Page 25 of Due South

He swallows and still doesn’t meet my gaze. “No, I have a younger brother.”

“Does he have a first name or does he go by Evans like you?” Which would be super confusing, but who knows?

That earns me a snort. “No. His name’s Darren. No one messes that up on the playground. What about you? I bet you have half a dozen older brothers and they’re each the size of a barn.”

“I do not!” I sniff and put my nose in the air. “There are only four of them.”

That makes Evans half-laugh, half-choke. “And no sisters?”

“Not a one. Not for lack of my trying to get my parents to give me one, either. But they were done with five, and now I can’t blame them. Honestly, I don’t know why they didn’t stop after Josh. He was a handful. Matt, Jason, and Ryan weren’t any better.”

They were all so rowdy and did the stupid stuff all small-town farm boys did. And yet I was the one who got treated like the troublemaker, merely because I’d been born a girl, and god forbid, had breasts, and boys and men liked to look at me. As if that was my fault. As if there was more I should’ve been doing about it.

“I’m sure they were glad they kept trying after they got you.”

It’s an odd compliment, but it makes me happy anyway and I have to do my best not to shrug. I’m honestly not so sure, but as Evans said before, I know he means it kindly so I won’t correct him. We’re fucking for a few days while we get this bond project wrapped up. No need to try to explain.

I cover my lack of answer with another bite of my mushrooms and then steer the conversation back to someplace safe.

“Have you finished the section on issuer default?”

He glances at me and looks as though he wants to go back to more personal topics, but it’s time to go back to work. I give him what I hope is a pointed look and he accepts my mute ruling. “Not quite yet. I have to rework a few paragraphs, but then it should be good to go. Would you mind double-checking it before I have to send it to India?”

“Of course.”

*

Evans

After my dinnerwith Lucy, I go back to my office and finish up the paragraphs I promised to. This part of the report isn’t even demanding, but those slackers managed to mess it up too. I don’t like this section and not because it’s boring. It’s not. It’s because it makes me queasy—the idea of defaulting on obligations, financial or otherwise, makes my stomach churn.

Even with the money I send to my family, I could probably afford a nicer apartment, a better car. Heck, I did go shopping for some better clothes after I realized how shabby I must look next to India when we go on site visits together. It occurred to me that it might reflect poorly on the company and I won’t have anyone thinking she’s not the best of the best because her associate dresses as if he walked out of a discount catalogue. I’m still nowhere near the guys in my office who frequent bars after work and actually seem to know something about clothing labels, but I’ll do.

But the thing is, it makes me nervous to have nice things. Even though I’ve been working at JVA and now BCG for six years, I still wake up wondering if today is going to be the day when I put my foot in it, when I screw something up irreparably. India doesn’t have quite as much of a hair trigger when it comes to firing people as Jack did, but she expects my best work every day. Not that she singles me out—she has the same sky-high expectations for everyone who works for her—but the closer you get to the top, the harsher of a mistress she is.

Knowing what I know now—that she’s stressing about the future of the company and feels the weight of the whole company on her shoulders—I don’t blame her for demanding perfection. She probably saves the most nitpicking for her own work. It also makes me more sympathetic because I know what that weight feels like. It’s a burden.

I look over the section one more time, and though I could dash off a quick email to Lucy and have done with it, the truth is I’d like to see her and it would do me good to stretch my legs. Maybe get me a couple more hours so I can dive into the section on outstanding debt.

I send the document to the printer and grab it on my way down the hall. When I get near Lucy’s desk, I hear her voice. I didn’t hear anyone come in, so she must be on the phone.

“Yes, Mama, I’m still at work. No, India’s not here. I’m sure she’s—”

A few steps closer, and I can hear the squawking coming out of Lucy’s phone. She’s holding it away from her ear while her forehead’s firmly planted in her other palm. Bent elbow supported by the desk, she looks so pathetic I’d laugh if I didn’t feel so bad for her. When the loud protest has ebbed, Lucy puts the phone back to her ear. “Mama, India works from home a lot. Did you hear that bing? It’s because she sent me an email. It’s just, her husband, he—”

Again with the holding the phone at arm’s length, and now that I’m only a step away, I can hear the words.

“And how are you supposed to find a husband when you’re at work all hours? Don’t you want to get married and have babies? I don’t even remember the last time you had a boyfriend.”

Lucy bangs her head into her palm a few times. At least it’s not the desk? These must be the things she won’t miss about going home.

“I go out on dates,” she snaps, her eyes flying open at the same time, and her cheeks color when she realizes I’m standing right here. She shouldn’t be embarrassed. As far as I can tell, this is what families do: tell you all the ways you’re disappointing them. “Besides, my job is demanding and it’s important to me.”

“For God’s sake, Lucy, you’re just a secretary.”

Until now, she’s kept a brave face on, but at that, her eyes start to water and her round chin quivers. My heart breaks for her because, yeah, she gets India’s coffee and runs off copies and manages her schedule, but she also does some pretty sophisticated stuff. Things even some people with masters’ degrees can’t handle, as evidenced by our current project. I want to reach through the phone and…I don’t know. I can’t punch Lucy’s mom, even if she’s being horrible, but I’d like to wag my finger at her. Sternly. And maybe raise my voice.

While I can’t do that, what I can do is get Lucy off this call. And maybe make her mom see how valuable she is.

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