by Penny Reid
I proceeded to tell her about going back to the club last night and everything that proceeded: the black out, the waking up in Quinn’s sister’s apartment with no clothes on, the fact that he’d wanted to be sure I knew he didn’t make a move on me, breakfast and the business card. Elizabeth listened- frowning in disapproval, surprise, or confusion mostly- and didn’t interrupt even when I knew she was anxious to get to the origin of my matching business card.
“So...” she contemplated me for a moment after I finished, “So did you pick up the test? To see if you were drugged?”
I shook my head, “No, I meant to but-” I sighed, let my head fall back to the couch, “When I got home I was so tired.”
“Oh! Thank God Quinn found you!” She squeezed my hand with hers, “Wait- did anything happen? How did he find you? When did he bring you home? Did anyone... are you ok? Did you go to a doctor?”
“Yes- I mean no.” I sighed again, “Yes, I am ok. No, nothing happened. No, I didn’t go to a doctor. I think Quinn found me before anything happened.”
“Oh.” She squeezed my hand harder then let go and rubbed her eyes, “This is a lot to process. I’m exhausted. I can’t believe you went back to the club. He obviously likes you- he was flirting with you. Why would he take you to his sister’s place? Who does that? And what was with the reserved seating at breakfast? Did this waitress woman really have a unibrow? I’m really glad you’re ok.”
I could tell she was tired because her usually well-ordered thoughts were bouncing all over the place. I smiled at her, “You need sleep, we can talk about it in the morning.” I pulled her up and she gave me another hug.
“I am glad you’re ok. Jon really scared me.” She released me from the hug and held my shoulders as she pinned me with her pale blue eyes, “If something happened to you who would help me finish the pitcher on mojito Mondays? Who would be my partner in Trivial Pursuit? Who would clean my bathroom?”
We both chuckled as I pushed her towards her room, “You did just fine cleaning your bathroom before I moved in.”
“No, I didn’t. I hadn’t cleaned it in several months before you moved in. I told everyone it was my bacteria wet-lab.” Elizabeth yawned, “Goodnight, Janie. I love you.”
“Goodnight, Elizabeth. I love you too.”
CHAPTER 7
Bing, bang, boom- I got a job.
To my surprise and, quite frankly, utter disbelief, I received a return email from Carlos Davies, the Director of Business Operations at Cypher Systems, Sunday morning followed by a rapid-fire series of events: Carlos responded to my message and requested that his secretary, also included on the email, arrange an appointment for Monday morning. His secretary, Olivia Merchant, responded Sunday afternoon requesting that I be at the office by 10AM.
Olivia also included in her email directions to the office, an informational packet on benefits, and instructions for my arrival. I immediately noted that Cypher Systems was located in the Fairbanks building, the same building as my previous job. I responded Sunday evening confirming my appointment for Monday at 10AM.
The benefits package sent by Olivia contained a salary offer for the position of ‘Senior Fiscal Project Coordinator’ which I read three times before I actually comprehended the number was real and not me misreading the placement of the decimal point in relation to the zeros. I tried to Google Cypher Systems but, other than a very slick, graphics heavy web page facade and an inquiry form for potential clients, the search results were unhelpful.
The lack of information available left me feeling pensive and unprepared for the interview. If they asked me why I was interested in the position I didn’t feel I could answer the question as I didn’t know anything about the company, other than that they provided security for the Fairbanks building and club Outrageous and the position apparently paid twice my previous annual salary.
Oh, and they hired supermodel security guards ala Quinn Sullivan.
Cypher Systems was located on the top floor of the Fairbanks building. The instructions given to me by Olivia indicated that I should check in with security on the lobby level and that I would be escorted to their offices.
It seemed one needed quite a lot of escorting experience in order to be a security guard for Cypher Systems.
