by Kayt Miller
Fortunately, I’m able to sneak back into my office without having to speak to anyone. Shutting my door behind me, I slump into my chair and lay my forehead on my desk. When my stomach growls, I moan. I’m hungry, and my lunch is in the break room.
I pick up my phone to call Clive when I remember. “Damn it.” I don’t have an assistant. But Graham did tell me to call HR about it, so I do just that.
“HR, this is Cathleen speaking.”
“Cathleen, this is Ben Schilling up on twenty-two.”
“How can I help you, Ben?” The words sound helpful, but her tone says otherwise.
“Graham Morgan told me to give you a call about replacing my assistant, Clive Burgess. He was recently promoted.”
“Mmhmm.”
I wait for her to say more. When the silence gets awkward, I say again, “So, I need an assistant.”
“Well, you see, Mr. Schilling, I’ll need to do some checking on that.”
“What?” I’m a little surprised. “Why?” Every other manager has an assistant. There shouldn’t be a question.
“It’s just how this works. I’ll check with your department manager.”
She’s got to check with Sam? Since when? “But Graham said—”
“It’s how it works, Mr. Schilling. I’ll be in touch.” Then she hangs up.
Surely Sam won’t say no. He’s my friend, after all.
“No?” I can’t believe this. “You’re saying I can’t even get a temporary assistant?” When I got the word from Cathleen in HR that my request was denied, I called Sam directly, but that doesn’t seem to be going any better for me.
“Sorry, dude. With all this shit going on with that consultant broad, no can do.”
Broad? Who says shit like that anymore? Nobody with any sense, that is. That’s a 1950s expression, for crying out loud. And sexist to boot. I’m sort of surprised to hear it come out of Sam’s mouth, honestly.
“Fine.” I sigh heavily. “Thanks anyway.”
“As soon as this shit is over, we’ll get you someone real nice.”
Whatever. “Sure.”
He chuckles like he didn’t just rip the rug out from under me. “You up for a drink tonight?”
“No. I need to get home.” Need isn’t the right word. I want to go home and hang out with Sky. She’ll listen. Hell, I’m fairly certain she’s my only friend now.
“Something wrong with your mangy mutt?”
I ignore his words. She’s neither mangy nor a mutt. She’s beautiful. “No, she’s good. Just have some home stuff to do. Laundry is piling up.” That’s definitely true, but I’ve no intention of doing that tonight.
“Well, get it done so we can go out this week. I need a drink, man. This shit around here is stressing me out.”
“Me too.”
“I bet,” he says with another stupid chuckle. “You need to watch your back.”
“Yeah?” It feels that way, but after speaking to Alison, I wasn’t sure. But if Sam says it, it must be true. My stomach flips.
I might as well agree. “Sure. I’ll watch my back.”
Even though Alison told me the three issues in the green folder, something still feels off. I’ve got nothing to do with any of the issues she mentioned, so could there be more? Maybe I should go get a drink with him so I can hear his thoughts—and the gossip.
But I’m still not in the mood.
Hanging up with Sam, I grab a piece of paper to start my to-do list for this afternoon. I’ve gotten nothing done the last few days with all of this stuff going on. I need to focus, and a list is just the way to do it.
Tapping my pen on the paper, I close my eyes, attempting to concentrate on my task. That is until a knock sounds on my door. I stare at my closed door for a few seconds. When the knock comes again, I have a sense of foreboding. But I can’t ignore it forever. “Come in.”
I watch as the door slowly opens and a long leg steps over my threshold.
“Alison?” I ask, standing.
She moves into the room and shuts the door behind her. “Ben. Can we talk for a minute?”
“Sure.” I motion for her to take the only other chair in my office. It’s all I’ve got room for.
“Thanks.” She reaches for the chair and pulls it out far enough for her to sit. “First of all, I want to set the record straight.”
I nod, choosing to keep my mouth shut for now.
