“Did you tell her?”
“Nah.” He sank onto a couch and bit into a cookie. “I’ll leave that to you. She’s on her way.”
“Do you ever not smile?”
He took another bite. “Admit it, Sausage Link. You need my eternal optimism to keep from slipping into despair. And I need your pessimism to ground me in reality.”
I ignored his bantering. “Will your team be okay without her?”
He kicked a foot onto his knee. “I’ll miss her, for sure. But with the lawsuit, we need another person on board. I’ve got Janey and the boys to think about now. I can’t be working eighty hour weeks, even if I believe the cause is just.” He raised an eyebrow. “But I’ll need at least two more team members to replace her.”
“Done. You have the green light.”
“Wow. That was easy.” He broke off a piece of cookie and handed it to me.
I shooed him away.
“Try to lighten up, Link.” He popped the rest of the cookie into his mouth. “Smile when Gemma gets here. Don’t scare her away.”
“I’ll smile when there’s something to smile about.”
“You have plenty to smile about. I offered you a cookie, and I let you steal my star team member.” He grinned. “You’ll enjoy working with Gemma. She has a quirky sense of humor, like yours before Angeline smothered the life out of you.”
I pounded my desk. “Don’t say her name.” My ex was a forbidden topic. “I don’t need Ms. Stone for anything but to entice investors. And don’t talk with your mouth full.”
“Aye-aye, sir!” He gave me a taunting salute.
I held up my middle finger, making him chuckle as he left.
Minutes later, Lionel informed me that Ms. Stone had arrived.
The girl entered, and I bit my tongue at her attire. Parachute pants and a kimono sweater that hung to her knees. A gaudy ensemble of necklaces like a damn flower child. Her hair was even worse. Two buns on top, with the rest in those awful braids. Elton John mashed ruthlessly into Princess Leia.
I motioned to a couch. “Would you like something to drink?”
“No, thank you.”
“Then I’ll get right to business. I have a proposition for you, Ms. Stone.”
Her feline eyes narrowed. Did she have Middle-eastern roots? Some other exotic blood?
“I’ve watched you for the past month and am impressed with your stats.” But not her garish outfits.
“Thank you.”
She had a lovely voice, so at odds with her flamboyant style. Did I detect an accent? Her English was perfect, but her cadence sounded more pleasing to the ear than that of a normal loud-mouthed American.
“To reward you, I’m offering you a promotion. And a raise.”
Her lips pressed together. “A promotion?”
“Senior Associate, Capital Development. You’ll work with me to entice new investors to EcoCore.” I’d spare her the legalese. My attorney would, in simple terms, funnel new investments she could drum up into a shell company my ex wouldn’t be able to touch, if she by chance won her suit against EcoCore. I gestured to the adjoining office visible through the SmartGlass. “That’ll be yours. You’ll do much the same as now, except with much higher stakes.”
“I’m not interested. I enjoy working for Mr. Carter.”
“He’s on board. Besides, I haven’t told you the best part. I’ll be doubling your salary.”
Her eyes widened, and I knew I had her. Money moved everyone.
“That’s uh, very generous, but my answer’s still no.” She stood. “I enjoy the sales team.”
So this was her greedy game.
I blocked her retreat, making her flinch and take a step back. “Name your price.” She seemed to have an intuitive sense when it came to negotiation.
“It’s not about money. I just don’t want to work for you.”
I reared back at her figurative slap in the face.
“I won’t leave Mr. Carter’s team no matter what you offer.”
My fists tightened and loosened. “Don’t be ridiculous. Only a fool would turn down this opportunity.”
“I’m a fool then.” She pushed past me and walked out the door.
Saemira
Age 8 - Fushë Krujë, Albania
MAGIC: supernatural power. Mama believes in magic from her gods. Baba says Sky God does miracles, not magic.
A ruckus near the edge of the schoolyard made Saemira look up. Esad, one of the older boys, yelled and pointed at something. She left the jump rope game to see what was happening.
