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Well, fuck.
“I haven’t talked to him since…well you know. And no one’s mentioned him.”
Not since she found out he’d kept a really fucking big secret from her.
“So ask Kira for a—”
“I can’t ask Kira about Charlie.”
“Why the hell not?”
Belatedly she glanced around my office. There wasn’t anything special about the room I tried my very best to spend as little time in as I could. Unlike the others, I hadn’t added a single personal item to the space. The cream walls were bare. The desk had a closed laptop sitting on it and nothing else. A high-back leather chair that I had to admit was comfortable as fuck, but still I loathed my ass being in it. And two chairs on the opposite side of the desk.
Nothing else.
“Is this your office?” she asked.
I knew she was deflecting but something in her tone made me answer, “Yep.”
Her eyes moved around the room again, going as far as craning her neck to look behind her.
“You’ve worked here awhile,” she rightly pointed out.
“Yep.”
“Have you not moved your stuff in?”
Stuff?
I had no idea where she was going with this and we had a meeting to get to.
“We got people waiting on us—”
“Why haven’t you decorated your office?”
We didn’t have time to talk about the state of my office. But since this topic seemed to mean something to her I gave her what she wanted in hopes we could get back to Charlie and why she felt she couldn’t ask Kira for an update.
“I come in here only when I have to. Get work done then get the hell out. I’m not a behind-a-desk kind of guy.”
Her gaze came back to me.
“I can see that. But still, where’s your stuff?”
“What stuff?”
“You know, pictures of family. Awards. Cool snapshots of you and your buds in multi-cam strapped with gear. A plant. I don’t know, posters of hot chicks on Harleys or bathing suit models on the hoods of hot rods. Stuff.”
I didn’t find it pertinent to the conversation to tell her I’d never had a poster—not hot chicks, not bathing suit models, not of a band, nothing. Growing up, my mother would lose her mind if I tacked something up in my room. A half-naked woman would’ve sent her into cardiac arrest. My father wouldn’t have said anything one way or another about it. He deferred to his wife and followed the same rules of the house that I did.
“I see my family every day. Why the hell would I need pictures of them? As for the rest, I don’t need to display awards. I earned ‘em, don’t need to show that shit off like a douche who wants whoever walks in to know how important he thinks he is. I don’t need a plant in here because I’m never in here and I’d kill it. And I’m forty-five.”
“I know how old you are, Easton, but I don’t understand what your age has to do with anything.”
Of course she knew how old I was and not from me telling her. She had a full workup on my entire team.
“Right. So seeing as I’m a grown-ass man, bikini posters wouldn’t be douchey, they’d communicate to whoever walked in that I had a small dick and couldn’t get past it, never learned how to use the pinky dick those posters would say I had. We both know that’s not the truth. And straight up, posters are just lame.”
“You see your family every day?”
