Chapter Text
Charlotte eyes the amber liquid and the golden hint of the ice cubes. She pokes them with her nail to hear them clink together against the glass and she watches as they float back up to the surface but remain half submerged like tiny icebergs. Wrapping her fingers around the glass, she feels the cold seep into her skin, and she feels her eyes blur over and she feels the wet press of tears against her skin. Her eyes flicker back towards the sports news report that’s currently breaking across the large tv on her wall.
“The San Francisco Royals were today dealt the most crushing blow in the club’s history when a sporting tribunal ordered the club to be stripped of their recent Championship win and forced to start next season with a 30 point deduction.”
“Several Royals executives, including owner Ric Flair, have been accused of arranging and bribing amenable referees and assistants to officiate at games involving the club.”
“Flair, who is expected to resign as CEO of the Royals with immediate effect, has called the decision a disgrace. He said: The 30-point deduction is not acceptable. It is a disgrace. We thought we would get a more balanced verdict and we were obviously wrong to trust these judges. The Royals will appeal against the verdict, we want to safeguard our fans and shareholders -"
Charlotte switches the tv off with the remote and takes a large gulp of the drink in her hand, feeling the keen burn on her tongue and at the back of her throat – a burn that usually makes her recoil instinctively but not right now. She lowers the glass to the table, letting it go heavily, but not so heavily that any of it spills over.
“Sweetheart -"
“Don’t sweetheart me, Tyler. In fact, just don’t say anything because I don’t want to hear it right now.”
“We need to act fast, Charlotte. You know –"
“I know that this club has been in my life for the last twelve years and I can’t believe my father would do something so stupid!” Charlotte lets out a staggered breath and walks towards the window of her apartment: the city below sprawls out like a concrete jungle. “Did you know?”
“I didn’t –"
“Don’t bullshit me. You’ve been my father’s right hand man for 10 years, I know he tells you pretty much everything. More to the point, you’re supposed to be my fiancée so I don’t think now is the time for more lies, do you?”
“No.” Tyler stands behind her and wraps an arm around Charlotte’s waist to bring her closer towards him, and Charlotte finds that she can’t really sink into it. Not right now. Not with everything running through her head. “I didn’t know about the bribery, I knew he was desperate for the team to win something again. We all were.”
“Not like this!” Charlotte bites back as she turns around. “I asked you months ago if something was going on because even I knew the results were odd and you said no.”
“I didn’t know he’d actually gone through with it.”
“Are you… are you really trying to feed me that nonsense? Do you know what this means for this club? Do you know what is going to happen? It’s a fucking mess.”
“You should take over,” Tyler says, and he plants a kiss on Charlotte’s cheek. The stubble on his face scratches against her skin and she tries not to cringe at it – at him and them – but she fails because this whole situation is a total hot mess. “You know it’s coming, it’s just a matter of time.”
“I don’t know the first thing about being a CEO.”
“We – you, will learn.”
*****
Charlotte is as hungover as she has ever been.
She vaguely recalls the night before, crying into various cocktails, and later in the night, some sort of cheap whisky. That had been a massive mistake; she hates whisky and always has done. It burns your throat and it tastes like you’re chewing on old wood chips from the ground.
She wakes with a pounding headache, a growing certainty that something is very wrong and a gnawing feeling of nausea in her stomach that is beginning to crawl up into her throat. Then she remembers why she went drinking in the first place and feels her stomach roll violently again.
She is a CEO now.
CEO of an organisation that is wrapped up in a total shit storm and she has no idea where to even start with it all.
Charlotte is beginning to realise that something so delicately human like emotion will test you like nothing else. She is going to find out exactly who she is and exactly what strength she is capable of and what lines she might be tempted to cross. She is heading into the wilderness and she knows, without any doubt, that it will be very easy to get lost.
But maybe, just maybe, that is the whole point because when you get lost you usually get found.
