Page 69 of How to Hide in Plain Sight
So I did the only thing I could.
I pulled away and picked the knife back up.
Manuel looked down. Cleared his throat.
I did the same.
“So,” he said, eyes searching the dock below us, “tell me more about being a copywriter.”
I exhaled. Held back a laugh. “Are we…making small talk?”
A small smile pulled at his lips as his eyes darted up to mine. “I guess we are.”
Huh. Never thought I’d see the day.
“Why?” I asked. “You considering switching careers?”
“No,” he said. “It’s just…well, it seems like your schedule is pretty grueling, what with you never being able to come home for any holidays.”
Little alarm bells sounded in my head.No. This is not a good direction for the conversation, either.Lightly, I said, “You know how it is. The busiest times for e-commerce companies are during the times when everyone else is resting. Christmas and Black Friday, especially. But we have sales on all the other holidays, too. President’s Day, July Fourth, Memorial Day…all of that.”
“But that doesn’t explain why you never came to Cradle over the summer,” he said, and I knew that he was pushing for the information he really wanted. “Surely you had vacation days. Personal days.Sickdays, for God’s sake. You never took any of them?”
“I wanted to establish myself,” I lied smoothly. “To show that I’m committed to the job. You know, most investment bankers don’t takeanyholiday their first year on the job.”
“But you’re not an investment banker. You work a cushy tech job, and it’s no secret that those jobs come with plenty of benefits and a relaxed work environment.”
“You don’t know anything about my job,” I snapped. It came out too harsh, too defensive, even to my own ears. “You’re still in college. You’ve never worked full-time.”
Manuel’s voice softened. “I know. And that’s not really what I’mtrying to say. What I’m trying to say is…well, I know how work culture is in New York. And I know that OCD and work obsession, they…they go hand in hand, two passengers on one bus. That’s how my psych professor described it, anyway, and he—”
“Would you relax?” I slipped the blade back into the first incision on the trout’s back, edging it to one side of its spine. I kept my voice as light as humanly possible. “Just because Dr.Phil gave you a nice bus metaphor doesn’t mean everyone you know is riding it.” I sliced and, with one stroke, took nearly half the fillet with me.
“I just—”
“So I work a lot. I love my job, and it makes me happy. End of story.”
“I just want to make sure someone is keeping an eye out, you know, since you’re living alone and…”
“I’mfine, Manuel,” I said. “Okay? I don’t need another lecture. I’ve had enough to last a lifetime, thank you very much. Especially from my sister.”
“Right.” He looked down at the fish he was supposed to be filleting, a small perch caught by Clarence just after we landed the trout. It sat untouched. “I’m sorry. I just worry, you know? I worry about you being alone in the big city.”
“Yeah, well. Get in line. Queue starts behind my mom.”
“Well”—he picked up the knife by his knee—“let’s talk about something else.”
Finally.“Sure. Tell me about the food at Harvard.”
“Oh God.” He cut into the perch. Skewed left, missing the lateral line by a full half inch. “It’s complete shit.”
I half smiled. “And the rest of it?”
He shrugged. “You know. It’s college. It’s the Ivy League.”
“No.” I folded open the loose fillet and repositioned the knife. One long stroke and the entire fillet came free. “I really don’t know.”
“It’s an incredibly expensive way to get a high-paying job.”
