Page 116 of Outcast
Subject line: Just talk to me
“I don’t think so,” I murmured.
I smashed the Delete button, sending it to the abyss. I’d blocked Dallas on social media, but maybe that wasn’t such a good thing if he was trying to reach me at work. What if he showed up here and claimed to have a meeting with me?
My stomach tightened at how the hell I’d explain that.
Dad leaned in through the open doorway, a coffee cup in his hand. “Hey, Emory, did you finish the paperwork for the Livingstons?”
I blinked, trying to wrangle my thoughts back to work. “Uh, yep. Also, I sent you an email about the Jerkers funding. They’ve got more coming in soon.”
Dad brightened as he entered my office. “That’s great, Emory. You know, when I handed you those delinquent cases, I knew you’d hate doling out the bad news. But you really went the extra mile to help those folks.”
“I couldn’t help them all,” I said, guilt twisting at the foreclosure call I’d had to make that day. Someone had lost their home, and I didn’t take that lightly.
He took a seat in front of my desk. “Sadly, that’s life, and you’ll have to accept some bad outcomes cannot be avoided. But you made a difference for the Morrisons and the Forrester Auto guys.”
My stomach flip-flopped at the mention of Gray and his brothers. “They still have all that debt, and they had to risk their house as collateral.”
Dad sipped his coffee. “You gave them the chance to pay it off. Now it’s up to them to see it through.”
Shayla approached the doorway. “Am I interrupting?”
“Nope.” Dad stood up. “Just came by to remind Emory of the Movers & Shakers Brunch on Sunday. I just RSVPed for you since you’d apparently missed the three reminder emails to get that done.”
I was hoping he wouldn’t notice that. I should have known better.
“Sorry, Dad. I’ll be there.”
“Is there room for one more?” Shayla asked. “I’d love a chance to make more connections too.”
Dad hesitated. “Sorry, Shayla, but it’s past the date to add seats.”
Her face fell. “Oh. Right.”
“She could have my seat,” I offered.
I hated the schmooze-fest events Dad kept sending me to. It was just lucky for me that Gold Community Bank had a reputation that did most of the heavy lifting for me. I was no good at networking. I detested the dick measuring and douchey boasting that happened at these events.
Dad frowned. “Sorry, Emory, you need to be there. We’re part of the community, and one day, you’ll take over for me. It’s best you get comfortable being the face of the bank.”
He stood and patted Shayla’s shoulder. “We’ll get you out at the RiverFest. You can work the booth.”
“Sounds great.” She smiled and nudged him as he passed. “Coffee at 5:00 p.m.?”
“Something’s gotta get me through that last hour,” he said with a chuckle.
As soon as he left, Shayla dropped into a chair with a groan.
“Tell me about it,” I said.
She gave me an incredulous look. “Are you complaining about a free breakfast at a fancy restaurant with all the big money in town when I have to go sit at a booth for eight hours in the sweltering sun and talk to every random Joe who wants to know how to open an account or complain about bank fees?”
“Well, when you put it that way…”
She huffed. “You don’t even get how lucky you are.”
My insides twisted. Ishouldappreciate the role I played here. My dad put his trust in me. He wanted to prepare me for ownership of a cornerstone business in Riverton.
