Page 82 of The Frog Prince
Returning to theoffice, I spot Olivia in the conference room talking to the man I hung out with in the VIP lounge Saturday night. Kirk, Katie’s friend, the DJ/journalist guy.
I hesitate in the lobby, uncertain whether I should go to my desk or stick my head into the conference room and say hello. Would Olivia be pissed that I’ve interrupted her meeting? Would it be rude of me not to say hello? But before I can make a decision, Kirk is rising from the boardroom table and heading my way.
“Holly,” he says, leaning forward to kiss me on the cheek. “I hope you don’t mind me dropping by.”
“You came to see me?”
He pulls out a driver’s license and hands it to me. “Yours, I believe.”
It is mine. “How…?”
“You must have dropped it when they carded you. The bouncer called me. He remembered you’d come with me, and I thought you’d miss it sooner or later.”
I would have, too, and glancing at my driver’s license, I see the address printed on the front, and it’s my old address in Fresno, the one in Old Fig, where I used to live with Jean-Marc. “Thanks.”
I can see Olivia hovering in the background. I don’t know if she’s waiting to speak with Kirk again or waiting to talk to me, but I’m suddenly in no hurry to get rid of Kirk. I’m tired of feeling as if I have to jump every time Olivia opens her mouth, tired of feeling half-rate, second-best, tired of the pins and needles, the worry, the guilt. I’ve done a good job here. I work hard; I help others; I’m a team player.
“Thirsty?” I ask Kirk. “Would you like coffee, soda? Bottle of water?”
“Water would be great.”
“Follow me.” I lead him out of the lobby, away from Olivia, toward our minuscule break room.
Kirk takes the water I give him, twists off the cap. “Olivia was telling me about the Leather and Lace Ball. Apparently it’s going to be bigger and better than ever this year.”
Olivia said all that? My eyebrows lift. Interesting. But it’s also one more reason for me not to trust Olivia.
But Kirk wants to know more about the Leather & Lace Ball because he used to attend a number of years ago, so I fill him in as much as I can, talking about changes, new things happening, and how at this year’s event there are the usual fun things but also an increased effort at public education the night of the ball.
I glance up as a shadow passes in the hall, and I think it’s Olivia, but it’s not. It’s David. I haven’t seen David in two weeks. He’s been off on another trip—something to do with the new office he’s planning on opening in Los Angeles next summer—and I put my water down as he enters the break room.
“David,” I say, and gesture to Kirk. “This is my friend Kirk—”
“Yahnian,” David finishes for me, extending his hand to Kirk. “You write for theGuardian. I love your column.”
Kirk registers surprise as well as pleasure. He shakes David’s hand. “Thanks. It’s nice to hear.”
“What did you think of the article theChronicleran?” David asks.
“A great piece, especially coming from the mainstream media.” Kirk leans back against the break-room counter, arms crossed over his chest. “I’ve just written a column in response to theChroniclestory. It’ll be in Sunday’s edition.”
“I’ll look for it.”
My cell phone rings, and I reach into my bag. “Excuse me,” I murmur, and leave the conference room to take the call.
It’s Josh. “Well?” he demands. “Just who is that guy anyway?”
“Why? Are you interested in him, too?”
“Interested in a guy?” Josh pauses, hugely offended. “Holly, I’m not gay.”
“I didn’t say you were—”
“So why would I be interested in a guy?”
“I don’t know.”
He swears. And I’ve never heard Josh swear. “I’m sorry, Josh,” I say. “I didn’t mean anything by that.”