8. Sloan

CHAPTER 8

Sloan

S loan still hasn't heard from Daisy, and now she's starting to wonder if Daisy ever planned to send her ideas over. Not for the first time, she asks herself if Daisy would really be that petty and lie about trying to work together. Was her agreement a way to get rid of Sloan?

Yes, her brain responds firmly.

"Shut up," she says as she enters her family's office building.

"Sorry, Miss Wilks, what was that?"

"Shit," she says. "I'm sorry, Briryn. I was talking to myself."

"Not to worry. We all have those kinds of days, madam," he responds. "I hope your day improves, Miss Wilks."

She smiles weakly but responds in kind, "Thank you, Briryn. I hope you have a wonderful day as well."

Opening her office door, she releases a sigh of relief, thankful she managed not to run into anyone else along the way. The office is oddly quiet for late morning, but she brushes it off, assuming they're all in meetings or running errands.

With her laptop open and waiting, she conjures a cup of coffee and a bagel and gets to work responding to emails that came in overnight. Her brain quiets as she taps and clicks away, the world around her falling into the distance. She's chasing task after task, like little pixies trying to escape, and the sense of accomplishment with each task completed makes the ember in her nearly stone heart spark. Just a bit.

The day passes without any major cauldron spills, and for that, she is truly grateful. However, Daisy's lack of communication has left a lingering taste of frustration in her mouth, metallic and tangy. That could also be blood from biting her tongue as she tries to be professional and not cuss Daisy out.

She's frustrating, that's for sure, but the look on her face after the council told her about her parents was… heartbreaking. As hard as Daisy tried to keep it together, she could see the pain written across her face. Sloan wanted to reach out and comfort her. She ached to say something to help ease her turmoil, but she knew better. Daisy wouldn't receive it as anything other than pity, especially coming from her. So rather than pestering Daisy like she wants to so they can get this project going, she's giving her more grace. Then, she will begin pestering her.

As she packs up her things, she calls out, "Boris, can you make sure to have a copy of the Sharpe contract for me in the morning?" The undeniable sound of Boris shuffling around his desk answers her. She tilts her head back, looking up to the ceiling, and taps her foot as she waits. "Boris!" she calls out again after no response.

"Yes, madam. I am capable of getting you a contract," the goblin responds.

"Then you should also be capable of responding to acknowledge my request."

"I would if I felt it deserved one."

Sloan holds in her actual response and instead replies, "Good night, Boris." If he weren't such a helpful assistant, she'd feel more obligated to write that poop-nozzle up. She hears him call back his own farewell greeting and chooses to ignore the "wicked witch" at the tail end of it.

Stepping into the night and toward her SUV, her phone rings in her pocket. Pulling it out she sees it is her mother and lets out an audible sigh. Steeling herself, she answers, "Hi, Mother."

"Hello, my girl," Cecilia, her mother, replies. "How are you?"

"I'm good. I'm just leaving the office." Sloan says. "What can I do for you?" She winces as she says it, knowing that's a dangerous question. She should know better than to open herself up to requests from her mother.

"Oh, I don't need anything. I just haven't seen you in a few days and thought we could chat."

Sloan slides into the front seat of her vehicle, tossing her purse on the passenger seat. She tilts her head back, closing her eyes as she faces the roof. She pinches the bridge of her nose, already regretting what she's about to ask. "What would you like to talk about, Mother?"

"Well, I heard through the coven lines that you have been assigned an important new project with the council."

"Yes."

"And that you are working with that Hale girl," Cecilia says, not attempting to hide the disdain in her voice.

"Also, yes."

"You really should see if they can find you a new partner. Your father and I can talk to the council if you'd like. Let them know that the project would work much better with someone more worthy as a partner."

This isn't the first time she's heard comments like these from her parents. They've spent her entire life making sure Sloan knew who was appropriate to associate with and who was not. Her mother believes in this magical elitism, but after the Premier Witch competition last year, Sloan can firmly say that she doesn't share those opinions. She wants to help, not harm. But pushing against her mother is like pushing against a brick wall. Unmoving and wasted effort. "The council has selected us because we both bring unique skills to the table, and they want us to utilize them together." Her mother clicks her tongue in disapproval. "I appreciate the concern, Mother. But Daisy and I will be okay. I will not let the family down."

Her mother scoffs lightly. "Oh, darling, I'm not worried about you letting us down. I'm concerned about how associating with the likes of her will tarnish what could be a successful project. Something that could really catapult the Wilkses to new levels within the community." It's always something with her. Always seeking new ways to have their family be better than others.

"I appreciate the concern," Sloan says, desperate to get out of this conversation, "but I assure you, we will be successful. Anyway, I am about to head home, and I'm tired."

Thankfully, her mother doesn't try to keep the discussion going. "Okay, my girl. Talk soon."

"Bye, Mother." Sloan hangs up and lightly tosses her phone on the passenger seat. Her mother doesn't even know Daisy. She's judging her based on what her parents did. But she's not her parents, just as much as Sloan is not hers. As she starts the car, Sloan hopes that someday she'll be able to be known for being Sloan rather than for being another Wilks.

On her way home, she stops at her favorite bookstore, picking up a new thriller to keep her company for the night. What's better company than a book about a serial killer on the loose? Arriving home, she turns on the fireplace with a flick of her wrist and changes into her comfy clothes, settling in on the couch with a small cheese and meat platter and her new book.

As the evening wanes, she begins to think about Daisy and this new project they've been assigned. Placing her book face down on the table, she picks up her phone and brings up the message thread with Daisy. Sloan sent Daisy her email address nearly a week ago and hasn't heard anything back. Normally, she would have followed up with a client at least twice by now with a reminder, but she knows things are sensitive with Daisy. Sloan needs to treat this interaction as if she is approaching a wounded animal. Slowly.

It takes almost an hour of going back and forth in her mind before Sloan musters up the courage to send Daisy a follow-up message. She reminds herself that it's been nearly a week, and that seems like it's been long enough in between messages.

Sloan

Hi Daisy. I may have missed it, but I don't think I've received anything as of yet about the plans you mentioned.

I look forward to working on this project and would love to get started on it.

Hope to hear from you soon.

She holds her phone in her hand, watching the screen. She sees the messages go to read, and three dots momentarily appear, but no reply comes.

"Why does she need to make this so difficult?" Sloan says to the empty room as she picks up her book again and continues to read into the wee hours of the morning.