Page 16 of Until We're More
“Do you think Brooklyn might come in for a few extra hours and help with the books?” Dad asked. “The new girl’s not as fast, and I don’t want to get behind again.”
Since my goal was to avoid drama, I knew better than to get in the middle of those two. “That’s a question you’ll have to ask Brooklyn.”
“Just for a couple hours. She can do it while Shane trains.”
“Again, you’re talking to the wrong person.” At least Dad now understood that she needed time to paint, and he always asked her about her job at the gallery and bragged about her paintings, but sometimes it was still hard for him to accept “no” as an answer. The new girl definitely wasn’t as quick or as detailed when it came to the books, but that was what happened when you compared years of experience to a few months. “Maddie will figure it out. If Brooklyn has time to help, I’m sure she’ll figure things out faster, but she has that big art show at the end of the month.”
“It’s on my calendar, and I’ll be there.”
It only took a couple decades, but Dad was gradually changing. He was nearing the end of his career, though, now retired from fighting, and I needed to keep my career going and growing before I could even think about slowing down. Even after I finally got my hands on that belt, it would mean a lot of defending my title afterward. Basically, my life didn’t have a slow-down point within the next few years, and while it was good to plan ahead, there was also a lot of getting through things day by day and month by month.
Really the only certainty in a fighting career was that nothing was certain.
Chapter Seven
Chelsea
So much for making an impression.
Correction: so much for making agoodimpression.“Girl with coffee on her boob” wasn’t exactly the gold standard. Or the silver or the bronze, for that matter.
I rubbed at the stain with a damp paper towel, smearing it and making my shirt semi-see-through while leaving teeny pieces of brown paper to go with the permanent brown tinge the coffee had left. I frowned at my reflection in the bathroom mirror of the office building and, with a sigh, tossed the paper towel in the trash. Then I positioned myself under the hand dryer. A woman with sleek chestnut hair—the kind of hairdo I’d tried before remembering that San Diego’s humidity meant straight wasn’t a possibility—stepped into the bathroom and gave me a concerned look with a hint of condescension.
“Don’t worry about me. I’m just drying my coffee boob.” I swear my spirit self floated up and out of my body to tell my mouth to stop, because when in the history of ever had explaining made me seem anything but crazier, but I kept on going because I couldn’t even listen to my spectral self. “For the record, the caffeine doesn’t work faster if you pour it directly onto your skin.”
She gave me a tight smile and ducked into the nearest stall. The heat from the dryer soaked into the underwire of the pushup bra that helped give the illusion I had boobs and began to burn my skin.
“Ouch, ouch, ouch. Guess that’s as good as it’s going to get.”
“Are you talking to me?” the brunette asked, her voice slightly muffled by the stall door. “Because I prefer silence while I’m…yeah.”
“Just talking to myself. Until now, of course. I’ll, um, leave you to it.” Yep. I should seriously have a real-life lock for my lips. The mimed version was too easy to break. The splotch of watered-down coffee was only slightly less visible now, and I wished I’d brought a jacket. I’d been all cocky about the warm weather. It was like being home threw off my game instead of improved it, and with so little game to start, I needed every ounce I could get.
On my way out of the bathroom and into the tiled lobby of the building, I nearly collided with Brad, my manager. He steadied me with a hand on my arm.
“Sorry,” I said. “Just so excited to get started.”
An easy smile spread across his face. “Morning, Chelsea. I’m digging this time change. Feels like I got to sleep in forever.”
“Yeah, if only my cat would let me sleep in—he’s still stuck in mountain standard time, and he’s not exactly patient when it comes to waiting for breakfast.”
My boss nodded, that blank expression with accompanying nod that often happened when I talked about George. Ten minutes in, and I was already oozing awkward right and left. Brad glanced at my coffee boob but nicely pretended not to notice the stain—as much as I wished otherwise, I didn’t delude myself it’d magically disappeared, although I knew looking at it myself would invite more looking. “Shall we get started, then?”
I gestured toward the office door. “After you.”
“No, I insist.” He opened the door for me and everything. The guy was one of those mild-mannered, gentlemanly types I tried to convince myself I liked. I mean, I did. Not that I planned to cross lines with my boss, but I had that problem of comparing everyone to Liam, who was a gentleman in a lot of ways. And in a lot of others he was…rugged, unrepentant, stubborn, kind of bossy, and sexy as hell. That last one wasn’t so much a gentleman-or-not trait. Just a fact I couldn’t help noticing this morning as I ate the eggs he made me while he gave me a pep talk. Good thing I was totally over my silly, unrequited crush on him.
Yeah, super over it. That’s why I’m thinking about him right now instead of focusing on what I should be focusing on.
Time to prove that not only am I good at my job, I can be assertive.
Once we reached the conference room, I took my place to the right of Brad, and we introduced ourselves to the people who’d been hired through a mix of phone and video interviews. I’d vetted several of them, and the insecure side of me experienced a tiny pang of jealousy when I realized the one with the most impressive résumé was Ashlee Simmons, the brunette from the bathroom. She looked like the type of girl who’d made snide comments about me in high school.
For a second I thought about trying to win her over with my charm, but then Liam’s words about not being here to make friends ran through my head. If I was going to move up to a position where I could choose my own accounts and make a real difference, I needed to learn how to get tough and exude a boss vibe.
Tough yet encouraging.I’d have to ask Liam for more tips on how to pull that off. I’d seen him train a lot of fighters, and while he was tough to the point I worried he might break a few of those big muscled dudes, he encouraged them and made them stronger, too.I can do this. I’m gonna prove I’m management material.
…
