Our Broken Pieces

Chapter 21

Mystic~

While Reagan's eyes widened in panic, I did my best to keep my face absolutely stoic. I prayed that I gave nothing away, and I pretended that I was at police headquarters, being interrogated for murder. My face wasn't going to give anything away, and my mouth was going to stay firmly shut.

This. Was. Not. Good.

The room was silent. Me, because I wasn't going to tell on myself. Reagan...well, I didn't know why she had clammed up. After all, she's the one that had met Mr. Cavanaugh before, so shouldn't their interaction be more...comfortable?

I waited for someone to crack first because it wasn't going to be me.

Five...four...three...two...

"Mr. Cavanaugh, uhm...Ms. Anderson approached me and...uh, expressed interest in helping me with some low-level accounts, and-"

"Ms. Contreras, Cavanaugh Industries doesn't have low-level accounts," he snapped, interrupting her, his reaction not a positive one. "Every client we have is held at the highest regard, whether they bring in a billion dollars or a nickel. Am I making myself clear?"

Reagan started nodding her head frantically. "Of...of course. I'm sorry, Mr.-"

Mr. Cavanaugh put his hand up to stop her, and it was clear that he knew that she was lying to him. "Then is it your position that Ms. Anderson came to you, and you handed her your accounts in an attempt to mentor her?"

Reagan's face relaxed, and I could tell that she thought that he was buying her bullshit. "Yes, sir. Exactly."

"Then why don't any of your low-level accounts have her name on them, giving her assisted credit?" he questioned.

Her jaw clenched at his use of the words low-level, and she wasn't doing a great job of schooling her facial features. She knew that she was in deep shit; that we were in deep shit.

"Uhm..."

"See, Ms. Contreras, I don't have a problem with mentoring or team building," he explained in a calming voice that I knew was a farce.

This man was pissed.

He was taking it as a personal affront that we'd done something behind his back. Even if the accounts had been handled expertly, we lied. We'd been sneaky about what we were doing, and Mr. Cavanaugh didn't look like the kind of man that took kindly to being hoodwinked.

"My issue is when work-excellent work-is done by one employee but taken credit by another, and that's exactly what the case seems to be in this instance." He arched a raven-colored brow. "Unless you can explain to me why Ms. Anderson's name was left off the final presented project details."

Reagan looked panicked, and Lacey wasn't offering any help. I didn't know Lacey well, but I was pretty sure that Lacey was going to save herself here, and she was doing so by waiting everyone out to see who would be in less trouble; me or Reagan.

However, as much as I despised Reagan, and as much as Lacey was turning out to be a coward, I couldn't sit by and not take responsibility for my part in this shitshow. "Mr. Cavanaugh, while it is obvious Reagan and I didn't exactly follow procedure, I benefited from this...uh, arrangement every bit as she did. Reagan may have received all the credit, but I gained a lot of experience doing her-uh, working with her."

I refused to be a coward.

I refused to be intimidated.

I'd already done that once before, and my life was one that lacked happiness because of it.