Page 16 of Making It Burn
I glanced at my watch.“By six minutes.”
“Still late.”He made a note on the page, his handwriting precise and angular.“I said eight o’clock.”
“Good morning to you too, sunshine.”
That got his attention.His eyes snapped up, and for a second I saw it again—that flash of something underneath the ice.Annoyance, probably.
“This is a professional environment, Thatcher.If I say eight, I mean eight.”
“Noted.”I dropped into the chair across from his desk, deliberately casual.“Traffic was a nightmare.You know how Franklin Street gets.”
“I’ve lived in Richmond my entire life.I’m familiar with the traffic patterns.”
“Then you understand why I’m late.”
“I understand that you don’t respect other people’s time.”
I opened my mouth to fire back—something about him having a stick up his ass—but before I could, the door opened behind me.
“Good morning, boys.”
We both straightened immediately, like students caught passing notes in class.
Patsy Hollingsworth swept into the office, carrying a leather folio and radiating that particular brand of Southern grace that could make you feel both welcomed and gently scolded at the same time.
“Mrs.Hollingsworth,” Mason stood, like the ass-kisser he was.“Good morning.”
“Patsy,” she corrected gently.“How many times do I have to tell you, Mason?We’re colleagues.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
She turned to me, and I stood too, suddenly aware that I was wearing yesterday’s tie because I’d been too distracted this morning to pick out a new one.“Beau, sweetheart.How was your first day?”
“Great.Really great.The team’s been very welcoming.”
“Good.”Her eyes flicked between Mason and me.“I hope you two are settling into working together?”
“Absolutely,” Mason said.
“No problems at all,” I added.
“Mason, I need you to cover a hearing for me this afternoon.The Riverside Medical malpractice case—Dr.Hartley and the botched knee surgery.I was supposed to argue the preliminary motion to dismiss, but I have an emergency meeting with the Dominion Arts Center board of directors that I can’t reschedule.”
Mason’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly.“Of course.What time?”
“One o’clock.Judge Morrison’s courtroom.I’ve already had Lisa pull the file—it should be on your desk within the hour.The motion is solid, but Morrison can be unpredictable, so be prepared for curveballs.”
“Understood.”
“Thank you, darling.”She squeezed his shoulder, then looked at both of us again.“You two keep working on the PharmaTech strategy.Carter wants an update by the end of the week, so don’t dawdle.”
“Yes, ma’am,” we said in unison.
She gave us one last smile and left, closing the door behind her.
The second she was gone, the temperature in the room dropped about ten degrees.
Mason sat back down and picked up his pen.“As I was saying, being on time is a basic professional courtesy.”
