Page 25 of Keep Your Friends Close and Your… Work Enemy Closer?

"Aw. Well, isn't that sweet."

I couldn't tell by her tone whether or not she was being sarcastic, a rarity because her voice usually dripped with it when talking to me. So all I did was smile. "What about you?"

"Oh, no. I need to know what it is about your family that's so special. Because even though I love mine, that wasnotmy first thought when it comes to greatest fears. And now, you've made me feel like shit about that."

There was that sharp tongue, making me smile even more. "It wasn't my intention to make you feel like shit."

Even in the dim lighting, I could make out the rolling of her eyes. "Well? What about your family?"

God, she made me laugh. "They're nice. That's all."

"Nice?"

"Yeah. Nice. I really care about all of them, and they care about me. What else is there to say?"

"So you get along with your family?"

"Yes. I get along with my family. Don't you?"

"I do. Mostly. It's just weird to meet someone who likes their family. I have to admit."

I thought about her words, and she was right. So many of my friends had issues. A nasty mom, a critical father, parents who'd never been around. "I suppose you're right."

"So your parents are still together?" she asked.

"No. They're divorced. They have been for a long time. But they're still friendly, and they get along well."

"That's rare. Where do they live?"

"My mom here. My dad with his new wife and kids in Australia."

"Australia? That's cool. Do you ever go visit?"

I suddenly realized I was giving away too much information that was the actual truth for Max Sterling and not my strapped-for-cash alter ego Jared. Shit. "Not very often," I lied. "The flights are crazy expensive."

She hummed in understanding. "That's too bad. Well, maybe if you do a good job here, you'll get a raise soon, you know, because Max Sterling is so fucking generous, and then you can go down under more often."

Why did Cordelia hate me so much? Max me? Well, actually both of us. Although at the moment, she seemed to be softening,just a hair, toward Jared. I shrugged. "I think my salary is pretty fair, to be honest. Even more than industry standards."

"If you say so. But listen, I really don't want to talk about fucking Max Sterling of all people while I'm stuck in an elevator and might be living my last minutes," she said.

"So whatdoyou want to talk about? Wait, now that I've told you my greatest fear, I get to hear yours."

She sighed that long-suffering sigh I was getting used to hearing. "Right. Well, I guess it's..."

Another lengthy pause as I waited, knowing we were about to cross a threshold if Cordelia could actually open up to me and tell me something so intensely personal. The atmosphere became thick with uncertainty, not helped by the fact that our only connection to the outside world had been reduced to a flickering display panel and a hushed intercom.

"I guess," she started again in a soft voice, "I'm afraid of not leaving my mark on the world."

Honestly, I should have guessed that. Knowing her, albeit only briefly, of course that would be a fear of hers. Although I could feel her eyes on me, all I did was nod, afraid if I said or did anything that it would break the spell. And sure enough, being quiet worked because she took a deep breath and continued speaking.

"I'm afraid that when I die no one will remember me. That I'm forgettable."

Holy shit. I couldn't believe that this woman was actually confiding in me like this, confiding in the clown called Jared.

"It really hit me, and actually haunts me," she confessed, "which all started when we went on a family trip to Paris. My parents and I took a tour of the catacombs. My sisters didn't want to go—they're both younger than me—but I did. And it... and it..."

I was utterly captivated now and turned to her. "And it what?" I prodded.

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