“Oh,” he said, getting up and jostling his drink in the process. He set down a few books he’d been holding, adjusting the crooked lid back on his cup. “No, no, take it. I was about to head home.”
Lauren smiled, trying to make a conscious effort to be friendly. She and Marcus had technically worked together for a year, although their jobs had no overlap. But the last week especially had made Lauren reflect on how isolated she was at work—she’d been avoiding Kiki since the incident in Asa’s room, and she couldn’t tell if she’d been avoiding Asa, too, or if that was coming from him. Either way, she’d barely seen him around Cold World since it had happened.
“I didn’t know you read romance,” she said, pointing at the books. The top one was called Big Duke Energy and had an illustration of a muscular man tossing his head back as if in the throes of passion, his long hair streaming behind him.
Immediately, Lauren could tell it had been the wrong thing to say. Marcus looked beyond mortified, his face turning a shade of red that rivaled the poinsettias lined up in the lobby.
“These aren’t mine,” he said. “I mean, they’re a gift. For Sonia. For Secret Santa.”
“She’ll love them,” Lauren said. She didn’t know Sonia that well, either—god, she was sensing a really depressing pattern here—but she knew that the woman almost always had a book with a similarly salacious cover whenever she was on her lunch break. “That’s really thoughtful.”
“I can’t do it,” Marcus said. “I mean, she’s old enough to be my mom.”
If she’d been a mother in middle school, but Lauren didn’t bother pointing that out. She wondered why Marcus would’ve gone to the trouble to choose the books, buy them, and carry them around Cold World, only to get cold feet about actually giving them as a present. But she supposed it wasn’t her problem.
An assessing look came over Marcus’ face, and suddenly Lauren knew he was about to make it her problem. “We could trade,” he said. “You give Sonia the books—look, they’re already picked out. Who do you have?”
Lauren paused. “Asa Williamson. But I—”
“That’s ironic.” Marcus gave a little snort-laugh. “But he’s easy to buy for. Come on, trade with me.”
Lauren’s first thought was how disappointed Asa would be if he knew she was even considering it. Not because she fooled herself to think he’d care that much about whether she got him a present, but because “no trading” was pretty much the second rule of Secret Santa, after “don’t tell the person you got them.”
There was that. It wasn’t like Asa would know that she had traded, since he didn’t know she’d had him in the first place. And despite what Marcus was saying, Lauren found Asa incredibly difficult to buy for. She’d already considered and discounted flavored coffee （since he made it for free at work）， art supplies （he probably had everything he needed, and had specific preferences as to what he used）， and color-saving shampoo （weirdly intimate . . . and if she was completely honest, she didn’t want to risk messing with whatever alchemy made up that distinctive smell that drove her crazy）。
She couldn’t think of anything to buy for Asa that didn’t feel either way too impersonal or way too vulnerable, especially after everything that had happened between them.
Over Marcus’ shoulder, she saw Eddie come through the front door with Jolene, and she gathered up the books on the table. “Okay,” she said, sliding them into her tote bag. “Fine. You take Asa, and I’ll take Sonia.”
“Sweet,” Marcus said. “Thanks. See you at the party.”
As soon as the swap was done, Lauren wanted to call it back, to change her mind. But he was already walking away, and Eddie had spotted Lauren and pointed her out to Jolene. Lauren plopped down in the chair at the table, not wanting to risk losing it.
“Sorry we’re late,” Jolene said. Eddie lingered behind her, the surly expression on his face barely changing when Lauren tried to smile at him. “We had a little incident with the PlayStation, didn’t we, Eddie? Tell Miss Lauren about how you were a bad boy today.”
Jolene hadn’t said the words with any particular malice, but they were like nails on a chalkboard to Lauren. She had a feeling Eddie had already internalized what a bad boy he supposedly was, and regardless, her role in his life wasn’t as another enforcer.
“I almost texted to say we wouldn’t come,” Jolene said, “since it seems wrong to reward behavior like that. But I actually really need to get my hair done . . . You said he’d be here until seven?”