Nine ◑ The Aftermath

No one—NO ONE—could reject Lucille Saint-Claire and get away with it unscathed. This would be the hill she would die on. This would be the slogan on her tombstone if she ever died.

Still, no one could erase the fact that she'd been rejected last night by a nobody.

That had to be the single, most embarrassing thing she'd experienced. Ever. She thought that her fascination with the 2000s 'concealer lip' would be it, but no. Cade's downright shut-down to her advances had taken the cake easily.

But that's not where it ended.

This morning, in the hopes of redeeming herself, she'd contacted Cade via email, asking if he's available for a coffee over the weekends. She'd made it sound casual, like she'd only offered as a thank you, but he'd refused curtly, saying that he'd be swamped with work.

Two rejections in a row. So yeah, that didn't make things any better.

God, Lucille could still feel the ripples of shame settling in her stomach. In a flash of extreme annoyance, she grabbed random dressed off a rack and dumped them all in her cart.

There. Now she felt two percent better.

She was at Brookfield Place, shopping for more clothes with Agnes. They usually didn't make Saturday trips here, but Lucille had been so down that she needed to be surrounded by garments. Or else she'd scream and hunt down Cade Linden with a shotgun.

Agnes glanced back at the sound of hangers hitting the surface of the cart. Her eyes widened. "Um, Miss Lucille? Are you alright?"

"Yeah," Lucille answered. "Why do you ask?"

"This." Cautiously, Agnes raised the dresses to her eye level. "They're all the same. Just in different sizes."

Lucille stopped rolling the cart and stared at her haul. Sure enough, all the dresses she'd just gotten were copies of the same off-the-shoulder scarlet design. Heat crept up her face, but she would be damned if she admitted she was being stupid.

"Oh, yes." She trued to keep her tone neutral. "It's for backup. Who knows, I might gain a bit of weight and go up a few dress sizes."

Agnes stared at her. She stared back. For a while, none of them spoke. Lucille thought Agnes would eventually look away, but she didn't. In fact, she kept at it until Lucille's eyes stung and watered, making her blink.

"I knew it," Agnes said, but there was no gloating in her voice. She took the handle of the cart and rolled it back to the rack where Lucille had taken the dresses. "You've been out of it since you got back from that dinner last night. Now stop deflecting and tell me what happened."

Lucille groaned. "I don't want to talk about it."

"But you will," Agnes said sternly, pulling the extra dresses back where they'd come from. "Come on. We're not leaving until you tell me."

"Agnes," Lucille pleaded.

She was unshakable. "Lucille."

It was rare to hear her use the name without 'Miss', and that's how you'd know she meant business.

Lucille had no clue about Agnes's history, but she could say for sure that Agnes was younger than her by at least three years. And even though her youth sometimes reflected too much at how innocently she viewed the world, Agnes was mostly the mature one in their friendship. On top of being the kind, gentle counterpart to Lucille's unpredictability and hot-headedness, she was also the voice of reason.

Agnes showed that now, as Lucille began to recount the entire story to her. Not once did she laugh or interrupt. She just listened. Only when Lucille was done did she say, "You should've told me sooner."

"Why?" Lucille said sulkily, examining a blue dress that she was sure she would never wear. "So I can refresh the shame over and over?"

"No," Agnes replied. When Lucille didn't look convinced, she patted her on the shoulder. "You should've told me sooner so I could tell you that you're feeling bad over nothing. Cade only bailed on you because things were going too fast, too soon. You're a stranger to him. He probably didn't want to make it seem like he was taking advantage of the fact that you were emotionally unstable and intoxicated."

"But I was only pretending to be!" Lucille reasoned. "And I only had, like, half a glass of wine. That doesn't count."

"To him, it probably does," Agnes pointed out. "Besides, I don't think seduction is the best way to go about this plan. From what you told me so far, he doesn't seem like the type to fall for such an obvious trap. You can ruin his life without giving him . . . you know. A piece of yourself."

Lucille stopped to consider that. Agnes was probably right. That had been a stupid plan. Or maybe. . . .

"Maybe he's not attracted to me." She perked up with the idea. "Maybe he's into younger ones. Case in point: Mia Beckett."

"Maybe or maybe not, but then point here is, his attraction is out of your control." Agnes looped her arm around Lucille's, and together they pushed the cart forward. "Let's focus on the things you can control, okay?"

"Okay." Lucille nodded, then frowned. "Wait, how are you so good at assessing things more accurately than I am? I'm the one who should know this more, yet I'm being stupid."

Agnes laughed. "This is why you need me. This is why we're together in this."

◑≡◑≡◑≡◑

Since Lucille was feeling a lot better after her talk with Agnes, they ended up going crazy in the Brookfield Place. A bajillion clothes and handbags later, they were out into the streets of New York, walking past restaurants and debating which one to eat lunch in.

In the end, they decided to go to Akira, a small Japanese bistro in the corner of Upper West Side.

It was fairly small in comparison to the other restaurants in the area, but it caught Lucille's eye because of the cherry blossom paper lanterns that hung from the ceiling, casting a pinkish glow on the pale wooden furniture. Also, it had been a long time since she had Japanese food. It was about time she refreshed the memory.

Agnes looked quite giddy as well, especially when she found out that they served mochi. She basically dragged Lucille inside, and immediately they found a nice spot close to the counter, right beside the tall windows. A young girl gave them a menu and they excitedly go through it, but before Lucille could decide on anything, her eyes found a familiar face among the other customers.