“Nothing in that report is outright accusing you of anything.”
“No? Is it insinuated?”
She shakes her head. “I can’t get into that.”
“Okay.” Frustrating, but I guess I get it. “Sam Ford just told me I needed to watch my back.”
Her mouth is agape, but she quickly shakes her head and says, “I can’t fathom why he’d say something like that.”
I arch my brow. “You can’t?”
“No, I can’t. I haven’t spoken to him, nor have I given anyone any indication what my probe is about. No one but you. I told you things over lunch that I shouldn’t have.”
“I won’t say anything.”
“I know.” Her voice is soft, and her eyes are even softer. Is she realizing I’m not the creep she thinks I am?
“If you know, then why do you think this is happening?”
She shakes her head, “I don’t know, but I aim to find out.” Leaning forward, she speaks softly, like she’s afraid someone will hear her. “I’m going to trust you, Ben.”
“You are?”
“I am. I need to ask you a few things, but it needs to stay in this room.” She points to the ground.
I nod. She trusts me. That’s big.
“What do you know about Sam Ford?”
“Sam?” I say much too loudly. I quickly quiet down. “He’s a good guy.”
“Yeah, but what do you know about him?”
“He went to a Big Ten school. Wisconsin.”
“And?” She’s starting to look a little impatient.
“And he’s divorced. Has a couple of kids.”
“Where did he work before coming to MFH?”
“Uh, let me think.” I lean my head back for a second. When I’ve got it, I look back at her. My God, she’s so damn pretty. “I think he was in Chicago.”
“That’s right.” She crosses one long leg over the other, and I do my best not to stare. “But he was fired.”
“Fired?” I pause. “How do you know—”
“I did some checking.”
“Well, people get fired. Why was he let go?”
“I don’t know. Yet. They wouldn’t say. I’ll keep trying.”
“Wouldn’t HR know?” They’d have to know he was fired from his previous employer and the reason. “Or we could just ask him.”
“No.” She said it so quickly and so resolutely that I didn’t think it was wise to push the point.
“I’m supposed to have a drink with him this week. Maybe I could—”
“No.”
“Why not? I could bring up my last job and ask him about his.”
She doesn’t immediately shut that idea down. “If you could find out in casual conversation, then that could probably work.”
Chapter Fifteen
Ben
“I’m glad you changed your mind, buddy,” Sam says, taking a long pull from his third bourbon. “I really needed a drink after dealing with this consultant bullshit.”
“Yeah.” I nod in agreement. Picking up my domestic beer, I take a long swig. “Such bullshit.” And it is, but after talking with Alison this afternoon, I’m not feeling quite as angry about all of it as Sam is, apparently.
“You need to watch your back, kid.”
“I know.”
When the waitress stops by our table, I order us a couple baskets of wings. Sam seems to appreciate the gesture.
Leaning closer, he attempts to whisper, but it comes out a little loud and hoarse. “I’m going to tell you a little secret.”
“Yeah?” I lean in too.
; “You need to fuck that chick if you want to keep your job.”
That chick? “Uh, you mean Alison?”
“Yeah, the fat one. You need to hide your salami in her—” He cackles, and I feel like I may puke. “—in her cunt.”
“Sam….” I’ve never heard him talk like this. Ever. I’m going to be honest with you right now. It makes me feel dirty, and not in a sexy way. It’s a disgusting thing to say. “No—”
“What? Like you haven’t thought about it?” He leans over and slaps my shoulder. Hard. “You’re gonna be out on your ass unless you do something about it. And fucking that… that consultant”—he says the last word with such contempt, I wince—“will give you the protection you need.”
I can’t keep going with this conversation. “Hey, what’d you do before coming to Morgan?” Probably not the best way to segue into this conversation, but I had to change the subject.
“More of the same.” He sighs as he throws back the last of his bourbon. Raising his hand, he searches the room. “Where’d that sexy little waitress run off to? I need another drink.”
