Friction(12)

I pray Jace’s laugh won’t be cause for more trembling once I’m in the office.

"I’m going to enjoy this,” he says. “See you tomorrow night."

Enjoy what? Before I can ask, though, there's nothing but silence on the other end, and I'm left staring down at my dark phone screen.





Four





Lucy





5:47 PM: You should wear red. And don’t forget to send me a snap when you’re dressed. Holy shit, I still can’t believe you’re working for tall, hot, and British!

Jamie’s text comes through as I sort through unpacked boxes and my closet, searching for something to wear for my first day—well, night—at EXtreme. I promise her I will then toss my phone on my bed. Keeping Jace’s request in mind—no fancy dresses or high heels or anything of the sort—I finally settle for business casual.

I don a fitted black blazer, a white button-down blouse, and slim lipstick red pants that I pair with black ballet flats. Feeling a bit adventurous, I ramble through my vanity drawers until I find the tube of red lipstick my mother gave me a couple of weeks ago at Christmas because the shade name, Saigon, made her think of home.

I take a photo of myself and send it to Jamie on Snapchat—before she texts me about it again, like she’s done three times in the last two hours—then I leave my room and find Mom. She’s in the living room, curled up on the couch with a crochet blanket pulled to her chin as she watches the episode of Dancing with the Stars she missed earlier this week. Mom's got a thing for the Chmerkovskiy brothers—she swears Maks reminds her of my father when he was young, but I don't see the resemblance since Dad was a green-eyed strawberry blond.

She adjusts the volume down a few notches but doesn’t glance up from ogling Maks. "Leaving now?"

"Almost. Have you seen my keys?"

She jabs her finger in the direction of the kitchen. Good grief, I swear she's another twirl and dip away from drooling all over her blanket. "They’re on the microwave. You shouldn't leave your keys and phone all over the house. It's careless.”

I sigh and back away from the doorway. Thankfully, she has her show to keep her occupied, and she probably won't bring up last month when I lost my old phone. If I’m forced to hear about how I came home after a night out with Jamie sans one shoe and my phone one more time, I’ll bang my head against the wall.

"You think red lipstick is good for your first day?" she speaks up when I return to the living room. Now, I have her full attention and her dark eyes appraise every detail of my appearance. “You should wear something plain.”

"Mom, relax." But I silently wonder if she's right. Knowing my luck, Jace’s client is some old guy with an antiquated belief that red lipstick is for loose women and strippers named Velvet. "If my boss thinks it's inappropriate, I'll wipe it off."

Her own lips set in an opposing line. "It might stain.”

"And whatever I put on will cover it." I sink down beside her on the sofa, securing a deep scowl when I plant a kiss on her cheek. "See, some of it's already wiped off."

As I stand, she rubs her hand over her cheek and glances at the bright red color staining the tips. "I still think you should change the color.” But she tugs down the hem of my blazer and smoothes her palm over it. "Do you have your phone charger? Your pepper spray?"

"Yes, Mother." I feel like I'm seventeen again and going to prom. Only then, it was Dad teasingly telling my date that A) he had been in the Army, and B) he was from Mississippi, and he knew where all the best swamps were located.

"If I don't like something Mr. Exley says, I'll be sure to give him a quick blast of bear mace."

"You're a..." she starts as I open the front door, but I'm laughing so I can barely hear what she says. I imagine she's calling me a smartass.

It wouldn't be the first time.



I stress about the red lipstick all the way to Boston—up until the moment I walk through the entrance of EXtreme Effects. Because I need paper towels to do away with the bold pop of color, I’ve made up my mind to immediately find the bathroom and put on the muted pink Mom suggested I wear. But I stop short when I come face-to-face with Jace. He's parked behind Daisy's desk, his phone to his ear and both of his boot-clad feet resting next to a neat stack of paperwork.

I've never walked into my boss' office to find him with his feet on a desk.

Ever.

"Yes. No, but I'll put you in touch with her early next week," he's saying to whoever he's speaking to. As I start to back up to give him privacy, his slate-blue eyes connect with mine over the tops of his boots. “Stay,” he mouths.

To watch him talk on the phone? I take another step backward, causing his dark brows to arch.

Covering the receiver, he tilts his head to one side and gives me a stern look that leaves a hard knot in the center of my chest. "Weren’t you listening, Williams? I told you to stay.”

My face tingles. Nobody’s talked to me in such a commanding tone since I was an intern, and the fact it’s coming from Jace makes my head spin. Because it’s both offensive and—to my mortification—a slight turn on. I cross my arms over my chest and play with the leather strap on my purse until he speaks my name again.