It was Cade.

He was sitting two tables away from them, and he wasn't alone. In front of him was a red-haired woman wearing a tube top under a sheer blouse. She had her back turned so her face wasn't visible, but it seemed that she was upset, because Cade was gesturing her to calm down.

Wow. So he refused her invitation because he was out with someone? Why didn't he just say so? Why did he have to use work as a reason?

Damn, the man was just as scummy as Lucille had thought.

Noticing the sudden drop of energy, Agnes raised an eyebrow at Lucille. "Hey, what's wrong?"

"It's him." Lucille angled herself in her seat so that she wouldn't immediately be visible if Cade ever lifted his gaze off the red-haired woman. "Cade Linden."

"No way," Agnes breathed incredulously, but she turned around nonetheless, following Lucille's line of sight. At first she couldn't fine exactly what Lucille was looking at, but then she saw the brown-haired guy with the button-down. "Oh, shit."

Oh, shit indeed. Out of all the restaurants in this city, and they met here. The universe was trying to tell Lucille something. At this point, she'd forgotten all about her initial feelings of being insulted; she just wanted to find out why Cade was here, and why he and his friend were gesticulating so animatedly.

Were they having a really good cheery talk? Lucille thought not. These two were surely having a spat.

Agnes squinted. "Not gonna lie, he's kind of cute." When Lucille shot her a pointed look, she cleared her throat. "Er, look, they're fighting. Look at his face. He knows he's one sentence away from causing a disaster."

Lucille smirked. "Why don't we find out?"

Agnes's responding smile was nothing but encouraging, and so Lucille concentrated and extended her magic towards Cade's table. She willed the sounds to be amplified, but only to her and Agnes's ears. It took quite a while for her fine-tune it, but in no time, they were already being treated with a reality TV-worthy conversation.

". . . I told you, I can't do that anymore," the woman was saying, her voice rising in agitation. "It's against my conscience. I'm just . . . I just want this to be over. I want to start again. Cade, I just can't."

"But it's working so well between us," Cade insisted. "Why are you backing out now? Is it because of him? I'll talk to him."

"Are you crazy?" she hissed. "Don't you remember what he did to you last time?"

"I don't care." He sounded unshakable. "It's been three years. You can't just put that behind us."

Lucille exchanged dubious, wide-eyed glances with Agnes. Good thing she did this magic eavesdropping thing because goddamn.

Three years. Mia had met him a year ago. Was this redhead married? Was she having an affair with Cade? Were they both sinning just to keep their relationship intact? If so, then Cade had really been juggling multiple women.

Gotta admire the dedication, the perseverance, and the talent of these two dunderheads. Unfortunately, that didn't make them less gross in Lucille's eyes.

"I don't care what you need!" the woman spat out, abruptly standing up. "Goodbye."

With that, she exited the restaurant, leaving Cade looking all angry and bothered. He ran his hands through his hair, exhaling sharply with his jaw taut. For a second he seemed to consider smashing the cup in front of him. . . .

Until his eyes roamed around and met Lucille's.

Her heart jumped in panic. She scooched over to hide her face, but it was too late. He'd already stood up and was now heading towards her. Agnes saw this, and made a move to bolt, but Lucille held her fast as he arrived in front of their table.

"Lucille," Cade said a little disbelieving. "I didn't see you there earlier."

She plastered a rictus smile on her face. "Oh, well." Fuck. She had nothing to say. "Um, this is my cousin Agnes, by the way. Agnes, this is my boss, Cade Linden."

"Nice to meet you." He extended a hand towards Agnes. "Wait, are you the one who applied as an editor at Paradigm?"

"That's me," Agnes said shrilly, shaking his hand briefly. "Nice to meet you too."

Cade smiled, but he still gave off an uncomfortable air. He turned to Lucille. "Um, I need to talk to you." He glanced at Agnes again. "Would you mind if I borrow her for a bit?"

"Not at all!" Agnes trilled. "You guys go along."

"Thank you."

Lucille rose to her feet, and Cade led him to the space outside the restaurant. Once there, she remembered that she should act more like the fragile girl he'd encountered at the dinner party. She began to readjust herself, but before she could solidify her change, he was already talking.

"Are the curated lists ready?" he asked.

The question was so unexpected that she needed two seconds to answer. "Not yet. Why?"

"We need it by Monday." He grimaced apologetically. "I'm sorry if the deadline got moved. William have been bugging me."

"No problem." Lucille tried her best not to scream. "I will send it to you by tonight, so you'll have all Sunday to review it."

"Perfect," he said in relief. "Both of us will present it to William and the others on Monday via Zoom. Would that be okay with you?"

Of course it wouldn't be okay. Not only was he being rude by excluding Agnes for such a nonsense reason, but he was really maximizing his level of asshole-ry by making Lucille rush this stupid assignment. She'd have to stay up all night to deliver that shit. And now he's asking her to present it with him, to people who only hired her because of a spell.

Oh, Cade would be sorry he'd done all this. Lucille would make sure of that.

"It won't take long," Cade promised. "Monday morning, in my office at ten o'clock. It's just you, me, Clifford, my assistant Jamie, and the people in Seattle. Are you game?"

"Of course, Cade," Lucille said, with an idea popping in her mind. "I will be there with you."