I take his hand because I don’t want to be rude, even though he’s slowing down my exit. “Nice to meet you too.”
Thibault looks over my shoulder at my sister. “She’s angry, huh?”
“Yes, just a little. I was trying to explain to her that it’s really no big deal, and that she can still do the work for us and then go home to enjoy her weekend, but she doesn’t want to listen.”
Thibault’s smile fades and his expression turns serious. “I’m not so sure that’s such a good idea.”
I look over my shoulder at my sister. “See? I told you. I’m going home.” I move to go around Thibault, but he sidesteps to block my progress.
His smile is apologetic now. “If you could just hold off on leaving for a minute, I think Ozzie would like to talk to you.” He nods at something behind me.
“Well, if Ozzie wants to talk to me, he can call me on my cell. I have somewhere I need to be.”
As I take another step forward, Thibault holds out an arm. I stop in my tracks and look down at the offending limb. What in the heck does he think he’s doing?
“Hey, Ozzie! You want to come over here and discuss the situation with May’s sister?”
I turn around, and the sight of Ozzie and Dev striding through the darker cubicle area toward us has me hesitating. They look like storm troopers or something, the way they walk in tandem with their shoulders swaying forward and back, forward and back.
Be still, my heart. I know these guys are crazy, but I can kind of see in this moment why my sister is so gaga over them. They make stupid shit like being locked in a panic room seem not nearly as awful as it is.
I want to slap myself when I realize I’ve been distracted by my own hormones. Illusions. Hotel California alert! It’s all just illusions, Jenny! Get your head together!
“Let’s take this upstairs,” Ozzie says.
“Good idea,” my sister agrees.
“No! Bad idea! I’m not going upstairs or anywhere else with you people. I’m going outside to my car, and I’m going home.”
I turn around in a rush and shove Thibault’s arm out of my way, spinning him sideways. I refuse to listen to whatever nonsense they’re going to say to me, and I am done with this failed big-sister rescue. May will get an earful from me later.
The squeaking of my sneakers echoes around the warehouse as I make my way across the large open space, to the keypad that will open the main door. Freedom. I’m almost there.
Behind me comes the sound of someone else’s footsteps, but I don’t turn around to see who they belong to. I know it’s not my sister, because the footfall sounds heavy.
I am done playing around. I’m done pretending to be someone I’m not. I’m a mom and an employee of a second-rate software development firm, and I just need to keep my head down and my nose clean for the next forty years until I can retire and travel. I’ll wait until then to have a fun life. A freelancer . . . ha! What in the hell was I thinking?
“Hey,” says a voice from behind me.
I say nothing. I’m almost to the keypad.
“Where are you going in such a hurry?”
I abandon my escape temporarily and spin around.
Dev stops short just behind me, his arms still in jogging position. He smiles innocently at me, making me want to scream.
“Where am I going? I’ll tell you where I’m going—I’m getting the hell away from you people. Someone just tried to break in here in the middle of the afternoon and you’re all acting like it’s no big deal.”
“It’s evening, actually.”
“Whatever!” I feel like tearing my hair out. Is he crazy? Is that what his Kryptonite is? Lunacy might explain his lack of a wife, despite how good-looking he is.
He presses his palms together in front of his waist. “We deal with random criminal activity all the time. It’s really no big deal.”
“Dude . . . I don’t know what you all have been smoking in here, but I’m not interested in those kinds of hallucinations. I live in the real world.”
Dev reaches up with one hand and rubs at his bare scalp. Then he pulls it away, looks at his palm, and frowns. Rubbing his hand on the front of his shirt, he gives me an awkward grin. “I hate to tell you this, but you actually can’t leave right now.”
I stare him down, silently daring him to say that again.
He doesn’t even blink.
“Oh. So we’re playing this game again?” I won’t lose a stare-down contest a second time.
He shakes his head, looking almost sad. “It’s not a game, I promise. We’ve got a call in to the police, and we’re waiting for one of their officers to stop by and have a little conversation with us about what happened, and we’d really like for you to wait until we finish that before you go.”