My escort’s name tag defined him as “Dan” and he was shorter than me, especially as I was wearing sky blue silk stilettos. He appeared to be my age or a few years older, stocky, and thick necked with swirling tattoos just visible beneath the blue collar of his uniform. Dan gave me a plain once over as he walked me to an elevator and placed his palm against a glass screen. The screen retracted to reveal keypad. Dan then punched in a series of numbers and he said-
“You’re very big.”
I gave him a cursory smile, “Yes. I ate all my vegetables as a child.” This was my standard response when someone remarked on my size. For some reason it always irked me when people felt it necessary to draw attention to my height as though I wasn’t aware of my larger than average stature. I once responded: “Yes, and you’re very small.” but that didn’t go over very well, even though in that situation it was true.
Dan chuckled at my canned response and waved me in the elevator. I realized I’d never noticed this lift before. When we walked in I further noticed there was only one destination button. Dan was quiet the rest of the ride even though his eyes continued to move over me in unhidden appraisal and the corner of his mouth curved in a friendly, lopsided smile. I was also silent and had to half-yawn in order to pop my ears as we traveled upward.
The elevators opened to an impressive view of the city behind an all glass reception desk. The light was almost blinding; I swallowed nervously and smoothed my free hand down the hips of my beige tailored jacket and skirt as I stepped on to the landing. My other hand gripped the letter sized portfolio at my side which contained copies of my resume and letters of recommendation from college professors.
Dan didn’t leave the elevator but rather spoke from behind me, “Keira at the reception desk will take care of you.”
I turned to thank him but the doors had already closed. Straightening, I walked to the glass desk and paused before it. The woman, who I presumed to be Keira, was on a phone call.
She lifted her brown eyes to mine, raised a single finger, and said into her headset, “Just one moment, let me track him down for you.” then pressed a series of buttons on a very high-tech looking phone. The first thing I noticed about Keira was that her black hair was in such a tight bun it looked painful. It seemed to pull at the corners of her eyes and mouth, giving her the appearance of a perpetually smiling cat.
She turned a Cheshire grin on me and said, “May I assist you?”
“Uh, yes. I have an appointment with Carlos Davies.”
“Oh? An appointment? And what is your name?”
I swallowed again, my mouth was very dry, “I’m Janie Morris. I’m here for an interview.”
Keira moved her attention to an impressively large monitor on her desk and nodded, “Yes, here you are. Today is your first day- right?”
I opened my mouth and a small squeak came out before I said, “No, no- I’m just here for an interview.”
She moved her attention back to me, confusion clouding her angular features, “But, didn’t Mr. Sullivan recruit you?”
“I wasn’t- Qui- I mean, Mr. Sullivan arranged for the interview, yes-”
I was interrupted by a new voice. “Ah- you must be Janie Morris.”
I turned to my left at the words and tried to smile warmly at the approaching man but was struck momentarily speechless. With my heels on he was exactly my height and he was the definition of, what my friend Ashley liked to call, a brown sugar hottie. His dark chocolate eyes were framed with long, black lashes, his skin was warm olive, and he had a slow, easy smile bracketed by dimples. He wore a grey suit, white shirt, and silver tie.
“Yes, I’m Janie.” I half croaked as I extended my hand. He enclosed my hand in both of his and gave
it a firm, professional shake.
“I’m Carlos. I’m so glad you could start on such short notice. Come with me, I’ll get you settled in.”
“I- start?” My voice was strained and hoarse so I cleared my throat, “Um, wait. I- that is, I was under the impression that this was an interview.”
Carlos blinked his pretty lashes at me, his smile waning but not disappearing, “Oh, I see.” His eyes moved between mine, his gaze still warm, “Certainly, we can start with an interview if you wish.” He turned and motioned for me to follow him down the hall.
If I wish?
I matched his stride and tried to suppress a new flutter of uncertainty as I walked next to him, “I have extra copies of my resume if you need them.”
He softly chuckled, “No, no need. We’ve done a background check, you’re very qualified and have excellent references.”
My face warmed at the compliment I wasn’t sure I deserved. He led me past a series of offices and I noted the lack of cubicles. He paused at one office and asked me to wait a moment. I heard him ask the inhabitant to join us then we continued.