“Gypsy freak!” Esad shook his fist at the cursed, burned boy standing near the road.
She didn’t know what gypsy meant, but Esad had gotten the freak part correct. Bengalo looked scary.
Esad threw a rock, and Bengalo ran off. “Don’t come back! Horrid gypsies. Thieves, all of them.” He looked at her. “They steal your soul.”
She chewed her lips. “What happens if a gypsy takes your soul?”
“You become their slave, and they make you do bad things.”
That must be what had happened to her. The cursed boy had stolen her soul when she’d cleaned his burned skin, making her steal his uncle’s amulet.
“Gypsies target little girls like you.”
She shuddered. “What should I do?”
Esad pulled a rock from his pocket. “See how the gypsy ran when I threw my magic stone at him?”
“Can I have it?”
He rubbed his chin. “What will you give me?”
She frowned. Baba didn’t let her carry money around. Too dangerous. But gypsies and angry gods seemed scarier.
“What about these?” Esad rattled the bracelets on her arm. Her lucky ones. “These and your lunch for the next week.”
Saemira handed her bracelets over.
He stuffed them in his pocket and gave her the rock. “Use it quick before the magic wears off. Have money for another, no?”
She stared at her new rock. Shouldn’t a magic stone be pretty? This one looked like all the others in the schoolyard. But the gypsy had run off when Esad had thrown his stone. Maybe it didn’t have to be pretty to be magic.
Gemma
I touched Mama’s amulet as I peeked inside my boss’s office. “You wanted to see me, Mr. Carter?”
He glanced up from his desk. “Come in, Gemma. Have a seat.” He gestured to some chairs by the wall. “And call me Joe.”
I liked how his chair didn’t make me feel puny, as the CEO’s had. Mr. Carter—Joe—pulled a chair around to face me. So personable. The nerve of Mr. McConnell to suppose I would betray such a kind man.
“Coffee?”
“No, thanks. I’m caffeined-up.”
He fidgeted. “I heard you turned down Link’s”—he made a face—“I mean Mr. McConnell’s promotion.”
“Yes.” I sat up taller.
“Why? He offered to double your salary.”
“Aren’t you glad I chose to stay on your team? Don’t you value my efforts?”
“I do. Which is why I can’t hold you back.”
What did he mean by that? “You’re firing me?”
“Heavens, no.” He laughed. “Besides a couple of engineers who’ve been with Link from the beginning, you’re the most valuable employee in this company right now. I just don’t want you to flat-line on the sales team when you have the opportunity to maximize your potential by working with Mr. McConnell. Think of what the sales team would’ve lost out on if you’d never moved up from the janitorial staff.”
“But I don’t want to work with him.”
“Why? Lincoln’s a good guy.”
“No, he isn’t.” My hands fisted in my lap. “He beat his wife and made her lose their baby.” I thought of my own mama’s many losses, which made the CEO’s actions especially repugnant.
“You read the old article?”
“Once I decided to stay, I researched Mr. McConnell to learn more about the man I indirectly work for.”
“Did you researc
h me?”
“I already know you’re a good guy.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “But I’m Lincoln’s best friend.”
“What?” I twirled a lock of hair.
“We’ve been friends since seventh grade when his family moved here from Baltimore. They lived a few doors down from me. Lincoln’s little sister, Cora, had muscular dystrophy. First thing he said when we met was we couldn’t be friends if I wouldn’t let Cora hang out with us. I thought that was cool. We became the three stooges—until she died our senior year.”
“That’s why he’s so…mean now?”
He snorted. “Heavens, no. Cora’s death inspired him to make the world a better place for those with disabilities. Look at his products—the EcoWalker, the EcoLift, the EcoAssist.” He ran a hand through his hair. “Please don’t take what I’m saying outside this room. He isn’t a man who likes to talk about his problems.”
“Of course.”
Ben held out a plate of cookies. “Want one? My wife made them.”
