Page 8 of Invisible Scars
“Jonah,” she greets me, her eyes narrowing as I keep an easy stride toward Effie’s office.
“Diva.”
“Effie’s waiting for the Tanner specs.” Diva glares at the documents in my right hand, then at the small box in my left. “Those better be them, andthat—” she points at the parcel “—better not be something that’ll get on Effie’s nerves.”
“It’s a fifty-fifty bet.”
Diva stands and places her free hand on her hip. “She has a crazy week, Jonah. She’s got enough stress without your bullshit.” Then she pins me down with a hard gaze. “If she starts yelling, I’m kicking you out.”
I cross my arms and study the petite, pink-haired executive assistant that somehow manages to keep both my older brothersandEffie in line and happy and decide against pissing her off. “Understood.”
“Super.” She resumes her seat. “Have a good one, Joe.”
I glance at my watch. It’s ten, which means Effie just finished her granola bar breakfast.That plays in my favor.
I knock on Effie’s open door and wait for her to look up. Her gaze lingers on me for a second longer than necessary before she motions me to come in.
“I’ve got the Tanner specs ready.” I hold the file up for her to see.
“Thank you,” she says and taps a pile of documents without looking away from her computer. “Put them here, please.”
“Sure thing, Boss.” I don’t miss the eye roll, but other than that, no reaction.
Once I place the specs in their designated pile, I wait, watching Effie’s manicured fingers click on the keyboard at a rapid pace. Her full lips are pursing tighter by the second, ample breasts rising and falling in a quickening pace under her tight blue button-down —look away, Lieutenant!—until, finally, she looks up at me with an irritable huff.
“Anything else, Jonah?”
“I heard you’re stressed out over work.”
“I’m swamped, not stressed.” Effie raises an eyebrow as if to saycatch a hint.
I sit on the edge of her desk. “Well, I figured if your office were less uptight, maybe you’d feel less…swamped.”
“I like to keep my office professional.” Effie eyes the box in my hand, then stretches out her hand with a sigh. “Just get it over with.”
I hand her the box, giddiness creeping into the usual solemness of my day-to-day life.
Effie pulls the satin string, undoing the knot tying the box shut, and lifts the lid. Her eyes grow wide when she looks inside, and she releases a snort before hurrying to cover her mouth.
“No. Nope.” I pluck the box from her hand with a triumphant grin, taking out the Jar Jar Binks bobblehead and placing it on her desk. “You can’t pretend you don’t love it now.”
“Jonah, no!” Effie snatches the figurine off the desk and holds it tightly to her chest with both hands, unsuccessfully trying to hold back her laughter. “I can’t leave this…thingon my desk. I’m a VP.”
“You’re right.” I nod, absentmindedly wrapping the undone satin bow around my finger. “Jar Jar would probably serve his purpose better on your nightstand.”
“Jonah,” she warns through bouts of laughter.
“You’ll want to stick him in a drawer when you have guys over, though,” I continue, keeping the nonchalant tone, knowing it’s getting under her skin. “A Jar Jar Binks fetish is a hard sell, after all.”
“Please stop.” Effie’s glasses are up on her head while she wipes the corner of her eyes.
“But I have to admit that, after sleeping on it for a weekend, I’m curious.”
Effie throws the small box at me and shakes her head.
“You’re impossible, Jonah Peak,” she says with an exasperated sigh, looking down at the bobblehead, poking it with a fond smile. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” I toss the box into the bin and stand. “I’ll see you for training later today.”
