Page 46 of Death is My BFF

“Marcy, no—”

“It’s totally fine, babe. This is bothering you, and I’m not the one who will make you feel better or find closure.” She was doing that creepy best friend thing and reading my mind. “You need to go talk to the broad-shouldered brooder with mommy issues.”

I stifled a laugh. “Thank you for offering your help, but I can’t.

I have enough going on already. I’m not going to get myself tangled in a messy tryst, when I should be figuring out what I want to do with my life.”

A tiny, crumbled piece of paper hit my face. Marcy was riffling through her purse, tossing various pieces of trash and gum wrappers over her shoulder, while she sang an off-key song under her breath.

“A-ha!” She thrust a handful of bills at me. “Bam.”

I backed away with a glare. Marcy followed with an outstretched fistful of cash, raising an eyebrow at me in challenge. “You need this, and you know it. I see right through your insults of him. YoulikeDavid.”

Her words rang true in my head. What she didn’t know was that she gave me a ticket out, not in. I needed to figure out if I was cuckoo for Cocoa Puffs with all these head trips to Paranormal Land before I could even begin to consider a relationship with David or anyone else.

The tip of the D&S Tower impaled the violent blackened sky as rain pelted the pedestrians on the sidewalk with icy droplets. Mouth breathing like I’d run a marathon (I practically had), I took refuge in the lobby. I glowered from under my hood at the beautiful anddrybusinessmen and businesswomen sauntering around the lobby and discreetly wrung out the ends of my hair like a mop into a potted plant.

Partly cloudy with a chance of an afternoon shower, my butt.

My impromptu outfit of a graphic T-shirt, jeans, and Converse was completely waterlogged, so I considered turning back and taking a taxi home. But I’d come too far now. Tugging the zipper of my drenched hoodie up to my neck, I wrapped my arms around myself and trudged through the lobby.

At the security area, I pulled down my hood to show my face to the guard. Although I looked like some punk teenager who was about to spray paint the nearest bare wall, he let me pass without any questions. Security had done the same thing the first time I was here.

When I turned back over my shoulder, one of the guards stopped a woman dressed considerably nicer than me and asked for her name.

I wondered if David or Devin had shown them a picture of me or something.Weird.

Trepidation slid down my spine as I glided into an elevator with four other people. I felt jittery and wired, and not just because of the nervousness of seeing David again. This whole building was intimidating. I walked down the hallway to his office with squeaky sneakers.

A woman wearing a stunning lace blouse strutted past, glancing down at me over her thin nose. What the hell had I been thinking wearing myturdof an outfit? Sure, David and I had seen each other in casual clothes, but were we at casual turd outfit level yet? I guess I’d find out . . .

I heaved in a deep breath and yanked open the doors to an empty waiting room. Tiara, David’s witch of a receptionist, wasn’t perched behind her desk. Heart in my throat, I crossed the waiting room and lifted my hand to knock on David’s door, when I noticed it was slightly ajar.

I nudged the door open. “David? It’s me, Faith.” When he didn’t respond, I peeked through the crack in the door, the faint light of the shadowy room haloing the outline of his large mahogany desk.

“Yo, anybody home?” I pushed the door open farther and took a guarded step forward. The room appeared significantly different than the last time I’d been in it. It was colder, darker. Everything fell to a hush as I took another step inside.

Untouched, opulent furniture was scattered around the room with the potent smell of new leather, like the couches were brand-new. The carpets were indented in certain places, indicating furniture had recently been rearranged. The damaged coffee table was gone, replaced with another sleek glass table. There was not a trace of anyone ever inhabiting the office, not even a single food wrapper from David’s desk. Everything was spotless.

Snooping around, I picked up the remote to the television and tried the power button. The television didn’t work. I studied the wall next to the TV, and my head tilted. The black-and-white photographs of New York hanging there were cardboard demo photos the frames came with. Now that I was thinking about it, there were no photographs of him or his dad anywhere in here.

This is weird. There must have been a reasonable explanation.

Maybe it was a new office for him, and he was still decorating.

I crossed a pocket of air where I could smell the ghost of David’s cologne and hesitated walking any farther. This was wrong. I was trespassing. Coming to my senses, I began to exit the room. As my hand touched the door handle, it occurred to me to look back over my shoulder, and I saw something gleam like a wink under the lamp on his desk.

I checked to see if the coast was clear in the waiting room and left a crack between the door and the frame. Striding toward his desk, I searched for the sparkle that had caught my eye.

Various papers were stacked neatly on his desk, my portfolio included. Clipped to it, the pros and cons list with a scribbled-out drawing of boobs. I noticed he’d written a lot less cons than I assumed.

Cons: Killed Rudolph. Doesn’t drink (Narc?). Sassy. Uptight. Wore slacks . . .

Now I was disgusted with myself for giving David another chance, until I read the pros list.

Pros: Punctual. Organized. Funny and quirky. Hardworking.

Dedicated. Intelligent. Bold. Self-motivated. Honest. Reliable. Creative.

---