Twenty-Four ◑ The Walk

“Cheers!” Shanry raised the pitcher of beer into the air, causing the foam to rise and slosh over the sides. “To us! To the ball! To Cade, who will pay for this if I break it!”

A rumble of laughter spread around their table, mingling with the live acoustic band playing in the corner. Since it was a Friday night, Lindi’s Irish Pub was filled to the brim with people, but none of them was as loud as Shanry after a couple of beers. The woman had been yelling nonsense cheers for the majority of the night, and the rest of the Paradigm team was too amused to stop her.

This time, though, with the pitcher balancing precariously in her unsteady hand, Cade reached across their table and guided her back down. “I’ll pay for the pitcher, alright, but if you break it on your head, that’ll be your problem.”

Lucille couldn’t help smiling. In fact, she’d been smiling so much tonight and last week that she was kind of convinced there was something wrong with her.

Or maybe not. A lot of things had happened since that day at the Arkham Manor. Her week back to work had passed by in a breeze filled with paperwork, meetings, and planning—all leading to good results.

The ball, which was set to happen next Friday, only needed a bit of tweaking now, a smudge of polishing. This was the main reason for their premature celebration in a pub tonight. Invitations had been sent and fawned over by the receivers. A huge social media campaign had been launched, going as far as topping trending charts and gracing headlines. The authors and their biggest, most influential fans had set the publicity through the roof.

And despite her weird behavior, Lucille had managed to strike a deal with Pam and snag the Manor all for Paradigm Publishing for the majority of the following week.

So yes, there was so many things to smile about.

Never mind that she’d had that experience with the mirror. Never mind that it had saved itself some space in her head. The important thing was, she was okay. She was happy.

“Penny for your thoughts,” Jamie suddenly said, bumping her glass against Lucille’s. “What are you smiling about, lady?”

“You guys,” she replied with a smirk. “A few pitchers of beer in, and you’re all tipsy.”

“One is drunk for sure,” Cade pointed out, gesturing at Shanry, who was now trying to make a toast with the nearby table. “Keep an eye on her.”

He reached out for the platter of chips, and as he did so, his eyes met Lucille’s. Instantly, his lips curved into the brightest, warmest smile. And for the nth time this week, her heart jumped and did cartwheels in her chest.

Lucille didn’t know what kept causing this: the fact that seeing him happy made her feel less guilty, or the fact that seeing him smile genuinely stirred up something in her. Either way, she couldn’t look away. Neither could he. Once again, she got the feeling that the moment was building up to something bigger, to something more. She could feel him hesitating, preparing to do or say something. And he was slowly opening his mouth as though to—

Clifford reached for the chips and blocked Cade’s face in the process. “Yo, guys, I really feel like the ball would be our biggest thing yet.”

“I really hope so.” Cade’s cheeks were visibly red under the yellow lights. He retracted his hand, looking away from Lucille. She was the only one who knew about William’s condition. “We just have to polish our programme and we’ll be all set.”

Rosie let out a squeal. “I’m so excited! I wonder what I’m going to wear.” Her expression went from stoked to thoughtful. “I hope my husband dresses appropriately this time.”

Lucille looked up from her glass. “We’re bringing people with us?”

“Yeah.” Jamie answered for Rosie, who was now trying to pull Shanry back towards their table. “We get dates. I mean, it makes sense since it’s a ball, right? We got extra tickets with the invitations we’ve sent out too.”

Lucille’s sleeping blood got flowing. “How come I never knew about that?” she tried to ask calmly, but her voice came out shrill and panicky. “Why did no one tell me?”

“Well, you were too busy saving our asses from those bitches in finance,” Shanry slurred, clinking her glass and lifting it to the air. “To Lucille!”

To Lucille’s horror and annoyance, everyone in their table followed Shanry’s cheer. “To Lucille!”

Oh, God. Dates? Really? What was this, a high school dance? Jamie’s reasoning made sense, but that didn’t stop Lucille from wanting to scream. But surely the ‘date’ didn’t have to be someone they’re romantically involved with. That would be too cheesy. Not to mention, kind of insensitive since not everyone had that sort of relationship. She could take Agnes and they’d have a real blast—

Wait a moment. Agnes was banned from Paradigm. What if someone recognized her and embarrassed her?

Okay, Lucille would never put Agnes in that kind of social situation. She’d rather go alone. . . .

“Um, Lucille?” Cade tapped her shoulder. There was a sheepish, hopeful look in his brown eyes. His voice was just as quiet and timid. Lucille’s spirits soared; she knew what this was about. “I was wondering if maybe we could—”

“Who are you taking, Cade?” Clifford suddenly asked, pouring himself more beer and flashing a subtle wink at Lucille. “I think you and—”

“Dude, I’m Cade’s date,” Jamie interjected and took the pitcher from Clifford. “Always has been. He’s bad at names, and he needs someone who actually does know the people around him.” She turned to Cade with a reminiscent smirk. “Remember last year? When you interchanged the names of the guys from New York Times and L.A. Times because they were both bald, then they snitched you to William and almost got you suspended? Man, you need me.”

Silence around the table. Clifford and Rosie’s looks of disappointment made it hard for Lucille to breathe. If this was how gutted they appeared, she dreaded to find out what kind of expression was on her face, because Jamie’s interruption had just sucked all the excitement out of her. It was so close. So damn close.

