“Can you calm down? Jesus.”
Himeko stuffed an orange macaroon into her mouth. “Can you shut up?”
Amir scowled. Then, as though commanded to, the two of them turned and smiled at Mara. “Thanks for the biscuits, boss.”
“Yeah. And nice outfit.”
Mara looked down at her Alexander McQueen playsuit and gold Valentino pumps.
She tried to hide her discomfort at being in front of her staff by dressing the part. It didn’t help, but at least she was taller than usual.
She took a seat at the edge of the conference table and watched the fray. Some, like Ben and Sadie, hovered over the box like jewel collectors, only taking a single, carefully selected macaroon. Others, like Christopher and Himeko, grabbed at random and ate standing so they could go back for more. Pan raced around the room, clamoring to join the macaroon fray.
Tegan paused, a blue macaroon halfway to their mouth. “Hey, Ms Kennedy, are you sticking around ‘til Chase gets here?”
Mara had given up on asking her staff to call her by her first name, but ‘Ms Kennedy’ still made her wince. At least it was better than ‘boss.’
“I think so. We need to debrief about the Terrace Avenue sale and go over a few things.”
Tegan and Himeko exchanged looks.
“Does that mean…” Tegan asked delicately. “That we might possibly be…?”
Mara smiled. “Ordering in for lunch? Go ahead.”
Himeko turned on her colleagues. “You all remember the rules? All options in a hat and then we draw. And if anyone puts down KFC—even as a joke—I will slap them.”
Mara expected someone to tell Himeko to calm down again, but everyone stared back at her, nodding gravely.
“Maybe you guys could include a veto option?” she suggested. “Make it a little less stressful?”
Himeko whirled around. “Of course, boss! We totally can.”
Mara wished she hadn’t said anything, but before she could tell them to do whatever they liked, the conference room door swung open, and Chase strolled in. “Morning, vermin. Morning, Mara.”
His employees bolted for their chairs, leaving rainbow crumbs in their wake. Chase glared around at them. “Macaroons?”
Mara raised her hand. “I brought them.”
“Yes, I’d guessed that. My question was more along the lines of ‘why?’”
Himeko held up a slightly squashed green macaroon. “Chill out, boss. We saved you one.”
Chase’s nostrils flared. Ignoring Himeko, he turned to Mara. “You don’t need to get the team hyped on sugar every time you’re in, you know?”
Mara shrugged. “Sorry?”
Chase sighed, dropping into his seat at the head of the table. “All right, minions. Who wants to hear about the house?”
“Did you get the sale?” Himeko asked through the green macaroon.
“I did.”
A small cheer rang around the office.
Blaire raised her hand. “How much did it go for, Chase?” she asked shyly.
Chase had a rainbow flag and framed picture of Andy on his desk, but that didn’t matter. He was handsome and well-spoken, and a few of their female employees had a thing for him. Mara had had a thing for him when they’d first met—not sexual, but definitely romantic. She’d wanted him to like her. To trust her. She’d wanted to be his friend.
“Three point six million,” Chase told the room.
Amir whistled. “That’s not great.”
“No. Joseph Fleming from Scenic Views was bidding just to spite me.” Chase cast Mara a meaningful look. “They’re getting angrier. Every idiot there knew who I was. One of them heckled me. Next time I wouldn’t be surprised if things escalate.”
Everyone’s faces turned to her like sunflowers and Mara tried to smile reassuringly. “Next auction, we’ll send Amir.”
Amir looked slightly sick. “I don’t know if I’m ready.”
“You will be. You’ve got this.”
Chase was watching her, trying to get her to look at him. She kept her gaze on Amir. “So, we’ve got Terrace Avenue. What now?”
Chase drummed his fingers on the table. “We get the wheels turning. Sadie, call Kate McGrath and tell her to start drawing up plans for the plot. Himeko, get onto finance and ask them—”
“Hang on a second,” Tegan interrupted. “You’re speeding past our favourite bit. What was the auction like?”
“Yeah,” Christopher said. “How many rich people did you outbid? Did anyone cry? What was everyone wearing? We want details.”
There was a general chorus of agreement. Chase cast her a look and Mara raised her eyebrows. “Go on then.”
“Oh fine.” Chase leaned back in his chair. “It was a standard auction. Nibbles, men in ugly suits, white women named Jessica.”
The staff exchanged gleeful looks.
“The auctioneer, who was a buffoon even by real estate standards, was winding up all of the couples, and all the developers were in their little corners tittering together. Then the strangest thing happened…”
“What?” Himeko said, enraptured.
“So, the entire time, I was wondering who this huge guy flirting with the little waitress girl was. He had a shaved head and all these tattoos and a big, dirty moustache. I thought the Hells Angels must have needed a new clubhouse.”
Everyone laughed.
Mara watched Pan curling on the carpet, her fur shifting and shining under the fluorescent lights. She knew who Chase had seen at the Terrace Avenue action. She knew the way she sometimes knew a TV was going to show his face. Like the smell before rain.
“… the auctioneer said it was some famous footballer.”
“Who?” Tegan demanded.
“Oh, I don’t know. Derek-Something.”
Despite her premonition, Mara’s stomach clenched.
“Not Derek Hardiman?” Amir asked.
“That’s the one.”
Tegan gasped. “Holy shit, he’s a big deal.”
“I gathered that. But I outbid him, so he can fuck off.”
“What was he like?” Christopher demanded.
“Tall.”
“Come on! You have to have more than that?”
“I don’t know. Intense.”
Derek was intense. He always had been. The day he’d arrived in her English class, he’d scared her. He had the body of a full-grown man and an angel tattoo embedded in his neck. And because teachers were mean and relied on shy kids to contain the loud ones, Mrs Woodley seated them beside one another. Tiny, insignificant her beside huge, popular him. The guy who looked like he ate nails for breakfast.
She shivered and thankfully no one had noticed.
“You’re blind,” Ben said to Chase. “He’s everywhere! He did that Calvin Klein ad. And he did stuff for that food app that was all over Instagram.”
“I did see that,” Chase admitted. “I didn’t recognise him with a shirt on. And that hideous moustache.”
“I don’t give a fuck about the moustache,” Himeko shouted. “I would. In a second. Who else?”
“Inappropriate,” Chase snapped.
“I would,” Blaire whispered, blushing.