Carlos’s office was moderately sized, not huge but not small either, and seemed to be only slightly larger than the rest of the rooms we’d passed. He motioned for me to sit in one of two brown leather club chairs as he walked around his desk.
“So, Ms. Morris. Why don’t you start by telling me about yourself?” His voice was very soothing and his brown eyes sparkled as he leaned back in his chair.
As I was doing my best to give a good impression, carefully choosing my words and trying to stay on topic, another man entered. He was tall and lean; his blond hair disheveled as though he’d been running his hands through it, his grey eyes peered at me from behind fashionably black horned-rimmed glasses perched on a nose which was a little too pronounced for his thin face.
He immediately crossed to me and held out his hand, “Oh, thank God you’re here! I’m Steven, we’re going to be great friends.” He gave me a single shake then half sank, half collapsed into the empty brown club chair next to mine, “These people! There is so much to do. I spent this morning summarizing the projects for you.”
Carlos cleared his throat and gave Steven a friendly smile, “Ms. Morris is here for an interview. I don’t believe she has accepted the position yet.”
Steven looked between me and Carlos, his face betraying his inner horror, “What?!”
Carlos dipped his head, “Steven.” his voice was thick with warning.
Steven affixed his attention squarely on me, “Janie- can I call you Janie?” I nodded but he didn’t wait for me to ascent before he continued, “Janie, I need help. As Carlos explained it, you are a numbers person. You have experience managing client accounts. Your references say you are a hellva accountant. You have no criminal record. You tutor children once a week so that means you’re good with big babies. You look like a Scandinavian version of Diana Prince.” I coughed at the comparison between me and Wonder Woman’s alter-ego; but Steven continued, “And, assuming you can string three words together, you’ll be a smashing success with our business partners. I’ll be honest, Janie, they don’t like me. I’m not pretty enough to go out in public. I’m a hard worker and I’m a tax wizard but I make the clients uncomfortable. You’ll do nicely.”
“Steven, Ms. Morris was just telling me about her work experience-”
Ignoring Carlos, Steven scooted his seat closer to mine and drew my attention to an iPad on his lap, “Now, these are all the current accounts,” he trailed his finger down a column of numbers, codes which denoted account names, and I noted that the columns had no title headings, “and these are the payment terms, the filing terms, here are the estimated expenditures for this quarter and the actual for last quarter. This is the project balance for the year. Got it?”
I nodded, looking over the spreadsheet, “Why don’t you use column headings?”
“They slow me down.”
“Hm.” His response made no sense. I tried not to focus on the gargantuan size of the dollar figures but instead on scrutinizing the veracity of the calculated amounts, “Your formula is wrong here and-” I pointed to two separate boxes on the spreadsheet, “here. Also, when did this account open? The balance should be negative if the projected expenditure column is correct.”
I looked up at Steven, his thin lips were pressed together in a quivering smile. “Good girl. Test passed. I think I love you, Janie. Let’s get married and not have children.”
My eyes widened for a brief moment; I felt sure he was teasing me but, looking into his dancing grey eyes, I knew he meant it as a compliment. I returned his smile. I liked Steven.
Carlos broke the silence, “Ms. Morris, the job is yours if you’d like it.”
“Oh, please say yes.” Steven’s smile widened.
“To the proposal or the job?” I asked.
“If you have to pick one, to the job.” Steven handed the iPad to me then reached out his hand to shake mine again, “I snore and you’re too tall, we’d divorce within a year.”
I laughed, stood, and shook his hand, not minding that he’d remarked on my height. “Fine then, I accept the job.” I turned to Carlos, who was also standing at this point, “Although, I’d like to see a job description; I’d like to make sure I can actually do the job you’ve apparently hired me for.”
Carlos gave me another disarming dimpled smile which could only be described as adorable; “Of course. You get settled in with Steven and I’ll have Olivia email it to you.” He came around the desk and, like before, shook my hand with both of his, “And if you have any questions please don’t hesitate to come find me.”