*****
“Is there a world record for the longest headache?” Charlotte’s never been much of a complainer but in this situation she actually thinks she hasn’t complained enough. She usually has the patience of a saint, but right now she isn’t feeling too saintly. “Because if there isn’t, there should be and I should have that record.”
Dana sighs as Charlotte drops into the chair at her desk and begins to rub at the side of her right temple. The yoghurt and fruit she has been eating for lunch have become unappealing and she pushes them off to the side. Charlotte feels it for Dana too – she’s working almost as many hours as Charlotte is and things are still certainly strained with everything going on.
“Your three o’clock got cancelled. Mr. Ferdinand had to fly back home, some sort of family emergency. He said he’s forwarded documents to you in an email.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to vent to you.”
“Isn’t that part of my job?” Dana asks, easily.
“I thought your job was to be my assistant?”
“Oh,” Dana gestures aimlessly with her hand, “I can be there for you to vent to when you need me.”
Dana takes this job seriously and it is not simply because she wants to move up on the career ladder, it’s also because she feels a certain loyalty to Charlotte because Charlotte has given her a chance when others maybe wouldn’t due to her lack of experience, and given the circumstances she knows Charlotte probably needs someone else in her corner right now.
“Also, here.” Dana drops a small stack of papers on the desk in front of Charlotte and gives her a sympathetic smile. Charlotte returns it with a tired smile of her own and picks up the first file, skimming through it quickly before setting it aside from the others. Nope.
“I think she’s the best option,” Dana says, placing a perfectly manicured nail on the second file and pulling a few sheets out to place in front of Charlotte. “I mean… that’s the company your dad recommended and I gave the file a quick read through and she meets all the requirements. She’s apparently really good.”
Charlotte supposes that if her dad picked this security company then she should probably pay attention to it. Because although her dad has clearly made some monumental fuck ups – hello, look at the position she is currently in – Charlotte knows that her safety and security is not something he would ever take lightly so she knows she can trust his decision on this because quite honestly, security companies are not exactly her expertise.
“Rebecca Lynch,” Charlotte muses and picking up the front sheet of the file.
“Yes, Rebecca Lynch. Do you need me to stay and go over them all with you?”
“No, Dana, it’s fine,” Charlotte answers with a sigh. “Take your lunch now and I’ll look through the rest of them later, probably during the cancelled three o’clock.”
Charlotte places the sheet of paper down onto her desk before she leans back on her chair and twirls it around so that it is facing the giant floor to ceiling windows. The sky outside looks like nothing really. It is like someone has started to draw on it with coloured pencil and then just erased it in a way that everything is smudged and spread in a diluted dull blue colour.
She swings the chair back around and picks the file back up to look at it.
A bodyguard.
Charlotte has a feeling the whole thing will ultimately be a waste of time and she will never need a bodyguard but given the threats – real or not - that her family have had recently she doesn’t want to take any chances.
A female bodyguard had been Charlotte’s only request in the whole process because she figures that she deals with enough moronic men during the day now that she doesn’t really need to be adding to that unnecessarily.
When Dana asks her at the end of the day who Charlotte prefers, Charlotte pretends that she has gone over the other files and given the decision some serious thought before she slides Rebecca Lynch’s file back across the desk in Dana’s direction.
“I agree with you and my dad. She seems like the best fit for me right now,” Charlotte says.
*****
The office is painted grey and it has a window high on the wall that faces the parking lot, she can’t see anything out of it but she can hear the sounds of the street outside and the weak morning light is filtering through. There’s a laptop open on her desk, a bunch of newly pressed business cards and a stack of paper that is trapped underneath a planetarium themed paperweight.
It’s a state of half organised clutter but she understands the system and that’s all that matters as far as she is concerned.
“Miss Lynch, what you did for me and my wife was unfounded. I wanted to call you personally instead of just letting the payment do the talking.”
