Page 69 of Be Your Anything
She gives me a grin. “I can’t imagine why. You just laid the smackdown on Ellison fucking Tillman.” Her head shakes from side to side in slow disbelief. “I ate that shit up like you couldn’t imagine in your wildest dreams.”
I let out a resigned chuckle and finish collecting my paperwork, which is spread across my end of the table.
“Well, I’m not trying to make a habit of it, so…”
I let my voice trail off, not wanting to waste any more time on Ellison’s bullshit.
Kerrigan takes the hint and begins sorting through the paperwork scattered everywhere.
“Lunch today?” she asks once we’re done and headed for the door.
I nod. “Fish tacos, please.”
“On it!”
She blazes from the room, a bullet of energy whipping through the central hub of the office as she makes her way back to her desk to put in an order for us at Al Fresco, the Mexican spot a few blocks away.
Kerrigan is a phenomenal assistant—hardworking, energetic, positive—and she has the unique perspective of having grown up in the world I’ve known my entire life, but without the money.
She was a scholarship student at Roth Prep, graduated a year or so behind me, and then went on to get her degree in three years from UCLA, also on a full ride. So, she’s seen the ins and outs, dealt with the rich bitches and chauvinists, and has come out on top with enough recommendations and experiences to impress even the patriarch of the Roth family, who typically only interacts with the well-to-do families of the South Bay.
I know I haven’t been working here long—even though I’ve been around this family and this foundation my entire life—but my hope is to give Kerrigan that ‘in’ she needs one day. At some point, a position will open up that she’ll be more than qualified for, but she’ll be passed over because she doesn’t come from the ‘right’ kind of family.
I want to make sure that doesn’t happen.
It’s one of those things about this life that are inevitable and unfair in the same breath, and it is one of the reasons why I try not to let Ellison bait me like she did today.
God, she’s so fucking infuriating. Sometimes I just wish life would deal her a swift and difficult hand she isn’t able to buy her way out of.
That thought makes me chuckle, and my shoulders loosen. As much as Ellison likes to make out that I’m some hoity-toity, name-dropping trust fund baby, she can’t get away from the fact that it’s reallyherwho fitsthatbill.
My office phone rings, snapping me back to the work environment and away from my irritation.
“This is Lennon.”
“Hey, Lennon. It’s Lucas.”
My stomach tumbles over at the sound of his voice. I take a deep breath and close my eyes, wishing I could hang up the phone without making things even more awkward.
“I’ve been trying to call you for a few days,” he says, and I wince, immediately grateful that he can’t see me. “And you didn’t come to brunch this morning.”
I know he’s been calling me, and that I skipped out on Monday Mournings.
I set my phone to silent and left it tucked away in my purse over the past few days, not wanting to deal with any of the aftermath or repercussions from the Fourth of July.
I didn’t want to deal with the fact that I had sex with him while his girlfriend was in town, or that I had to watch them together the following day, recognizing that look of lust on Remmy’s face as a mirror of my own and the way I look at him. Everything about this is my fault, a situation of my own making.
What’s that saying? You made your bed and now you have to lie in it? That’s where I’m at, though when it comes to Lucas and how I feel about him, I feel like all I’ve beendoingis lying. To him. To myself. To everyone.
And now it’s time to face that lie.
“Yeah, sorry,” I say after far too long of a pause. “I’ve been really busy with this fundraiser, and—”
“Lennon,” he interrupts.
I fall silent, my eyes blurring as I stare out my window to the ocean in the distance. I love this view, but right now, it’s doing nothing to soothe the wound inside of me that I inflicted on myself.
“Can I see you tonight?”
