by Nina Lindsey
“Well, I am part of it.” She swallowed a rising tide of tears. “Even if I wanted to leave, which I don’t, I have no idea what else I could or even would do.”
“Rory, you can do anything.”
He spoke with such conviction that something inside her broke, as if all the beliefs she’d held about herself suddenly gave way to the possibility of new ones. Her tears spilled over.
Grant closed the distance between them in three strides. The instant his arms went around her, all the anger and tension drained from her.
“I’m not telling you to leave the tech industry.” He stroked his hand down her back. “God knows it needs you. But don’t you dare think that this is all you are.”
She pressed her face to his chest and let out a shuddering sigh.
“By the way,” she mumbled. “I love you, too.”
A soft laugh escaped him. His breath brushed against her hair.
“Don’t worry.” He tightened his grip on her. “I won’t tell anyone.”
Rory let herself sink into the warm, protective circle of his arms. Much as she wanted her work, Grant, her family, Bliss Cove, and a fulfilling, happy, fun life all wrapped up in one pretty package, she’d learned long ago that she couldn’t have everything.
But she could have enough.
Chapter 21
Rory settled into a routine as mid-November approached, due a great deal to Grant’s regularly scheduled weekend visits. After his manager returned from vacation, Grant was able to turn the Mousehole over to him and stay with Rory through Saturday morning and afternoon. She made a point of not even turning on her computer when he visited, and together they explored more of the neighborhood and surrounding enclaves.
When he wasn’t there, she still worked constantly. No one at Digicore had set hours, but most of the others didn’t get to the office until nine or ten, so Rory arrived by six and worked in relative quiet. She answered emails, checked code reviews and log files, studied debugging reports, and worked on her own code.
Her supervisor Brenda didn’t mention the AI cloud project again, and since Rory had plenty of experience with unfounded rumors and unfulfilled promises, she didn’t take the radio silence personally.
In an effort to establish her tribe, she had lunch with Joanna Taylor and several other women who worked for different tech companies, and she attended a networking conference in San Francisco.
Her mother and sisters all drove up for visits, she kept updated on Hunter and Aria’s plans for Mariposa Street, and she made plans for a Thanksgiving trip back to Bliss Cove.
All in all, it was working out as best as she could have hoped for.
She learned to tolerate the open space of The Hive, deflecting coworkers who suddenly came up behind her to remark on her code or tell her she was doing it wrong. She established mutually respectful working relationships with several colleagues and gained a great sense of accomplishment when the project neared its final stages.
“You’re out.” Douglas held up the empty bag of gummy bears from her desk.
“I know. I can’t believe I let that happen.” Rory leaned back in her chair, eyeing the code that wasn’t working. “I have to stop at the gas station during lunch, so I’ll pick up a new supply.”
“Can you get me some Starbursts?”
“Sure.” She stood and stretched her lower back, then zipped up her hoodie. “I’ve got a bug somewhere, but I can’t find it. I’m going to take a break.”
She secured her computer and maneuvered through all the desks and chairs to one of the breakrooms. Her phone buzzed with a text from Joanna confirming their one o’clock lunch date and adding, I need to make a stop at an antique store not far from your office, so I’ll pick you up.
Figuring she could fill her gas tank on the way home, Rory texted back: That would be great. I’ll wait for you outside.
She took a mug from the breakroom cupboard and picked up the coffeepot. The coffee had a sharp, bitter scent and looked like mud—probably because it had been sitting there for hours. She dumped it out and scrounged around for filters and coffee grinds, which always ended up in different places.
Opening a lower cupboard, she found a package of filters and started to shut the door.
Cold slithered down her spine. A large, messy sheet of paper was taped to the inside of the cupboard door, bearing a crude drawing of a large-breasted woman with long dark hair.
Rory pulled the paper off and straightened. The woman in the drawing wore a skimpy bikini that concealed little, and her face was a caricature made up of exaggerated bow-shaped lips and fluttering eyelashes. A lengthy column on the left side contained cryptic scrawls in various handwritings—JTD, 1x, Nov. 7, DTK, 3x, Oct. 20, 25, Nov. 2, MPL, 2x, Nov. 5 &10.
Her breath shortened. The cold intensified, hardening into a tight ball in the middle of her chest.
“You want me to take a look at your code?”
Rory jerked her head up at the sound of the male voice. Douglas stood in the doorway, a mug in his hands. His gaze went from her to the paper and back again. Two spots of red appeared on his cheeks.
Rory crumpled the paper in her fist and held it up. “What the fuck is this?”
“Nothing.” He shrugged, his color deepening. “Just some harmless fun.”
“It looks neither harmless nor fun to me.” She tried to keep her voice even. “What is it, Douglas?”
He averted his gaze and scratched his head.
“Are you going to tell me, or should I take this straight to HR?”
“John started it.” A faint, childish whine infused his voice.
Rory almost choked on a humorless laugh. “What is it?”
“It’s just a game, okay?” He scowled in defensiveness. “To see who…you know.”
“I don’t know.” She gritted her teeth. “But it’s pretty clear this is supposed to be me. What’s the game, Douglas?”
