we’re up against.”
“Is it even legal for me to be there?” I wanted to know.
“You’re signed on as an observer from the school paper,” he replied.
“Seriously? You think they’re going buy that?”
He ignored me. “This is as important for you as it is for me.”
“I somehow doubt that,” I muttered.
“Joey…one day my company will belong to you.”
I don’t want it. I’ve never wanted it. Even before—I cut myself off midthought. I knew what he was expecting from me, and I made an effort to live up to that. It helped me stay focused, to keep from perpetually laying the blame at my own feet.
But why did it have to be today?
“I haven’t let you down once since I signed that contract. I close more deals than anyone else on your team,” I replied. “But you know why I need this day off, Dad.”
He tried a more sympathetic tactic. “At some point, you have to get past this.”
“I don’t know if I can.”
“This has been hard on all of us,” he said.
“It didn’t happen because of you,” I growled. “It happened because of me.”
“It happened because of that woman,” he corrected. “And today, they don’t need you. But I need do. There’s a suit in your backseat. Get dressed and get there. Please.”
He hung up, and I gritted my teeth again, turned the key in the ignition and drove at full speed to City Hall.
* * *
There’s nothing quite as humiliating and infuriating as trying to get dressed in the men’s room at an office building where no one knows you. Except maybe being caught doing it. Which I was. First by an unsuspecting mail delivery boy, then a thick-necked businessman, and finally a cop, all of whom had eyed me suspiciously. As I tucked my dress shirt into my pants and finished a double Windsor knot on my tie, I happened to glance in the mirror, and I saw that my face was red with exertion and embarrassment. I had no time to spare.
I paused very outside the boardroom, doing a quick inventory of the men seated at the table inside. Five stuffed shirts and a stuffed-shirt wannabe. I wondered which one was my dad’s informant.
Not informant, I corrected myself mentally. Informant would imply that Dad is the good guy in this situation.
I knew he wasn’t. Which didn’t bother me as much as one might think. My father wasn’t without scruples. He just did what he had to do to be successful. To stay successful. He ran a hard line in his business pursuits, and it worked.
I should be asking which one is the leak. That’s probably a more accurate descriptor.
One of the stuffed shirts checked his watch, then glanced up and saw me. I hurried to join them at the table, feeling like an imposter. I was sure I might as well have had a sign on my head.
“I’m the…” I trailed off and faked as cough as I almost said the word spy out loud.
“You’re the student observer from the paper at the college?” the wannabe filled in.
“Right. That’s me,” I agreed.
The door swung open and the representatives who were delivering the request to stay my father’s building plans came walking in. I took in the lawyer first. Keith Bomner was a man I recognized. He was big into causes, big into pro bono work and good at taking on both. My dad would be very interested in discovering that Bomner had been at the meeting, and I started to make my first note.
Then I caught sight of the redhead and all logical thought left my brain.
She was dressed the same as she had been earlier this morning, in a hip-hugging skirt and a conservative blouse. As I eyed her from head to toe, I noted with a smile that the only real difference