Becky leans back against her desk chair and tries to suppress the yawn that wants to break free from her mouth, she is glad that it is coming to the end of the week. “I was just doin’ my job, but I appreciate the gesture, Mr. Davis.”
“Protecting my wife from some crazy stalker isn’t just a job. That woman is my world -”
Becky lets him compose himself as she looks around her office. The walls are still bare and she hasn’t added any specific personal touches to it since they moved in a couple of months ago. She will get around to it at some point.
She lifts up one of the sleek black business cards from her desk and twists it around in her fingers. ‘Balor Security: For Everyone’. Becky’s name is on it along with her phone number and email. It is still kind of amusing for her to see it in print like that.
She is definitely not a rookie anymore. Picking up small time gigs at shitty nightclubs and hospitals are a thing of the past. In the last eighteen months Becky has grabbed any client she could get her hands on and worked her ass off. From guarding low budget award shows to being a private bodyguard for a rising actor and, more recently, a rising politician in Mr. Davis.
Becky’s reputation for the job has kind of sky rocketed and as a result she now she gets to be a little pickier about the jobs she takes on – small victories and all that.
“Thank you for protecting her. I have no idea how I’m going to be able to say thank you properly.”
“Mr. Davis, I take my job seriously. I promise you, the pleasure was all mine,” Becky says.
He talks for another few minutes before he has to go to a meeting and Becky is grateful. It’s not that she doesn’t like to know that she’s done a good job because she does, it’s just that hearing it repeatedly makes her feel all kinds of awkward because what else can she possibly say?
Just as she hangs up the phone, Becky hears the continual tapping of feet against the floor of the short corridor outside of her office. It’s Finn. Becky has got his walking rhythm down cold after all this time. Sure enough, within a few seconds, he pops his head around the door and motions with his hand for her to go with him.
“You’re up, Becky. I have a new client for you.”
Becky pushes back on her chair and lifts her suit jacket from the back of it, shrugging it on and feeling the fabric slip over her shoulders and arms. “That was quick, I just finished with Mr. Davis yesterday. Thought you’d be tellin’ me to take a few days off like usual.”
“As much as I want you to look after yourself, this –” Finn pauses, searching for the right thing to say. “This one is a biggie.”
Becky rolls her eyes as she follows Finn down the hallway, they walk past another few occupied offices and then down towards Finn’s own. “You say that about em' all.”
“I mean it this time.”
“Alright. So, I guess this person is important?”
“Y’could say that. The pay is real good though, I’ll say that much.”
Becky isn’t really sure what Finn means by that because important is important at the end of the day, there is no real middle ground when it comes to that, the client is either important or they aren’t. She slips into the office after Finn anyway, sitting herself down at the opposite side of the desk from his while he shuts the door over.
There’s a file on the desk already waiting for them.
Finn fully believes in discretion and yet despite that, his office is a bit like a rectangular greenhouse, both its walls and the door is made of reinforced glass so that the access works both ways - Finn can see out and employees can see in. He had once told Becky that it was something to do with good character and trust building, and that it was good for the working environment or some sentimental bullshit like that.
However, when he needs a little privacy for client briefings or meetings, he shuts the door and activates the black electric roller blinds that block out the rest of the world which is exactly what he does when he sits down in his own chair.
Becky decides there and then that this client is definitely important no matter how Finn tries to play it down.
Finn clears his throat. “What do you know about Charlotte Flair?”
Connecting some of the missing dots, Becky looks at the file and then back up at Finn. God, she hopes she’s wrong about this. “Why’d you wanna know that?”
“Just answer the question.”
“She’s Ric Flair’s kid turned brand new CEO,” Becky huffs out. “Ric Flair who has single handedly ruined the reputation of the Royals by bribing every referee in the state or close to it - the only decent women’s soccer team we have here for what it’s worth and everyone is going crazy about it. So if she is anything like him – an’ I’d imagine she is cause lets face it the apple never falls far from the tree - I’d say we’d be better off avoiding that kinda shit.”