“There’s a…um, code.” He rubbed his neck and looked at the floor. “We’ve just been keeping track of…well, stuff about you.”
The cold inside Rory spread to her blood and bones. “What kind of stuff?”
“Just guy stuff, that’s all. Like how many times one of us got close enough to touch you, or who could look down the front of your shirt. Honestly, it was harmless.”
Rory stared at the paper. The column contained at least half-a-dozen initials, all of which she now recognized as the members of her team, plus another project manager.
She pointed a shaking finger at all the numbers. “What do these mean?”
A dull flush rose to his face. “Uh, that first one is the total number of points. Whoever earned the most by the end of the year would, uh, be the first to try and…you know.”
“What?”
“Get in your pan…um, sleep with you.”
Nausea roiled in the pit of her stomach. “And the others?”
Douglas squinted at the paper. “Those are related to touching you or catching a mistake in your code. The blue one is when you…uh, bent over, and the orange one is…we just kind of made up some fantasies about you and rated them on a scale of one to ten for hotness. Mine was rated a ten. That letter H in red next to John’s name…well, I told him not to do that, but he did.”
“What?”
“He said he was going to cut off a piece of your hair and keep it.” Douglas winced and took a step back. “I’m sorry about that. I thought it was kind of creepy and told him not to.”
Rory used every ounce of strength to control her rising panic. “He cut my hair?”
“When he was passing behind your chair one day. I guess a couple of weeks ago? He had a pair of scissors, and your hair is always hanging over the back of your chair, and he just…snipped off a piece. You didn’t even notice.”
No, she hadn’t. She scoured her brain for a memory of the violation, but couldn’t pinpoint anything. The open office space meant people were constantly walking behind her. She’d learned to ignore the nonstop movemen
t, and if she’d had her headphones on, it was entirely possible that she’d not have noticed John slithering behind her chair and slicing off a piece of her hair.
The sick feeling intensified. She grabbed her ponytail and tugged it around to peer at the ends. Sure enough, a strip of about four inches was gone from the thickest part. She hadn’t even noticed it was missing. She hadn’t been looking.
“We really didn’t mean anything by it.” Douglas twisted his coffee mug around in his hands. “We taped it to the cabinet just so all the players would have access to it.”
Players? “I can’t fucking believe this.”
“It’s not, like, personal.” He tugged at his earlobe. “Um, it’s just that you’re the first girl who’s been hired in a while and, you know, you’re hot and all, so it was meant to be fun.”
“Fun for you.” Alongside her bitter disgust and anger, a deep, black sorrow began to flood Rory’s heart. No, she hadn’t been buddies with her team members and, yes, she’d kept her guard up, but…this? Fun?
“Excuse me.” Still gripping the paper, she gestured sharply for Douglas to get out of her way.
“Come on, Rory. Can’t you take a joke?”
Suppressing the urge to slam her fist into his nose, she stalked past him and headed for the elevators.
Though she was sorely tempted to storm into the office and publicly confront her team members head-on with the disgusting paper, the rational part of her knew exactly how that would be perceived. She could almost hear the laughter and condescending remarks that she needed to “calm down.”
After stepping into the elevator, she punched the second-floor button. She hadn’t always had the best experiences with HR, but there was no way they could deny the evidence of this sick little “game.”
As the elevator descended to the next floor, she pulled in a gulping breath and tried to calm the racing of her heart. The doors opened again, and Brenda stepped into the elevator.
“Is something wrong?” Her sharp gaze pierced through Rory.
“I…I need to talk to Human Resources.” Rory struggled to keep her voice even. “I found out that my team members have been using me as the subject of a demeaning game. I’m going to report them and file complaints.”
Brenda’s eyes narrowed. She stepped out at the second floor and nodded toward the corridor. “Come with me.”
Rory followed her to the women’s restroom, where Brenda closed and locked the door behind them. She snapped her fingers and extended her hand.
After giving her the paper, Rory managed to explain the details of the “game” and the code.
Brenda’s lip curled. “So they stared at your tits and tried to touch your ass.”
Rory swallowed hard. “They made a game of it. John even cut off a piece of my hair.”
“Can you prove that?”
“There’s a four-inch piece of my hair missing.”
“How do I know you didn’t cut it yourself?”
Tension gripped Rory’s stomach. “I’m telling HR about this.”
“No, you are not.” Brenda tore the paper in half. She crumpled the pieces into a ball and threw them in the trash. “If you want even a hope of getting the Principal Engineer position, you’re not going to file silly complaints about your team members. You’ve been here for, what, a little over a month? And now you’re going to whine to HR that the boys are pulling your pigtails and chasing you on the playground?”
“That…” Rory’s hand shook as she pointed at the trash. “That is harassment and a personal violation. I won’t pretend like they were just having fun.”
“You don’t have to pretend anything.” Brenda put her fists on her hips, her features hardening. “I’ll tell you what you’re going to do. You’re going to go back to your desk and get to work, and you’re going to forget you ever saw that stupid paper. Every single person on your team is a high performer, and I will not have this project jeopardized because poor little Rory couldn’t take a juvenile joke.”