~*~
It was decided that, instead of meeting at Kat’s apartment for knitting night, as it was her turn, we were all to meet for drinks then dinner at South Water Kitchen for a Janie-is-once-again-able-to-pay-income-taxes celebration. It was a Tuesday, it was the second day at my new job, and it was exactly two weeks since my worst-day-ever.
Almost immediately upon settling into our seats, Elizabeth introduced the subject of Quinn along with Friday night, monkeys, naked cage dances, Saturday morning McHotpants breakfast, and the business card that led to my new job by saying:
“You all remember McHotpants, the security guard? Well, Janie and I saw him at that new club where the naked ladies dance with the monkeys, his name is Quinn, and she went home with him after being drugged. They had breakfast together Saturday and he got her the interview for her new job.”
It was like throwing Hustler magazines at sex addicts. After a two second lull of stunned silence, everyone started talking excitedly at once. Elizabeth sent me a sweet smile over her ice water.
The entire first half hour of the evening was consumed by me regaling the ladies with the events of my weekend plus the Monday non-interview job interview. A few questions, largely relating to trivial clarifications, interrupted my story but mostly they sat and listened with a grave, almost reverential silence. Every time the waiter came by to take our order Sandra and Ashley would shoo him away by demanding wine with quiet, urgent whispers.
As I neared the end of my story I could feel the tension building in the group; I sensed that they were restless with questions but Elizabeth seemed to have an agenda and, when I finally reached my conclusion, she interjected:
“This is what I don’t understand: how did Quinn know you were up in the Canopy room? Or did he? Did he go up there to get you or did he just happen to go up there? And is that why he was suddenly like ‘you need to leave’ when he found out the Canopy room people bought us drinks? He must have known the people up there were shady. And- furthermore- since we suspect that you were slipped something, what is to be done about it?”
She glowed with an almost Sherlock Holmes-esque satisfaction and sat back in her seat while the group speculated on her questions. Undeniably, Elizabeth seemed to have given the entire encounter a great deal more thought than I.
Although I tended to obsess ab
out topics like the English vernacular, the height of the average Brazil nut tree, and international date standards, I had a habit of ignoring important details like who drugged me and how did I feel about blacking out only to wake up mostly naked in a strange apartment with seven pieces of furniture.
I shivered a little, feeling the weight of my recklessness and truly understanding how dangerous of a situation I’d been in. Likewise my stomach flipped at the thought of Quinn finding me, carrying me out the second story room, and taking me to his sister’s place all the while I was blacked out.
Maybe I wouldn’t need to be rescued, escorted, or coddled so much if I focused on actually important details rather than dreaming up an appropriate collective noun for every plural eventuality.
In the end I promised the ladies I would attempt to corner Quinn when I saw him at work, question him about the Canopy room co-op, as well as actions taken to ensure the safety of unsuspecting female guests in the future. The waiter reappeared and, thankfully, most eyes moved to their menus giving me a reprieve from the hour long investigation into my weekend.
“Have you seen him yet? In the office I mean?” Marie, who was immediately to my left, leaned toward me and fixed me with her bright blue eyes.
“Quinn? No, today was only my second day. Mostly, I just filled out paperwork, met with lawyers, and settled into my office-”
“You met with lawyers?” Fiona’s steady voice sounded from my right.
“I had to sign a non-disclosure agreement and a non-compete agreement.”
“A non-disclosure agreement?” Fiona frowned, her eyes met Marie’s for an instant then moved back to me, “Why did you need to sign that?”
“Well, basically, I’m not to disclose the nature of my work or who I work with.”
Fiona’s frown deepened, “You mean, their names? You’re not allowed to talk about your co-workers?”
I shook my head, finishing a thirsty sip of my wine, “No, no- I mean, I’m not allowed to discuss any of the clients I work with- their names, how much they pay us, that kind of thing- or what we do for them, what services we offer.”