Look at You

Chapter 20

20

Since I've neglected my workload all week, I don't make it to happy hour until 7 on Wednesday. I haven't heard from Cam all day, and as a rule I refuse to text first, so I don't know if he's here or not. I don't know if he received the lease Matt hopefully sent either, because I've been conveniently left off the damn email chain.

Callie's recovering from the vicious cold she's had all week, so instead of leaning up against the bar, flipping perfumed hair over her shoulder talking to Craig like she would be any other Wednesday, she is holding court with a handful of TechNetters at the usual table, a steaming cup of hot tea in front of her. That, I assume, is Craig's doing. There are a couple of free seats next to her for once, so I file in.

She reaches out and squeezes my hands as I approach, all the while continuing her current rant on the lack of seasonal produce available at the local grocery store. Apparently, they don't even have winter squash.

I look up toward the bar, contemplating which spirit could effectively numb the pain of my 11-hour workday when I see Mathias getting up from the far end of the table and heading our way. He's holding a huge pitcher of light beer and two cups.

He slams it down on the table and pulls out the seat across from me. "Want in?" He asks, like he's normal and this is normal for us.

I nod. "Yeah. Big pitcher, Mathias. Was that just for you?"

Mathias shakes his head, and I see his eyes dart to Callie quickly. He licks his lips, and even in the muted light of the bar, I can see his cheeks reddening.

"Oh. Oh." Someone, it seems, has a little crush. A crush on the girl who spends too much money on her appearance, according to him. I snort. Guess it's working for her, eh, Mat?

"Callie is apparently not drinking," Mathias says, ignoring me. "And I saw you come in with no beer, so. Here I am."

I unstack the cups and push them toward him. "Pour, baby, pour." Next to us, Callie is still talking viciously with her hands to the group of product managers that surround her. Taking her conversation with someone else as a slight, Mathias blows air out of his nose and downs three swigs of beer without coming up for air.

I let my eyes survey the bar for the first time since I arrived. Tonight, I feel like this place is going to get loud. It's already difficult to hear the person sitting next to you, and it's barely past 7 p.m. The bar is crowded, and tonight all the patrons are young—under 30 maybe. There's a drum set sitting in the far corner of the room where the pool table usually sits, which makes me think there's a gig here tonight or tomorrow. I see Craig serving drinks with his typical deftness, his flat brim pulled down over his scraggly hair like it's his uniform. The lights are dimmer than they would be at 5, but it's not as dark as it will be later. Cam is nowhere in sight.

I break the rule and send him a text because I want to know about the lease. And only the lease.

hey, did you hear from Matt Clay?

I let my phone sit face up on the table while we drink. He hasn't responded yet, which is very atypical.

"How's it going?" I decide to engage with Mathias while I wait.

"Fine enough," is all he offers me. Nothing more, nothing less. I snort and tune into Callie's conversation about squash. At least that has substance.

My phone buzzes 10 minutes later, right as we're moving on to the beauty of a sweet potato.

Yeah. It all looks good. I gave him an OK. He should be sending me the official copy tomorrow. He wants to know when you want the lease to start.