Brenda stepped closer. “I told you that you need a thick skin to survive here. You start filing complaints now, and not only will you get yourself a reputation as a whiner, you’ll kill any possibility of becoming Principal Engineer ever. In fact, you’ll be conveniently transferred off any development team and get stuck reviewing code and doing maintenance until you get so bored you quit. And chances are high that a number of men in this company will do whatever they can to make you quit. I guarantee it won’t be pleasant.”
She unlocked the door and yanked it open, tossing Rory a hard look over her shoulder. “Get back to work. We have a project update meeting at four.”
She strode out, letting the door swing shut behind her.
Rory turned on the sink faucet and splashed cold water on her face. Her heart thumped a heavy beat, like a drum warning her of some horrible consequence.
She grabbed the torn, crushed paper from the trash and left the bathroom. It was close enough to lunch that she ignored Brenda’s command and headed outside to wait for Joanna. She needed a few minutes to compose herself before facing Grant’s mother.
Grant.
She ached to call him, if only to hear his deep voice reminding her that she was valued. But God only knew what he’d do in retaliation on her behalf. She needed to figure out how to handle this alone.
“Hello, Rory!” Joanna’s cheerful voice came from the parking lot. “Beautiful day, isn’t it? Have you been to Bird Dog before? They have a seasonal menu, but the last time I was there they had this most wonderful trout that reminded me of Grant’s…my dear, are you all right?”
Rory blinked. She couldn’t seem to form a coherent thought.
“You’re quite pale.” Joanna stopped and peered at her over the tops of her sunglasses. “What on earth is the matter?”
“N-nothing.” Rory waved a hand in front of her face. “It’s just warmer here in the sun than I was expecting. Did you have trouble parking?”
“No. I’m just over…” Joanna’s gaze skirted to the crumpled ball of paper that Rory was clenching and unclenching in her fist. “What are you doing with that?”
“Nothing.” Rory shoved the paper into the side pocket of her bag and forced a smile. “Shall we go?”
She walked toward the parking lot, feeling Joanna’s frown like a burn.
Chapter 22
After reading Rory’s text, Grant tried to call her three times. Each time, her voicemail picked up. He glowered again at the text.
Turns out I’ll be really busy this weekend, so it’s not a great time for you to visit. I’m coming home for Thanksgiving anyway, so I’ll see you then. xo
He wasn’t about to wait until Thanksgiving to see her. While he knew she was putting in far more hours than she should, not for a second did he believe she was using work as a legitimate excuse to keep him away.
Something was wrong.
On Friday evening, he left his manager in charge of the tavern and drove up to San Jose without letting Rory know he was on his way. She wasn’t at home when he arrived at her apartment, and he let himself in with the key she’d given him.
Setting his duffel on the floor, he called her cell. Voicemail picked up. He ended the call without leaving a message and paced from one end of the small room to the other. Close to nine, a key turned in the lock. Rory walked in.
“I saw your truck outside.” She dropped her bag onto her computer chair, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Didn’t you get my text?”
“I got your text.” He curled his hands at his sides, resisting the urge to grab her up into his arms. She looked exhausted, dark circles under her eyes and skin paler than usual. “Looks like you’re home early.”
“There’s a company party going on at a bar near the office.” She shrugged out of her jacket and tossed it over the chair. “I didn’t feel like going. Plus, as I told you, I have a busy weekend and need to be up early.”
“For what?”
“Work.”
“Tomorrow is
Saturday.”
“That doesn’t change my deadline.”
“What’s going on?” Grant folded his arms. “Is this about the lead position you were up for?”
“No.” Rory averted her gaze and took a glass from the kitchen cupboard. “Just a deadline. Nothing more.”
“You think I believe that?” He flexed his hands, hating the tension flooding through him. “Something happened between last Saturday and now. Tell me what it is.”
“Don’t order me around.” She twisted the faucet knob with an abrupt movement and filled the glass with water. “If I don’t want to tell you something, I don’t have to. A few weeks together doesn’t give you the right to every part of my life.”
“What will, then?”
She looked up sharply. “What does that mean?”
“It means…” he stepped closer to her, his heart thumping, “…that I want the right to every part of your life. What do I need to do to earn it?”
“You…” Rory stared at him. Her breath hitched. “You never needed to earn it, Grant. I’m not keeping you out because I don’t trust you. There are just things I can handle alone.”
“I know you can.” He clenched his jaw so tightly it ached. “I’m saying you don’t have to.”
Her eyes glittered. She wiped a drop of water from the outside of her glass. Her hands were shaking.
It took everything he had to keep his distance from her. She was brittle, fragile, exactly the way she’d been the first time he saw her sitting at the bar in the Mousehole.
Only then, even though he’d never seen her before, he’d known what he could do to try and make her feel better.
Now? He knew Rory more intimately, more completely, than he’d ever known anyone and yet he had no idea how to fix this. He didn’t know what the fuck it was.
He paced to the window, dragging a hand through his hair. He hated being helpless.
“Rory.” He turned to face her, clenching his fists against a bolt of fury. “Who was the fucker, and what did he do?”