I stand up straighter. “Oh yeah?”
“I found two vacant commercial buildings in Buckeye-Shaker that are currently for sale and listed at below market value—just what you’re looking for.”
“That sounds perfect. What’s their condition?”
“A little run-down, but salvageable. One housed medical offices and the other used to be leased by a church. I swung by earlier today to see them in person and the bones are good. Most of the work needed is surface-level only. The owner is retiring and wants to unload them as soon as possible, so I’m pretty sure he’d accept an offer below listing. Want to tell me again what this is all about? Are you planning on secretly switching careers and becoming a real estate investor? You know what, don’t tell me. I’m incapable of keeping secrets from your mother. She knows all my tells.”
I chuckle. “No. Just trying to give the Cleveland City Council new ideas for possible community college locations so they don’t make a huge mistake.”
“How very mysterious. I can’t wait to hear all about it.”
A toilet flushes and my heart hammers against my ribs. Oh my God. I’m not alone. “Thanks again, Rob. I’ll call you later.”
“Okay, b—”
I end the call at the same time one of the stall doors swings open to reveal Mercedes. My calves tighten. I hadn’t noticed that the farthest stall was occupied, damn it. Her smile is way too wide as she strolls to the sink next to me and begins washing her hands. “Hey,” she says.
“Hey,” I reply. My shoulders tense but I force them to relax as I readjust the bobby pin holding back Rogue Curl. Maybe she didn’t hear anything…
Shaking the water droplets off her hands, she yanks a paper towel from the wall dispenser between us. “So, what’s all this about you finding properties for the city of Cleveland? What in the world does Andréa have you working on? Sorry, I couldn’t help but overhear.” She titters.
Overhear? More like eavesdrop. “Nothing. Just a little side project. It’s personal.”
“Oh, because for a second there I thought it had something to do with Szymanski Enterprises and their proposal to the city council for a new community college at West Twenty-Eighth and Providence.”
All the color drains from my face. Did Roger ask Frank to do additional work on that? He must have, and Frank must have assigned it to Mercedes. Shit. I force my eyes to widen in what I hope passes for innocence. “Nope. Totally unrelated.”
“Oh. Okay.” Studying her reflection in the mirror, she finger-combs her hair, fluffing it at the roots. “Good luck with your… what was it? ‘Flower Festival’？ I’m surprised you have time to volunteer for a planning committee with your workload. Andréa must be impressed.”
“What I do in my personal time is my business, Mercedes.”
“You’re not on personal time right now, are you? But here you are… making personal calls.” Her eyes glint with something that looks suspiciously like victory.
Something inside me snaps, and all the frustration and anger she’s elicited this entire summer boils to the surface. I can’t believe I ever thought extending an olive branch to Mercedes was a good idea. Narrowing my eyes, I square up to face her. “What is your problem? You’ve been horrible to me since the first day we started here. What did I ever do to you?”
Her lips part and for a moment she actually looks startled. She closes her mouth, her usual frosty expression sliding back into place. “Don’t be so dramatic. I just don’t want to be besties with the competition. I can’t afford to sit around and braid your hair or whatever and lose sight of why we’re both here: to land a permanent job. The likelihood that both of us will be chosen to stay on as first-year associates is slim. I need it to be me. I don’t even think you want it that badly anymore.”
Her words hit me like a slap and I stumble back a step.
Do I still want to work for Smith & Boone? Of course I do.
Sure, I’ve found myself thinking more and more about Perry’s festival—jotting down ideas and reminders when I should be researching case law, sketching sign designs in the margins of my notepads, daydreaming during meetings about the impact the festival is poised to have. But securing a job at a top law firm is what I’ve worked for my whole life. The past three weeks have only been a blip—a summer project before the real career grind begins in the fall.
But if my actions at work have made Mercedes think I don’t want a permanent offer anymore, what does Andréa think? Or Glenn Boone? Am I blowing my chance for a successful career right when it matters most?