Page 17 of Mr. Big Shot

“Here’s your turkey club.”

I take my sandwich and am about to curve around the edge of the food court and head toward the elevators. That’s the plan, at least until I somehow get lost on the way and end up right in front of Scarlett.

She’s looking down. She hasn’t seen me. From this angle, she seems so small and fragile.

Christ, when’s the last time I thought that about someone?

“What are you doing?” I ask the question brusquely, but that’s just how I talk. Ask Lucy; she’ll confirm my factory settings are gruff or gruffer.

Scarlett’s head shoots up in surprise, and I love watching the flurry of emotions race across her face. First is shock, but that quickly gives way to suspicion. I see it all in her inquisitive brow. Then, oh yes, anger. Her red lips thin into an annoyed line.

“I’m eating,” she says pointedly. She doesn’t like that I’ve come over here and interrupted her, I guess. Or who knows—I can’t possibly begin to understand this girl. All I know is she’s looking up at me with a scowl like she’d like me to excuse myself as efficiently as possible. I bet she’s wishing she had an evacuation button she could employ.

“Why not with them?” I tilt my head in the direction of the other first-years.

She looks their way and then turns back quickly, her cheeks turning red again. “Who cares? Does it matter? I’m just finishing up my salad while I read.”

She flips a page to prove her point. I’ll just bet she wasn’t done reading it yet. She’ll have to turn back when I walk away. The thought almost makes me laugh.

“Is it the last-name thing? Like you can’t deign to lower your standards and befriend a group of regular people?”

Her jaw drops. “Are you kidding?”

Okay good, so she’s not a snob.

“So then they’re being assholes.”

That’s what I assumed, and I’m glad my intuition was right.

“Your brother came to my office this morning. That marks two visits from family members warning me to go easy on you. Should I expect your mother this afternoon?”

She rears back, surprised, and I wonder if she knew about either visit. Her tone lightens a little with her reply. “My mother’s in Europe, so no. But…don’t be shocked if you get a call from Wyatt or Conrad.” She sounds resigned as she continues, “They’re just as protective as Barrett.”

Then she looks back down at her book, turning yet another page. Dismissing me again. At this rate she’ll have to turn back a few chapters once I leave.

“I want you to sit in on a call with me this afternoon and take notes.”

She looks up and blinks fast, trying to compute this new task in her head. “Okay, I’m supposed to finish up a draft of a contract for Sophie, but I can push that and—”

“I don’t need your entire life story. Find a way to be in my office for a 4:00 p.m. phone call.”

Then I walk away before I do something stupid, like ask her if she wants to come and eat lunch with Lucy and me.

Chapter Seven

Scarlett

I’m in the lobby outside Hudson’s office by 3:50 p.m. and not a minute later.

Lucy’s at her desk, watching a little TV that’s set up on the built-in counter behind her desk. It’s barely a foot wide in any direction with a grainy screen and a slot for a VHS tape.

“How old is that thing?” I can’t help the question from tumbling out.

“Shhh! It’s just getting good. She’s about to tell him the baby isn’t his.”

She’s watching a soap opera. While at work.

I have so many questions…

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