Page 17 of Meet Me at Midnight

I laugh. “Of course not. You know I’d drown myself in cheese dip if given a good opportunity, but Ave, I actually care about this job.”

She wrinkles up her nose. “Are you serious?”

“Yes,” I say, stopping slightly to shake her shoulder with my one free hand. “I know it’s a foreign concept, but if I wanted an easy road, I would have just worked for my father.”

“Ohhhh!” she exclaims with eyes dancing. “Maybe that’s what we should do! We should quit this job and go work for your dad. He’d let us get away with anything, and we could swim in queso every day!”

“Avery, honey,” I say, voice cajoling. “I’m going to go make these copies for your dad, okay?”

“Ugh. You’re so boring.” She blows out a breath. “What am I supposed to do now?”

I shrug. “Work?”

“Yuck! No thanks,” she scoffs. “Oh! I know. I’ll go get a spray tan. Want to come?”

“Nope,” I call over my shoulder, purposely heading back on my path, down the hallway and toward the copy room. She flashes me the finger and then blows me a kiss before retreating back down the hall toward our cubicles, destination God knows where.

I scan my badge to get in the copy room door, sidle around Chris McKenzie’s assistant Carla as she hole-punches and binds several pitch booklets, and get to work. I have twenty pages, front and back, that Neil needs several sets of for files. It’s a little archaic, making copies of contracts when we’re in the digital age of everything being online, but both Mr. Banks and Mr. McKenzie are old-school sticklers for keeping backup hard copies on file.

After power went down for the whole city last week and our internet was on the fritz for two hours while everyone panicked, I can see why. I mean, Florida isn’t exactly known for consistently perfect weather. Hurricane season always brings uncertainty.

The machine whirs to life, and I scan the first page, setting the screen to spit out double-sided pages in sets of twenty.

“Sorry,” I apologize to Carla, laughing when the rumble of the machine damn near vibrates the floor.

She rolls her eyes with a laugh. “No worries. That dinosaur might as well be friends with Chris Pratt, it’s so old.” She stacks her booklets and scoops them up, gesturing to me with their bulk. “I’m done anyway. The room is all yours.”

“See ya,” I say politely as she leaves the room. Everyone here has been truly friendly, and for that, I’m grateful. It’s always scary starting something new, and this job, in particular, is something akin to jumping in open water with a bunch of sharks. Everyone is rabid, everyone is focused, and more than anything, everyone wants to win.

On the one hand, it’s exhilarating. On the other, I spend half my time wondering if I’m truly cut out for it. I’ve never in my lifebeen cutthroat or bold or pushy. Things I desperately need to learn to be if I’m going to succeed in the world of advertising.

The copier comes to a rest, and I ready the next sheet, placing it facedown on the glass top and closing the lid. I’m about to push the button and fire it up when a muffled voice on the other side of the wall pulls me up short.

“Oh, c’mon, Laura,” a male voice croons, the edges of the sound blurry but the context clear. It’s like something over a radio—if I strain hard enough, I can make out exactly what they’re saying. “Just tell me what the plan is.”

“You know I can’t do that, Seth,” she responds, and a few soft giggles follow. “I’m not on your team.”

“You should’ve been on my team,” Seth says, a flirtatious lilt that makes the hair at the back of my neck stand on end. I lean closer to the wall, my heartbeat freakingthunderingin my chest. If I can’t get it to calm down, I’m not going to be able to hear anything but the sound of blood whooshing around my body like it’s on a racetrack.

Seth McKenzie and Laura Keller, a very important member of Beau’s Midnight team, are talking in the conference room next door, and a very sinking feeling inside me says they shouldn’t be. I mean, a little flirting is hardly international espionage—though, Sethisengaged to Beau’s ex-freaking-girlfriend, let’s remember—but it feels like it is. In fact, with everything that’s on the line with the “friendly competition,” it feels like the biggest freaking deal of my life.

“You wanted me on your team?” Laura asks, and when I can’t hear Seth’s response, I press my whole dang ear to the wall.

The words are still muffled, and I feel like I’m tiptoeing through a highly guarded museum in the middle of a heist. My breathing is shaky, and my stomach flips over with nerves. I glance over my shoulder, looking toward the still-closed door in the copy room and then press my ear back to the wall, forgoing any more intake of oxygen in an effort to hear.

“I’m on Beau’s team, Seth,” Laura says. “Not yours.” I don’t know her very well yet, but I’m starting to like her a little more. I know the pressure of having someone in Seth’s position push you for information must be immense, but so far, she seems to be holding up. She is mighty. She is powerful. She is woman.Or fucking something, I don’t know. I’m freaking out.

“We’ve already established that,” he comments. “But what we haven’t established is what the benefits would be if you gave me a little insight into where he’s guiding his big campaign…”

“Are you trying to bribe me, Seth?”

Ohhh, shit.Body, mind, and soul, I am an actual piece of this stupid wall now. Tape and spackle and paint me over, I’m here to stay.

“Of course not.” He chuckles. “Just trying to find something that’s mutually beneficial for both of us.”

“Sure.” Laura laughs. “Find someone else to hound.”

“What? So, that’s how it’s going to be?” Seth asks playfully, though I can perfectly imagine his crooked smile as he tries to save face. Just like with Bethany and Henry and all of Beau’s other friends, because of my proximity to the Banks family, I’ve had more than enough occasion to be in his company over the years to learn some of the things that make him tick. He has aquick wit and a flashy smile, but if he’s not getting his way, he’s scheming to figure out a way around it.

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