Finn rubs at an invisible mark on his cheek before running his hand through his hair. It is meant as an act of consideration, but Becky knows it is because he disagrees with her. She resists the urge to roll her eyes because you would think after all their years of friendship he would know that Becky knows him and his ticks by now.
“You just finished an assignment with a politician,” Finn strings the word out slowly, as if it’s a horrible word that he doesn’t enjoy speaking, “but Charlotte Flair you have a problem with?”
Becky shrugs. “Should tell you everything you need to know about how I feel about it. Ask Nikki or -”
“It’s high profile, Becky. I need someone I can trust for this. Plus, she picked you, I heard back first thing this mornin’.”
“Finn, c’mon. You seriously can’t be givin’ me this job to protect her? Y’know I don’t like to work with those sort of people regularly. They are impossible to deal with, and spoilt, and the press will be everywhere and she’ll have all these stupid engagements -”
“An’ you can handle it.” Finn’s voice is firm and it makes Becky lower her brows like a child who is in a bad mood. She’s not getting out of this. “I put you forward for this cause’ you’re my first choice for the job. My only choice.”
Becky sighs, taking the file that Finn’s holding out and flipping it open. “Y’think I will be enough? This situation with her and her family probably isn’t somethin’ that’s gonna blow over.”
“You’ll have to be enough,” Finn answers. “Miss Flair insisted on one bodyguard only and that it be a female.”
“Awesome.” Becky pushes herself to her feet, file in her hand. “You better call her and get me her schedule then.”
“No need. I told her assistant you would meet her this afternoon to go over a few things.”
Becky is silent for a few moments before she lowers her gaze to meet Finn’s. “Today?”
“Today. Give the file a read over; all the info is in there. Don’t be late to the meeting and let me know how it goes. Oh, and Becky?”
“What?”
“Don’t let her rile you.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Becky says as she yanks the office door open and waves him off.
-
Much like most things in life, Becky’s cereal bar promises so much for an afternoon snack and yet delivers so little. It’s bland and overly chewy and it’s no use in all honesty. She wraps the rest of it back into the wrapper and tosses it into the glove compartment next to Charlotte’s file before locking it and stepping out of the car, grabbing her suit jacket from the back seat as she goes.
The building she is heading into is huge. It gallops into the sky and Becky has to crane her head backwards to see the top of it. The building reflects the light as good as any mirror and it makes the whole street seem brighter somehow.
The whole area screams money and wealth.
Becky had read through Charlotte’s file page by page after she had left Finn’s office, looking for any chink in the armour and she had come up short. Charlotte’s education is impeccable. She has no previous with anyone of note. There is no arrest record or anything like that. She is a model citizen by all accounts.
Impressive. Charlotte Flair is irritatingly impressive. That’s what Becky gets from her file anyway.
“Can I take your car, Miss?”
Becky hands the man the ticket she’d pulled from the gate and her parking pass in exchange for a valet – ticket, then she hands over her car keys. “Don’t have much choice, do I?”
“I can assure you, Miss, we will return your car the way you left it when you leave.” It’s a speech the man has said to people a million times before; Becky can see it in the way he smiles, it’s well rehearsed and she gets it, really she does. “It is security protocol.”
“Alright.” Becky watches as the man gets into her car and drives further into the garage until it disappears from view.
As she enters the building, she has to go through a security check with a dour faced officer who clearly isn't enjoying her time at work. Then she moves through to the main lobby of the building to obtain her visitor’s pass. Before long she is being shown to a large elevator by an escort and told to go to the fifty – seventh floor.
Becky’s never been a fan of elevator’s so the thought of being in one for over fifty floors has her a little rattled but also thankful that she didn’t eat the last of her cereal bar after all.