I couldn’t pass up a homemade treat. “Thanks.”
“Link was doing great until Angeline came into the picture. His ex-wife.” Joe grimaced. “I don’t know all the details of his time with her—we kind of had a falling out—but she seriously messed with his head. I know in here,” he hit his chest, “that she manipulated facts to make him appear to be a monster. I know my friend. He would never have touched her in anger, especially if she’d been pregnant. He wanted to be a father more than anything.”
I swallowed a bite of cookie. “But I saw the photos. The poor woman was brutalized. She couldn’t have made that up.”
Joe growled. “The poor woman could and would. But you’re right. The police believed her. So did the reporters. Lincoln spent a couple days in jail before he called me to bail him out. And then she dropped all charges like magic. If he’d beaten her, do you really think she would’ve let him off the hook? But it wasn’t about what was right. It was about the money. It still is.” Joe turned his chair around and dropped back down. “Will you do me a favor?”
I sighed. “You want me to work with him.”
“It’s your choice. But I’m hoping you’ll give him a chance. Try the new position for a month, let’s say. Put what you read out of your mind. Get to know the real man. Honestly, I want this for him as much as you. This is the first time in years he’s been willing to let an outsider into his circle. Maybe you’ll get his heart pumping again.”
“Uh, that’s not in my job description.”
“No, but you have a zest for life that’s contagious. Maybe it’ll rub off on him. He’s only had Lionel around for years. Those two zap the fun out of everything.”
That was for sure.
“Will you do it?” Joe asked.
“I guess. One month, you say?”
“Yeah. But I hope you’ll stay longer.”
“Don’t hold your breath.” I wanted to believe Joe, that his friend was innocent. But I’d interacted enough with the CEO to know he wasn’t a nice guy, even if he didn’t pound on women. And the guy already seemed to despise me. Maybe for the color of my skin. Or for what I wore—he’d been vocal about his distaste for my outfits. No way would I work for him any longer than necessary.
That was as misguided as believing in magic stones.
Joe moved the last of my meager belongings into my new office and tapped the desk. “I believe that’s everything.”
Aaron had razzed me that I’d forget him and the other peons in sales now that I’d moved up in the world. Whatever. He didn’t know I’d be back in my safe, cute cubicle in four short weeks.
I squirmed, not liking being so close to the CEO. Only SmartGlass separated our offices. Yet I trusted Joe, and he wanted me to do this.
Mr. McConnell joined us. “Thanks for accepting the promotion, Miss Stone.”
“It’s temporary. Mr. Carter said to give you a month.”
He glared at Joe, and I chalked up a point against the rich snob.
“Relax, Data-Link,” Joe said. “I’m sure your charming personality will win her over, and she won’t give me and the sales team a second thought.”
I snorted, drawing a scowl from my new boss. “Oh, wow.” I picked up a fancy name plaque that read: Gemma Stone: Senior Associate – Capital Development. The golden letters glowed in the sunlight, shouting to the world, or at least to those who entered my office, that I was someone important. For a month, anyway.
“Well, I’m off. You two have fun, but not too much.” Joe winked. “There’s work to be done, you know?”
Mr. McConnell flipped him off, making me chalk up another point against him.
He gave me a quick perusal once we were alone, the twist of his lips revealing displeasure. Probably wanted me to dress all boring. Or show more skin.
Three points against Mr. M. This would be a quick month.
“The best way to prepare you for your new duties is to give you a tour of development, down a level. Come with me.”
He led me to the elevator, telling me about different products in the planning stage. I studied my new boss as we descended. He was physical perfection, but what did his sexy face and body hide? Was he the monster the papers had exposed? Or the kind, wounded man Joe had depicted?
We exited, and Mr. McConnell led me up a hall and pressed a finger to a keypad.
“You know,” I observed as metal doors opened, “you might want to add a second fail-safe to the keypad, such as a code. A bad guy who wanted to break in and do corporate espionage could cut off your finger and get into this lab quite easily.” I’d watched a TV show where someone had done just that.