And now Lucille was wondering if Jamie secretly liked Cade, if this was her way of getting closer to him, if this was her setting her territory.

“You’re right,” Cade said at last. His face was all scrunched up bitterly, like he was mentally punching himself. “You’re absolutely right.”

“How about you, Lucille?” Jamie grabbed a handful of chips. “I bet you’re going to have a supermodel on speed-dial.”

Cade sat bolt upright. “A supermodel?”

“Maybe,” Lucille replied in a breezy, mysterious tone, but her insides were withering with embarrassment. “I guess you’ll just have to wait and see.”

◑≡◑≡◑≡◑

Lucille couldn’t wait to get home, and it wasn’t just because all the beer in her stomach was making her bloated, but because of the general disappointment in her chest that she still couldn’t fully understand.

The Paradigm Publishing team was in front of the pub, standing with the other customers, waiting for a cab. Rosie and Shanry had already gone. Jamie and Clifford were talking happily, while Lucille and Cade were keeping their eyes peeled for a ride. He wasn’t active about it, though. In fact, he was just standing at the side, flashing glances at her. She, on the other hand, was waving her arm in front of every car that passed by, not giving a damn on whether or not they’re actually cabs. Her face was still flaming, but it had nothing to do with the people giving her strange looks as she teetered on her high heels and stayed at the edge of the sidewalk.

God, she wanted to go home. She was desperate. She didn’t like the meek look on Cade’s face. If he approached her and apologized, she would just die—

“Hey, we’ll be heading this way,” Clifford announced. He and Jamie were already walking in the opposite direction. “Good night, you two. Have a great weekend.”

“Bye and have a great weekend too,” Lucille replied, but her voice sputtered into a whisper with the last few words as she saw Cade approaching her with his hands in his coat pockets.

Okay, act normal, Lucille told herself sternly, but her knees had already begun to shake even before he could reach her. By the time he was directly beside her, she wanted to transcend into a different place. She wondered vaguely if she could make a break for it or maybe zap him with magic, but too late. He was already very close by, facing her purposefully.

Lucille let out an uneasy little laugh. “Where are the damn cabs when you need one, right?”

“I know.” Cade shrugged. “Let’s walk?”

She nodded, but she inside she was saying no. Still, she trailed after him as he followed the path along the sidewalk. None of them spoke for a long while, both letting the roar of the cars and the distorted chatter of people fill up the empty gap. Surprisingly, it wasn’t awkward or uncomfortable. It was almost quite pleasant. The wind was cool but gentle, the lights bright but not harsh. The bustle of New York stretched around them from all directions, but it didn’t press on them like she expected it to.

In fact, as they tracked the criss-crossing streets towards East Side area, she felt her body expanding. Relaxing.

And apparently, she wasn’t alone in this, because Cade was beginning to smile. He didn’t look quite eager to give himself a beating now. He sidled close to her, occasionally glancing at her as they passed neon-lit shops and blinking streetlights.

“You know,” he said, slowing his pace, “I really did want to ask you.”

Lucille matched his pace and played dumb. “About what?”

Cade grinned. “Two things: I wanted to ask you to be my date to the ball, but since that didn’t quite go so well, now I want to ask you who you’re going with.”

“Ah.” Her stomach fluttered. She pulled her coat tighter around her like he was going to see that. “Since you missed your chance, you’re not getting anything from me.”

“Hey!” he protested, but his smile only got wider. He bumped his shoulder against hers, pulling his hands out of his coat pockets. “Seriously, though. Who is it?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Why do you want to know?”

“Nothing,” he replied after a pause.

Was he jealous? Lucille wondered. A bubble of joy was inflating inside her. Perhaps he was. And perhaps she liked it.

God, what was wrong with her?

“I messed up, didn’t I?” Cade muttered, almost to himself. The yellow lights glaring overhead casted a shadow over his deep-set eyes, making them darker. “I’m being pushy too. And I’m talking too much. I’m talking too much, right? If you say yes, I’m going to blame it on the beer. If you say no, I’m going to keep talking until you tell me.”

A genuine giggle—yes, a giggle—escaped her lips. She clamped a hand over them to stifle the sound, but it was too late for that.

“I’ll tell Jamie,” he declared.

“What, and you’ll switch up the bald journalists again?” she retorted. When he let out a frustrated groan, she briefly rested her head against his shoulder. “Look, it’s alright. It’s not like we’re going to be in separate rooms or be with our dates for the rest of the night.”

Those words put an extra bounce in Cade's step now, which he’d managed to maintain until they reached the landscape in front of Chateau Hotel. Lucille, however, was beginning to feel more and more nervous about who her date would be. By the time he said his farewell and left her alone in the lobby, she was numb with panic. No matter how good she’s bluffed at Cade, it wouldn’t erase the fact that she’d probably still show up alone.

And she didn’t want that. She’d look like a liar. A pathetic one at that.

As soon as the elevator doors opened to the penthouse, Lucille marched in, pulled Agnes right off the couch, and switched off the television.

Agnes was baffled. “Hey, I was watching that—”

“Help me.” Lucille grabbed her shoulders. “I need someone who looks like a supermodel.”

“Um, I think I need some context before I. . . .” Agnes trailed off, her lips slowly stretching into a grin. “I think I got the perfect one for you.”