Page 39 of The Orc of Wall Street

Lewis nods at me as he quietly drifts from the break room toward his desk, stirring something wonderfully fragrant in a mug with his finger that is definitely not coffee.

“Morning,” he says, his voice faint as he lifts his mug to me. "Had a late night and needed a little pick-me-up." He puts his finger in his mouth, leaving a hint of red where his lips close over the pale skin.

"Late? You look like death warmed over this morning," Gage says and then laughs uproariously at his own joke.

"Very funny." Lewis rolls his eyes and slides into his cubicle.

Mornings aren't great for most folks around here, but for a vampire like Lewis, anything other than the dead of night is ridiculous. Gage, however, is a big early bird.

I anticipate his enormous Yeti hand as it juts out for me to high-five on my way to the break room.

"Morning, sunshine," he says.

I swat his palm as I pass. "Yep, you too, Gage."

The fact that I know when Gage will force a high five, or that Lewis sprinkles cinnamon on his blood in the morning because he thinks it will be less gross to the rest of us makes me realize something.

I am stupidly into Tarek and am enjoying it, but for the first time in as long as I can remember, I have people in my orbit who I genuinely like and care about.

Yes, one of them is probably a spy, I rationalize as I wander into the break room and put a coffee pod into the machine. But before this, I wouldn't give a shit. I'd do my job, turn them over to the proper people, and get on with my life.

Now I might regret having to take one of them out.

As the fragrance of the coffee fills the air and I stare down at the red-stained plastic storage container in the trash, I think it's become more difficult with so many Jarn employees in Craig's contacts list. It could be anyone sitting around me, even those I really like.

I also wonder if Lewis should be recycling those containers or if there's some hygiene issue with reusing them for blood storage.

My coffee finishes and I sip the hot liquid, rationalizing that this is why one doesn't get close to people. You may have to send one to jail or have an awkward discussion about recycling.

And yet I find myself wondering about the tradeoff for the first time in my life. Maybe it's worth it, this feeling of being with others.

As I walk out of the break room and pass Gage and Lewis again, I have my second revelation of the morning and it's not even nine o'clock. What if I stay on after the spy is caught?

The idea is so foreign and so tempting that I don't notice Angel approaching me until it's too late to hide. Her bright, shimmering hair is intense for the morning, but I squint a little and smile as best I can.

At least her wings aren't extended so that's a good sign. Relaxed wings equals a more relaxed Angel. Notice I said more relaxed since I don't think the pixie is ever actually fully relaxed.

"Hey, Angel," I say as she stops in front of me, with her brows furrowed in the confrontational frown that is her resting Angel face.

"Good morning," she says, her voice clipped and no-nonsense. She takes a breath to speak and then pauses, as if what she's going to say is unpleasant.

I feel my stomach drop. I can't imagine what horrors would be unpleasant for a pixie like Angel who finds joy in dropping verbal bombs.

"I just want to say..." She coughs slightly and looks around. No one is watching us.

"I just want to say that you've been making some good noticeable progress."

She glares fiercely into my eyes as if daring me to contradict her.

It takes my brain a moment to realize she isn't saying something negative. In fact, it may be something totally unique – a compliment.

"Thank you? I'm glad? I mean, I've been trying hard so I'm happy you've noticed."

Angel nods her head and begins to turn away.

"Hold on," I say. "Just to be clear. You're telling me I'm doing a good job?"

Angel scowls and turns back. "Is something the matter with your hearing?"

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