The elevator has white marble walls with a blue carpet, a silver handrail and a fancy little silver button pad that lets you press the floor number that you want. There’s also a little camera in the top left hand corner that’s blinking red every few seconds. The door shuts with a ping and the elevator leaves the ground with a little bump before it rises to the fifty – seventh floor without stopping and Becky’s stomach does that odd swooping thing at the sensation of it.
On the floor, she has to give her name and present her ID again before she’s told to take a seat in the waiting room. It doesn’t take long.
“Miss Lynch,” the woman says as she reaches her hand out in Becky’s direction to shake. “I’m Dana Brooke, Miss Flair’s assistant. If you would like to follow me.”
Becky honestly wouldn’t like to but that’s another story altogether. She is led down a corridor that is flanked by floor to ceiling windows. From this high the city below them looks like a giant man made canyon. There’s the flowing water of the cars and the pedestrian traffic moves along the riverbed of the sidewalks. Looking out from the windows that she passes, Becky can see far into the distance, and yet barely at all to either side; the view is all but concealed by other buildings, built so high that they seem to curve over.
“Miss Flair is expecting you,” Dana says as she knocks on an office door and then opens it so that Becky can step inside and get the first glimpse of the woman she’s going to be working for.
The office is large, luxurious and tastefully decorated.
Charlotte is standing behind an enormous desk and she is just as impressive in person as she is on paper.
The truth is she is beautiful.
And sure, Becky’s seen Charlotte Flair on the news various times and seen photos of her, so she’s more than aware of what Charlotte looks like but the camera – in either form - doesn’t really do Charlotte justice at all.
She is all flowing long blonde hair and piercing eyes and she’s wearing a midnight blue dress that contrasts against her skin. Her eyes get brighter the closer Becky gets to the desk. Her nails are perfectly done with glitter at the tips the colour of clear ocean water. There’s a rock on Charlotte’s finger that looks sickeningly expensive and her cheeks are slightly pink, Becky has the feeling it is because of frustration – she has seen it all before.
Charlotte arches a slender brow in Becky’s direction and puts her hand on her hip, then she opens her mouth and everything goes to shit.
“Sit.”
“Nah.”
Charlotte’s eyes flutter up to the woman in front of her as she sits down into her own desk chair. “What?”
“I’m not a dog,” Becky says sharply and she holds Charlotte’s gaze, watching her and Charlotte stops in her tracks.
“It’s Rebecca, right?” Charlotte questions, smiling in a way that she’s learned is endearing to most people. Apparently this situation is an exception. “Can I call you Rebecca?”
“I’d prefer Becky.”
Becky is dressed in a light grey suit. The jacket is snugly fitted around her shoulders, covering a white shirt that is as crisp as a brand new banknote and a pale blue tie. It’s not really what Charlotte had been expecting but then how would she know any different? She has never been in this situation before.
“Would you like to take a seat then, Becky?”
Becky doesn’t say anything for a moment but then she looks down at the chair that Charlotte gestures to, and then she pulls it out and away from Charlotte’s desk, and fuck. Charlotte already knows that she has made a total mess of this meeting.
“I can only assume that you’ve never done this before?” Becky asks.
“Look, Miss Lynch -” Charlotte holds her hand out for Becky to shake – better late than never – still looking at Becky with a small smile that certainly isn’t returned in any way.
Some people just have a look about them – you can notice them every now and then, in the line for coffee or at a check out line in the grocery store – like they fully expect their day to go to shit.
And if it doesn’t go to shit because of someone else then they are probably going to make it happen themselves.
Becky has that look about her.
“It’s Becky.” Becky’s eyes meet Charlotte’s own and then they drop down to Charlotte’s hand, and she reaches out to shake it hesitantly.
Charlotte exhales sharply and rolls her eyes. “Becky, I only agreed to this bodyguard nonsense because it was insisted. My dad recommend your company but I don’t want –“
“Let me get this straight, Miss Flair -”
“I’d prefer Charlotte.”