Who is this guy? “Maybe you’ve had enough.”
Slamming the glass down on the table, he gives me a look that makes a chill run down my back. I half expect him to throw the glass at me, but in a millisecond, his expression changes to a big smile. “Nah, let’s have another. We’re celebrating.”
“Oh?” I hadn’t realized. “What are we celebrating?”
“You getting your dick wet in that fat chick.”
First of all, she’s not fat. Not in the least. Sure, she’s got curves, but they’re in all the right places. I choose to leave it alone and try to steer the conversation back to my question. “After college, I worked at a little software company in Jersey before landing the job at Morgan. It was a mom-and-pop setup, so there was no place for me to go.”
Sam snorts. “Yeah, like you’re going anywhere at Morgan.”
I guess there’s no other place for me to go except into a job like Sam’s, so he’s right. I shrug. “Were you over your department in your last job?”
“Yeah.” He’s looking angry again. “Where the fuck is our waitress?”
I turn and see her heading our way holding two baskets. Hopefully those are our wings. Sam needs some food to soak up that booze.
“’Bout time,” he grumbles as she sets the food down in front of us. “Get me another.” He holds up his glass, wiggling it back and forth in front of her face.
“Sure. Be right back.”
“Right,” Sam mumbles.
I push one of the baskets of wings closer to him. “I ordered your favorite. With extra hot sauce.”
“Nice.” He smiles down at the food. Reaching out, he grabs two or three with his fist and brings them to his mouth.
“Bones,” I say, surprised. “There’re bones, man.”
He sneers at me. Literally sneers. “I know, you fucking asshole.”
Wow.
Pulling my wings closer to me, I dig in. I plan to eat fast so I can get the hell out of here.
I eat in silence as the waitress brings him another bourbon along with two glasses of water. Ignoring the water, Sam goes straight for the golden liquid. He sips and chews his food in silence. When he’s nearly finished with his wings, he sighs, wiping off his face. He’s missed a bit around his mouth, but I’m not in the mood to tell him. Let him walk around looking like an asshole. I couldn’t care less.
“My last job was in Chicago, and they were fucking assholes.”
Finally we’re getting somewhere.
“Accused me of a bunch of bullshit. I quit.” The last word causes some food to fly out of his mouth onto the table in front of me.
He quit? Not according to Alison. But I keep quiet, only nodding.
“Said I sexually harassed some of my coworkers.”
Some? How many is some?
“Fucking bitches. All of them.” He sips his drink, then points at me. “You need to watch your back, man.”
“Why?” I mean, I’ve never sexually harassed anyone.
I guess my question is funny, because Sam throws his head back and laughs. Hard. When he finally stops, his face turns serious again. “You think you’re above it all, don’t you, Ben?” He spits my name like he did the other word.
“No, I—”
“You and that fucking ridiculous superhero bullshit.”
Okay….
“You’re nothing but a fucking pussy wannabe.”
I stare at the man I used to call friend.
“So sick of hearing ‘how great Ben is’ from every single chick at work.” He snorts. “Hell, Clive used to be your biggest fan.” Sucking down the last of his drink, he turns, looking for the waitress again. I know I should stop him from drinking more, but he’s not driving, and this is getting interesting.
I decide to jump in with both feet. “Clive hates my guts.”
“Now.” He chuckles again. “Now he does.”
“Why is that?” I’m getting the distinct impression that Sam knows exactly why Clive hates me.
Leaning closer, he hisses, “He probably figured out what you’re really like.”
“What I’m really like?” This ought to be good.
“Yeah. You’re a guy who relies on his looks to get everything he wants.” Another chuckle.
What the hell is he talking about? “Interesting.” I’ve lost my appetite, so I do the only thing I can and sip my water.
“Isn’t it?”
“I didn’t realize you had such contempt for me, Sam.” I thought we were friends.
He sneers. “You think your shit don’t stink.”