“Is that something you’re planning to do, Ms. Stone?”
“Not today.”
His lips twitched. Not exactly a smile, but I’d take it.
Mr. McConnell led me around the lab and had different engineers give me demos of the products in various stages of development. I’d assumed, after reading his ex’s allegations, that Mr. M was an opportunist who’d stolen her ideas to pass them off as his own. But watching him banter back and forth with the engineers revealed he understood as much as, or more, than they did. This didn’t necessarily prove his innocence, but it did give me pause.
The man was smart.
This lab was better than Disneyland. Not that I’d been there. I asked tons of questions, and surprisingly, my boss didn’t get annoyed. In fact, he grew more animated with each question, totally falling into his element.
Still, I wasn’t quite ready to let him off the hook. If he’d been innocent, he would’ve defended himself against his wife’s accusations. And he hadn’t.
My brain soaked in the science like a dried-out sponge. When we headed back upstairs, I pondered the new data. Before the tour, I’d have given my chances of working with Mr. M long-term a zero out of ten. Now, I’d raise it to a four. Besides my doubled salary, I’d have opportunities for bonuses. If I could keep Duke from finding out about my luck, I might get ahead and escape his tentacles.
Mr. M’s phone rang. “Yes?” He listened, then smacked his leg. “Damn it. No. I’ll be right there.”
The elevator dinged, and the doors opened to the sales floor.
“Meddling gypsies,” he muttered.
I flinched. Was he angry at me? Had I done something wrong?
“There’s been an incident in the garage,” he said. “Go ahead and get settled in your office. We’ll talk more later.”
I hurried off the elevator, and the doors shut behind me.
Whew. He hadn’t been angry at me, but he obviously didn’t like my kind either. And to think he’d almost convinced me he wasn’t an ogre.
Lesson learned. I could not afford to let down my guard around the guy. Men like him could, and would, hurt me.
7
Lincoln
Joe and I high-fived each other as Gemma clinched another deal—her third since she’d taken on her new role a week ago. My friend had been right. Ms. Stone was gol
d. She could get people to trust her and to invest in the dreams she made them picture. After picking up on my vision during the tour of development, she’d been stoked to get to work.
She spotted us through the glass and held up both thumbs.
We entered her office, which appeared as though a rainbow had vomited all over it. Pompoms hung from her desk. Beads and other colorful doodads decorated a potted tree. A garish blanket with tasseled edges draped the filing cabinet.
Gemma gave Joe a dazzling smile. That and her beguiling eyes gave me hope that if she dressed more conservatively, I could use her in face-to-face meetings.
“How was that, Mr. M?”
I frowned at her casual address.
“You were spectacular.” Joe gave her a fist bump.
Gemma kicked her funky pumps onto the gleaming surface of the Macassar ebony.
I cleared my throat. “That desk cost me twenty grand. Please don’t use it as a doormat.”
Gemma jumped out of her chair. Quite gracefully. “Holy shiitake!”
Her words surprised a laugh out of me.
“I hate to say it, Mr. M, but you got ripped off. I paid a fifth of that for my car.”
Joe snickered.
“Your car isn’t half as nice.”
Gemma shrugged. “Nope. Old Fiznik has car warts and hair growing out of his hood.”
“You named your car?” I asked.
“Don’t you name yours?”
“Absolutely not.”
“You used to,” Joe said.
I pointed at the door. “Don’t you have a sales team to run?”
He winked at Gemma. “Ask him about his Jeep in high school.” He waved. “See ya later, Linked-In.”
Gemma turned to me when we were alone. “So?”
“I don’t name my cars.”
“I’m not surprised. People who dress as boring as you are too lame to think up names for their cars.”
“And people who dress as atrociously as you and decorate their desks with pompoms can’t help but give their cars frivolous names.”
Of Stone and Sky Page 4