Becky stops talking at the smart ass interruption and tips her head back as she studies Charlotte. Charlotte who is clearly trying to push her buttons. Becky feels something pass between them but she can’t put her finger on it.
“Alright,” Becky says eventually. “Let me get this straight, Charlotte. I don’t wanna be here either but I’m here to keep you safe, so if you think that’s nonsense then that’s fine, I don’t really care. But I take my job seriously so you’re going to have to listen to me and help me do my job, whether you like it or not.”
An odd sensation hooks into Charlotte’s nerves, making her skin itch and her heart thud a little louder in her ears.
“This is the best my father could do?” Charlotte asks with a sigh. “A stubborn, headstrong, pain in the ass?”
Becky smirks for the first time then. She is a smug little shit, Charlotte decides.
“One of my many charms,” Becky says with a nod.
“It’s going to rain today. I hope your car or bike isn’t vulnerable to it.”
“I don’t drive my bike on duty,” Becky answers sincerely.
“Anything I should know about you?” Charlotte queries.
Becky knows what Charlotte is doing. She is going through a checklist of things to make sure Becky is right for the position. Despite the fact that Charlotte has already picked her out and requested her help, she is making sure that Becky fits the bill for whatever Charlotte expects. It happens in every job but Becky doesn’t think she has ever seen it so blatantly.
Either Charlotte is terrible at this, or she is too distracted by everything else to realise how terrible she is being at it.
Clasping her hands together in front of her, Becky leans forward so that she can lean them on Charlotte’s desk. “Well, my name is Becky and I’m your new bodyguard. That’s pretty much it.”
“No other facts?”
“Why’d you wanna know?”
“Well, we’re probably going to be spending a lot of time together. Just thought it would be easier -”
“I’m not here as your friend, Charlotte. Everything you need to know about me is in my file, which I’m sure you have read back to front.”
Charlotte shifts uncomfortably on her seat. Surprisingly, the thought of endless meetings and thousands of emails and phone calls, doesn’t seem so bad anymore.
Or maybe she could find a way to go back in time and read everyone’s applications properly for someone who clearly wants to be around her because Becky definitely does not.
And the feeling is entirely mutual.
*****
Charlotte manages four and a half hours sleep before her brain is fully awake again. She keeps her eyes shut for another minute or two, hoping, praying, but deep inside she knows that it is a pointless exercise. No matter how hard she wishes, no matter how tightly she shuts her eyes, sleep won’t be arriving again anytime soon.
Finally giving up, she rolls over in her surprisingly empty bed and opens her eyes. Unorganised thoughts collide against each other in her head, creating a mess that only serves to unsettle her more. She nearly jumps when she hears the crash from the kitchen.
“What are you doing?” Charlotte asks as she reaches the kitchen. “Are you okay?”
“I pulled the mug out and then it fell and I couldn’t –"
“It’s fine, Tyler.”
Jolted fully awake from the smashed mug, Charlotte runs a hand across her face as she side steps the broken glass and reaches for her own mug. She pours a generous amount of coffee in before making her way to the living room. Tyler joins her a moment later and they sit in the silence of the apartment.
Tyler moves the mug from his lips and speaks over the top of it, steam rising across his face like some sort of magic trick. “Char?”
“Mhmm?”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Char -”
“I said I’m fine. Just… a long day ahead.”
“First one with that new bodyguard?”
“Yeah. She hates me already, I can tell.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” he says, but it’s in such a way that Charlotte can tell his concentration is already elsewhere.
Charlotte decides not to reply and instead takes another sip of her coffee.
*****
“You don’t look much like a bodyguard. I thought you would be… bigger… rougher.”
“I find it’s better to blend in than to stand out in this job,” Becky answers.
When Becky and Finn had walked into Charlotte’s office that morning they had been greeted with both Charlotte and her father. Apparently it is Becky’s lucky day today.
