Strike Me Down - Mindy Mejia Page 0,38
to the side of the room as possible, half hiding behind a body bag while she searched the crowd for Logan. It didn’t take long to locate her. Surrounded by a group of people at the base of the ring, Logan’s husky laugh cut through the music and seemed to vibrate in the back of Nora’s own throat.
Nora stalled for a moment, and she told herself it wasn’t because she was nervous. She tried to forget about the ridiculous dress and the bouquet of fragrances wafting from her own hair, focusing instead on the legend in front of her. Logan Russo matched neither the finance manager’s nor her husband’s fraud profile. As the face of the company, she received a thousand times more scrutiny than anyone else. Every eye in the room followed her, tracking her movements and facial expressions, and each Strike success or failure became a public assessment of Logan Russo. The pressure, to someone like Nora, was unimaginable.
Her phone buzzed, interrupting her fixation. Nora looked down to see a new text from the analyst who’d helped interview Darryl Nolan and had kindly—at Nora’s direction—offered to take him out to lunch afterward.
DN exhibiting strong hallmarks of resentment. Citing gender discrimination. Says GA doesn’t like him because he’s a man.
Nora frowned as she replied,
Isn’t GA a man, too?
He couldn’t produce any examples, but admitted he always thought GA needed to be “taken down a few notches.”
Nora told her to rerun every payment approved by Darryl Nolan in the last six months, then tried to put the phone away before realizing her dress had no pockets. She sighed. The finance manager clearly had a bone to pick with Gregg. And it was obvious to anyone with eyes that Logan had issues with her husband, too. Maybe Gregg was right to suspect her—she could easily have colluded with Darryl—but Nora wasn’t going to find anything out by standing in a corner.
Taking a deep breath, Nora steeled herself and walked into the crowd. Everyone she passed took a step back, eyes widening and murmuring to each other. She ignored the stares and whispers, winding her way through the room and concentrating solely on the woman who held court at the end of the red carpet.
When she reached the inner circle, Logan—who wore a sparkling, wide-legged jumpsuit—angled toward her and offered a hand. “Welcome to the pregame.”
“Thank you for inviting me.”
Logan blinked as she tried to place Nora and when the realization finally dawned, her face broke into a mile-wide grin.
“My, my. The beautiful and talented Nora Trier.”
Nora felt herself blush and hoped that between the chaotic lights and the fifteen layers of makeup, her embarrassment remained hidden.
“And what do you do, sweetheart?” asked a burly man to her left, sidling closer.
“She’s a magician. She makes money appear out of thin air.” Logan draped an arm around Nora’s shoulders as the group laughed. “If you’ll excuse us.”
Logan steered them to the edge of the red carpet, leaving Nora with little choice but to match her pace. Several people moved to intercept them, but Logan turned inward, speaking directly into her ear, and the intimacy of the gesture created a bubble between them and the rest of the VIPs.
“Perfect timing. I was on my last joke.”
People paused, openly staring and obviously trying to figure out who Logan Russo was consorting with. A photographer appeared and began snapping pictures.
“How many jokes do you know?”
“One. Or zero, if you don’t think Mike Tyson is a joke.”
“I’ve got one for you.” Logan’s arm was too comfortable against her bare shoulders, the warmth of it too distracting. Nora pulled away and, disregarding the silky fabric rippling around her, climbed into the ring. The ropes glittered with LEDs and a spotlight roamed the sparring area, but it was the only space in the room empty of partygoers. She turned and waited for Logan to join her before taking a breath and launching in.
“A man wanted to hire a manager and he asked every candidate the same question. What’s two plus two?”
Logan listened to the whole routine without cracking a single smile, and combined with the sea of upturned faces, all of whom seemed to be laser-focused on the ring, Nora felt like a stand-up comic dying on stage. It took forever to get to the punch line and when she finally did, Logan didn’t even offer a courtesy laugh. She just shook her head and said, “I’ll never remember that.”
“Do you remember hiring Darryl Nolan?” If small talk wasn’t