Catching Avery

Chapter 7

Envy: Because both my eyes work, and them sonsofbitches are hot.

Avery~

It was Monday morning, and I could hear Chopin's Funeral March playing in my head as I walked in the building of SMA. The hangover that I'd woken up with on Saturday morning hadn't been as bad as it should've been, but the humiliation? That had been spot on.

Still was.

The level of embarrassment that I was feeling was going to need some serious therapy to overcome. The only bright spot that morning had been that, had Quinn made good on her threat to chop Chase into little pieces...well, then, I'd only have to live with my humiliation two-folds, instead of three. It hadn't been until she had called me later that day that I'd found out that Chase had still been alive and kicking.

Bummer.

I'd also found out during Q's phone call that, while she hadn't murdered Chase, she hadn't slept with him, either. He had turned out to be a perfect gentleman, and after making sure that she'd gotten into her apartment safely, he had set her up with some aspirin and water, then he'd given her a very chaste kiss good night. It had thrown me for a loop because it was exactly the same thing Nicholas had done for me. I supposed that for all their Neanderthal ways, they drew the line at taking advantage of drunk, sex-deprived, questionable women.

Lucky us.

So, I'd spent all day Saturday nursing my hangover and being lazy. On Sunday, I'd done my monthly girl-cleaning. Girl-cleaning was when I scrubbed showers, toilets, cleaned base boards, and all that jazz. Most people detail-cleaned every few months, but I did it monthly because I had neat and clean issues. Or just issues. Whatever.

Isabella had made her rounds on Sunday, checking on Quinn and me to make sure that we were okay. After I had assured her that she hadn't had to place me on suicide watch, she had confessed to going home with Julian. So, because we were those girls, and our secrets were ironclad safe with each other, she'd gone on to tell me that he was unlike anyone that she'd ever come across before. She hadn't gone into details, but her message had been loud and clear, and I'd found myself a bit envious. Julian Moretti looked like he had more than enough skills to put it down in the bedroom, and I bet his aggression was all natural, no roleplaying required. The only problem was that it wasn't Julian that made me breathless. It was that prick, Nicholas Savage.

I made my way across the lobby along with fifty other people ready to report for work. I looked around for Quinn, but I couldn't find her in the massive throng of co-workers. Maybe she arrived earlier and was already at her desk.

I cattled myself into the elevator with about seven other employees, feeling like I was on my way to face the executioner, and it sucked. Still, the actual elevator ride wasn't that bad since the number of occupants was actually a blessing. We could cram a good ten people in one of these puppies if we tried. I rode the elevator up to the fourth floor, all the while listening to people make small talk about their weekends when all I wanted to do was forget mine.

We finally made it to our floor, and as we filed out, one of my co-workers, Angela, asked me that dreaded question. "How was your weekend, Avery?"

"Boring and uneventful, but thanks for asking." I was so paranoid that I didn't even return her question. I just ran to my cubicle like the coward that I was.

After I got to my desk, I locked my purse away, then turned on my computer. I stared at it for a full two minutes before opening my email. What if there was something from Nicholas? Or any of them? I felt so unsure, and I was surprised that I wasn't having a full-on panic attack.