“You don’t seem like someone who wastes a lot of time,” Ric says quietly as he sizes Becky up again. “So I’ll cut to the chase. Do you know what you’re signing up for?”
“Yeah.” Becky feels like adding ‘I’m not an idiot’ but she decides against it because Finn is here and the last thing she needs is him glaring at her while he talks with Charlotte and the man Becky now knows as Tyler who has decided to join them too. “With all due respect, I think the whole city knows why your daughter needs security.”
“I made a huge mistake.”
“You sure did,” Becky confirms with a sigh. “Screwing over the city’s best team and everyone associated with it is a pretty big mistake.”
“I’ve worked with Finn before and therefore I trust his judgment on you,” Ric states bluntly, clearly ignoring Becky’s barb. “You’re going to be the only person standing between my daughter and the outside world. Do you understand?”
Becky doesn’t know why, but she finds herself standing up a little straighter under Ric’s stare. “I get it.”
“And that doesn’t concern you?”
“Nah, it doesn’t. I’m the only person she will need, you can trust me on that.” Becky’s words hang heavily in the air between them and Ric blinks once and then twice before he backs off a little.
-
“You understanding all of this?” The words are out of Charlotte’s mouth before Becky has even caught up with her; effectively cutting off whatever it was that Becky was about to say in reply. “That’s all the office space we have on this floor.”
As Charlotte inches the next door inwards, she catches sight of her face in the brass of the Royals’ logo, reflecting back her expression. She looks tired, which she is. She also looks disquieted and anxious, because she is both of those too.
Once the door has followed its arc into the room, she can see the two sofas facing each other. The furniture is rustic but light, decorated liberally with bright cushions. There’s a coffee table in easy reach of both sofa’s and the walls are full of colorful prints. There are several beanbags stacked on the other side of the room that face the window too.
“This is where you can come on your breaks if you need away from things.”
“Are you always like this?” Becky asks.
“Like what?”
“Overbearing,” Becky says, eyes looking over Charlotte’s shoulder like she’s trying to create the illusion of eye contact without actually making any eye contact. “You were supposed to give me a sweep of the premises an’ you haven’t let me ask or answer a question.”
“I have a lot to do today, Becky.” And it’s true, she does. She has meetings all morning and afternoon, and that’s not even taking into account the phone calls and emails she will have to make and answer. “So excuse me if my hospitality skills aren’t up to your standard but I have other things that need my attention, okay?”
“Alright.” Becky accepts the answer with a nod before she glances around the room. It’s full of furniture and hues that she would never choose or even like, but whatever. “Is there anything else I need to know?”
“No.”
“Are you sure?” Becky presses. “Do I have everything I need to keep you safe?”
“Yes. You have my schedule, who I talk to regularly, where I will be and when. You have everything you asked for. I’m not an idiot.”
“Well, in this line of work I deal with idiots frequently, sometimes it’s like teaching a Labrador how to talk French.”
“Are you calling me an idiot?” Charlotte’s face creases in confusion at her own question and Becky’s answer takes a minute to arrive.
“Nah, I’m just saying I deal with them quite often in this job.”
A tight ribbon of pain snakes its way up through Charlotte’s ribs and into her jaw where her teeth are clenched tightly. Becky is going to be insufferable. She is one of those people who have an answer for everything, Charlotte can tell.
Silence falls over them again and Charlotte is slightly worried that it is going to swallow the both of them whole.
“How do you feel about workin' with me then?” Charlotte asks. “Because I have a video call that started five minutes ago and I can’t waste any more time here.”
“Finally somethin’ we can agree on.”
"You start full time on Monday."
"I know," Becky answers.
-
Later in the evening, Becky stands in the shower, eyes closed, letting the hot water run down her bare back. She stays like that until her skin burns and the steam is thick. Then she opens her eyes and takes a step out the shower stream.
She thinks about her job. She thinks about Charlotte. She thinks about Monday's schedule.
This whole thing is going to be a fucking nightmare.