Same night, same too

"Can I skip Friday?"

I kept my voice low, phone pressed hard against my ear, the stairwell door shut behind me so nobody at my new desk could hear.

Vince laughed like I'd told a joke. "Skip it? You're the one they asked for. You don't skip the good bookings, that's how you stop getting good bookings."

"I have a conflict."

"Everybody's got a conflict. Show up, do two hours, walk out with more than you'd make in a week anywhere else." His voice dropped, almost kind. "I know your situation. Just show up."

He hung up before I could argue, which was fair, because I didn't have an argument that didn't sound like a confession.

I splashed water on my face in the stairwell bathroom and went back to my desk like nothing had happened, because that was the only version of me anyone at Doyle Group was allowed to see.

"Ms. Whitfield." Marcus stopped by, a folder in his hand. "Mr. Doyle needs the Friday details confirmed before noon. Client dinner, downtown, off the usual venue rotation. Some place his sister recommended."

"Which place?"

"Don't have the name yet. Just the time." He was already moving on to something else.

I told myself downtown had a hundred private dining rooms. I told myself that twice more before lunch, and it worked exactly as well the third time as it had the first.

Adrian was standing by the window when I walked past his office, phone to his ear, one hand braced against the glass, jaw tight in a way I recognized from the sidewalk two days ago. Whatever the call was, he didn't like it.

He hung up and caught me watching.

"Everything all right?" he said.

"Just waiting on the Friday details for Marcus."

"Rachel picked the venue. Says it has the best private rooms in the city." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Client's important. I'd rather be home with Sophia."

"Sophia's your daughter."

"Eight years old and smarter than half my board." The line around his mouth softened, the first crack in him I'd seen all week. He stepped closer without seeming to notice he'd done it, close enough that I caught the smell of his aftershave over the coffee on his desk. "You have a kid too. Ethan, right?"

"He's eight too."

"Small world." He didn't smile, not quite, but he didn't look away either, and for a second neither of us moved. Then his phone buzzed against his palm and he looked down at it like he'd forgotten it was there. "Get me the venue name the second Marcus has it. I like to know where I'm walking into."

"Of course."

He held the door for me on my way out, his hand stopping an inch from my shoulder before he pulled it back and reached for the handle instead. I told myself it meant nothing. I hadn't believed that the first time either.

Rachel called at three, her voice bright as always. "I found the perfect place for Friday. Very discreet, very private. Adrian's client will love it."

"Sounds like you've thought of everything."

"I try." She laughed. "How's the job going? Is my brother being difficult?"

"He's been decent, actually."

"High praise, two days in." A pause, warmer. "I worry about him. He works too much, doesn't let people in easy. I have a feeling you'd be good for him."

"I appreciate that, Rachel."

"I should let you go. I just wanted to say hello." Her voice softened. "You looked so lost outside that hotel. I'm glad things are turning around for you."

I thanked her and hung up, and sat there a moment thinking about how little she knew, and how much I was starting to hope she never would. I thought about the doorway too, his hand stopping an inch short of my shoulder, and how many times since then I'd circled back to that half second without meaning to.

At four thirty, Marcus dropped a printed confirmation on my desk without a word.

I looked down at the name at the top.

The Silver Room.

I read it twice, like the letters might rearrange themselves into something else if I stared hard enough. They didn't. Same address I walked into six nights out of seven. Same back room Vince had already told me was booked, my name attached to it before I'd ever agreed to anything.

Adrian's dinner and my Friday shift were the same night, the same room, and I had three days to figure out how to be somewhere he would never see me and somewhere I couldn't afford to skip, both at once.