Page 75 of Serving the Maestro

My skin felt clammy and cold chills started wracking me.

I never heard Cam come in, but she was there, leaning against my desk while I leaned against her, her arm around my shoulders as I fought to hold it together.

“You can cry,” she said. “You don’t always have to be so strong, Jazz.”

“I can’t cry here. I can’t let the staff see me falling apart, Cam. It might scare them, and I can’t give them answers that wouldn’t make them ask more questions.” Shaking my head, I focused on the things I could touch, feel, see, smell, and hear. The scratchy-soft material of Cam’s hip-length summer sweater. The hard swell of her pregnant belly. Her hand stroking my hair. The faint scent of the lavender lotion she loved. Chatter out in the main area of the office. The Lush Lotus pink polish on my toenails.

Bit by bit, I dragged my emotions under control.

“Was it Dr. Doucette on the phone?”

I nodded, the dull headache pulsing behind my eyes, sending a sharp spike of pain through my skull at the movement.

“Want to talk? Or should I let it go?”

“They didn’t find anything.” I hugged her, then eased away. Rising to my feet, I moved to the window and stared outside. “Too much time had passed. If I’d had the sense to go Saturday...”

“Don’t play that game, Jazz.” She walked toward me and bumped her shoulder against mine. “Whether he slipped you a roofie or just intentionally got you plastered, the results are the same—and the results are conclusive proof of his asshole-ishness.”

“Asshole-ishness. Is that a word?”

“Yep.” She rested her head on my shoulder. “Why don’t you go home? Take the afternoon off.”

“I need to finish the press release.”

“I’ll do it. Or you can leave after you finish. Or we can delay it another day. Go home, Jazz. Take some time to cry, then figure out what you want to do.”

“There’s only one thing I can do—put this behind me.”

“Well...” Cam drew the word.

The tone in her voice made me give a wary look. “What?”

“We could corner that bastard at his work and kick his balls up into his brain stem.”

Her bloodthirsty smile made me laugh, and I hugged her. “I’ll sleep on that option.”

* * *

Despite the overwhelming urge to cry at the office, I was numb by the time I got to my building.

I’d been numb for days, my emotions strangely blunted even as the raging storm in my head grew louder and stronger. The numbness was a shield but not a strong one.

Sometime soon, it would break, and the onslaught of pain, panic and betrayal would drop down.

Like a tidal wave, it was going to sweep me under. I’d be helpless against it, powerless.

Lost.

Alone.

Hurrying past everyone in the lobby, I got on the elevator and jabbed the button for the doors to close. I breathed a sigh of relief when nobody joined me, slumping against the wall and clinging to the handrail as the car swept me up to my floor.

Arms folded over my middle, I stepped off. But before I could take a step, I saw him.

Trent.

He was sitting on the floor outside my door, almost exactly as he’d been the last time, we’d seen each other before he left.

---