Page 120 of Rags's Awakening
“Is he being decent?” Clara asked.
“He’s good,” Casey replied.
“If he acts up, let me know.” Clara feigned a stern look.
Casey laughed.
“Is there a party going on in here?’ Jacob asked from the doorway.
“Just girl talk,” Casey said, picking up the folder Clara had brought in.
“Anyone interested in grabbing lunch in a few?” he asked, his gaze lingering on Casey.
“I’m meeting Zoe,” she said, cringing at the white lie.
Clara cleared her throat. “I better get back to my desk,” she said, walking toward the doorway.
“Thanks for bringing me the work,” Casey said, a smile in her voice.
“How’ve you been?” Jacob asked, pulling Casey’s attention back to him.
“Busy. You?”
“There’s always another production to prepare for,” he said. “I’m not complaining. I just wouldn’t mind a break.”
Casey nodded. An awkward silence settled over the office. Their friendship had shifted during the last play, and it saddened her. She didn’t know how to fix it.
“You still seeing that biker?”
Jacob’s voice startled her.
“Yes.”
“I still can’t believe it. Why would you jump right back into the frying pan after JT?” He scrubbed a hand through his hair.
“Rags isn’t JT.”
His jaw tightened. “That’s not the point. He’s an outlaw biker—just like the jerk you hooked up with.”
“Jacob, we’ve been friends a long time. I miss the way our friendship was easy. What are you really angry about?”
“That you’re wrecking your life again, and I’ll be stuck helping you pick up the pieces,” he said, his voice hard.
Anger prickled across her skin, like goosebumps in cold air. “Don’t worry. I won’t bother you with my problems anymore. I guess I misunderstood what friendship means. I won’t remind you how many times I was there for you when you messed up.”
He exhaled slowly. “I’m sorry. I’m not myself today. I didn’t sleep well.”
Casey slipped into her chair and drew the folder closer. “It’s okay. We’re all a little off. After a show closes, there’s always that letdown—it takes time to find the rhythm again.”
“You’re right.” Jacob turned at the door. “Let’s grab an early dinner one night.”
“For sure. Next week?”
“Yeah. Sure.” He stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him.
Casey opened the folder, turned on her monitor, and pulled up one of the grants she’d worked on the week before. She secured her hair with a tie, then dove into her work.
A few hours later, she leaned back in her chair and massaged the back of her neck. A thread of satisfaction wove through her at the productive morning: two grants completed and sent off, half of the fiscal budget already done. She stood, lifted her arms over her head, and stretched, easing the tightness in her back. A gentle gnawing in her belly reminded her of the breakfast she’d skipped. Grabbing her coat, she shrugged it on and stepped into the hallway.
