Page 12 of Nothing But the Truth

She punched him in the shoulder and spun back to her desk. She grabbed the small mirror that tumbled from her makeup pouch and checked her reflection. Her face was still bare, though flushed, and her hair had dried into relaxed waves that, while not smooth and glossy, were not the unsightly mess she expected based on Chase’s reaction.

She dropped the mirror and looked to Oliver.

“Oliver, did I make a mistake? Do I need makeup and a tight dress to be taken seriously?”

He flattened his lips and glanced toward the door. “By guys like Chase, probably, but not by anyone who knows your value.” He softened. “But even for those of us who know and love you, it might take a little time. We’re not exactly used to weekend-casual Lucy at the office, you know? But if you want to lead the charge in freeing the modern career woman’s wardrobe from the grip of the patriarchy, I’m here for it.”

He squeezed her arm and she laughed, feeling better.

“While you confront the injustice, may I offer a suggestion? Be right back.” He spun out of the room on his heel and left Lucy alone.

She took a deep breath and assured herself her appearance was fine.

“Lucy?” yet another visitor called from the doorway. It was a bright, confident, commanding voice she knew well enough to set her nerves on edge.

Joanna.

Her boss, her mentor. The most stylish woman in the building—the person Lucy needed to impress above everyone else—was standing in the doorway.

She summoned every ounce of her training—skills Joanna herself taught her—to keep calm, to keep an assuring face.

“Joanna! Good morning.”

Joanna stepped inside the office and unconsciously reached for the necklace resting against her collarbone. The simple act showed her nerves. Lucy had picked up on the tell years before. It was the only way Joanna, strong-willed, powerful, confident Joanna, showed her vulnerability. She could level a boardroom with a gaze, tell an award-winning Hollywood director to get his shit together or else, hold her ground in big-time negotiations, but she couldn’t hide her nervous tic. She always touched her necklace when she was nervous.

Lucy had to assume she was nervous because of her unexpected appearance, whether she was aware of it or not.

“I was just dropping by to say happy birthday,” she said, though her eyes said more.

“Thank you.”

Before either of them could say another word, Oliver came sweeping back in the door with a colorful scarf fluttering from his hand. “Okay, I haven’t had the chance to wrap this, and I was going to give it to you at your party tonight, but I think it might give a little something extra to this bohemian look you’ve got going on. Oh. Joanna. Good morning.” He startled when he saw her, nearly jumping sideways.

“Good morning, Oliver.”

The three of them started at one another as awkward silence crowded into the small room. Lucy could see curiosity painted all over Joanna’s face as to why she was wearing what she was wearing and why Oliver was providing her assistance with her look.

“Everything all right?” Joanna asked.

They both looked at Lucy.

Lecturing Oliver was fine, but she didn’t really want to lecture the woman wearing Chanel and holding her promotion in her hands about the finer points of unjust wardrobe standards set for women.

She tried to make an excuse for her appearance, she really did, but her mouth wouldn’t work. She reached for the excuse Chase served up—dry cleaning accident; all my clothes were destroyed—but she couldn’t grab it. There was a tongue-shaped wall between the words in her mind and their form in her mouth.

But she had to say something because her boss was staring at her, waiting.

She threw caution to the wind and went for it.

What resulted was a gurgled nngrahup sound that only confused them all more.

Oliver played it off with a laugh. “Plumbing mishap; her apartment flooded, poor thing. The crew is there cleaning it up right now, but she didn’t want to be late since today is so important.”

Lucy threw him a glance so heavy with gratitude, it could have knocked him down. Then she looked at Joanna and shrugged for lack of a better idea.

“Sorry to hear that,” Joanna said as she checked her watch. “I hope it doesn’t spoil your birthday. See you in a bit.” She slipped out the door with the efficiency of someone on borrowed time.

“What the hell was that?” Oliver demanded as soon as she was gone. “You just stood there gaping like a fish. I get screw the patriarchy and all, but you couldn’t have come up with something?” He began folding the scarf in on itself to make it into a headband.

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