“That’s not true.” I’m just staring at him now. I don’t know what else to say. The guy obviously hates me.
Pulling out my wallet, I throw down forty bucks. Standing, I slide my wallet back into my pocket and take my phone out. There are no messages, which isn’t a surprise. I turn to leave.
“Hey!” Sam shouts. “Where you goin’?” I keep walking toward the door. “Ben, man. What’s wrong?” Ignoring him, I get to the door just as he yells, “Fuck you, asshole!”
“Same to you,” I mumble under my breath. “Same to you.”
Chapter Sixteen
Alison
I have to blink to make sure I’m seeing what I’m seeing. It is. It’s Ben Schilling, and he’s in my neighborhood. Weird. I’ve never seen him here before. He’s standing in line at Mike’s Pizza, one of my favorite fast-food places in the city. My first instinct is to turn and go the other way, but after talking to him in his office today, I feel like I need to say hello at the very least.
Moving closer, I can see he’s chatting with a young woman in line.
Maybe I shouldn’t bother him. Perhaps he’s on a date. When he turns and faces forward as the line moves, I decide he’s alone. At least I hope so.
“Ben,” I say a little louder than my regular voice. Luckily, he hears me.
“Alison.” Ben smiles brightly, and a warmth hits me smack-dab in the chest.
When I get about a foot from him, I pause before speaking to make sure I’m not interrupting a date or something. I peek at the woman behind him, making sure she’s not going to be angry. She’s on her phone, oblivious to me, so I say, “I’m surprised to see you in LIC.”
I don’t hear a response because for some insane reason, Ben grabs me and pulls me into him. His arms are wrapped so tightly around me that I can’t even move my own as he drags me back about three feet. I struggle to get free as I spit, “Ben. What are you doing? Let me go.” I was right about him. He’s all nice and normal at work, but the second I see him outside of the place, he’s a lech and a creep. I’m so angry I want to punch him in the other eye. When I feel myself falling forward, I squeeze my eyes shut, anticipating the impact with the ground all while I scream, “Ben! Stop!”
I feel us hit the ground hard. Hard enough that I’m nearly jostled free from the man’s grip but not quite. I’m able t
o raise my knee a little bit, but not enough to jam it into his groin. Too bad. I’d like nothing more than to rack this guy.
“Mister… your dog,” says a young voice from somewhere behind me.
“Sky?” Ben releases me, practically pushing me off him.
I roll onto my back and watch him jump up in one go and run. He doesn’t go far before he stops and drops to his knees. A small group has gathered around whatever Ben’s looking at. His back is to me, but I see him hunched down, shaking.
“You were lucky.” I look up and into the eyes of an older man.
“Lucky?” I scoff because it’s laughable. I’m lucky I got grabbed on the street again? And by the same guy, no less?
“You were about to get run over by that asshole on his bike.”
I blink a few times. “A bike?”
The woman who was behind Ben steps over to me. “Yeah. Some jerk on his bike jumped the curb. He was heading right for you.”
“He was?”
“Yeah, that guy saved you.” She turns to look at Ben, then back at me. She’s sniffling. “His little dog got hit.”
“He has a dog?” I don’t wait for an answer, just roll onto my knees and push myself up. I step toward Ben as he leans forward, arms out, like he’s scooping something up. Then he’s up onto one knee. He pushes up to his feet, and that’s when I see he does, in fact, have something in his arms. “Ben?”
I guess he doesn’t hear me because he begins to move away from me, down the street. I watch as he picks up his pace. When he jumps in front of a taxi, I freeze. “Is he trying to kill himself?”
Ben runs around the car and wrenches the door open. When he slides inside, I can see him talking to the driver.
I’m not sure where she came from, but a woman steps up to me and says, “I told him about the emergency vet place over on Crescent Street.”
“Okay.” I nod. Without giving it another thought, I raise my arm and hail the first taxi I see. Jumping into the back, I say, “Veterinarian on Crescent.”