by Gillian Zane
The guy who strode in my direction was attractive in a polished, country club type of way. His hair was perfect, his suit was perfect. Even his teeth were perfectly capped. He smiled and I had to admit, his dentist had done a good job.
“Chris Lapret,” he greeted and held his hand out. I stood to take it.
“Cassidy Hail,” I responded. He was taller than me by almost half a foot, which was taller than most men. He was also fit, you could tell by the play of material and how his suit fell. With the casual way he held himself and the underlying confidence he exuded, he was probably the office heart-throb and loved every minute of it.
“Pretty name for a pretty girl,” he said flirtatiously. I’m sure he broke a ton of hearts.
“Stop flirting with my new assistant, Lapret.” Phillip exited his office and grabbed his jacket. “If anyone’s going to score, it’s going to be me.” He looked at me and winked and I glanced embarrassingly at Chris who gave me a sympathetic grimace.
“Speaking of scoring, let’s go bag us a new client.” He patted Chris on his shoulder and led him down the hall, calling, “I’m out for the day, Ingrid.”
And so went my week. By Wednesday, Phillip had stopped calling me Ingrid, but his flirtations increased. He hadn’t scored his client, and I hadn’t sent another bouquet of flowers so he was feeling ineffective by Friday. His aura pulsed a light grey, with pulses of red and black in different places. He was a mess on the inside, but only showed his frustration through a few angry phone calls to clients.
I was feeling pretty ineffective too, since I hadn’t found anything that even hinted at theft or embezzlement by Phillip. I sighed and stood. Phillip had been going through manuals and catalogs to help put together his next presentation. It was my job to pick up after his meetings.
“Let me help you with that,” he said from behind me. I hadn’t realized he had come back from his lunch meeting. I was up on tip toes trying to put the heavy manuals back on his towering book shelf.
His body pressed against my side as he took the manual from my hand and placed it on the shelf. He let his eyes trail down my shirt, his position perfect for a view into the valley of my cleavage. The man had no qualms about inter-office flirtation.
“Have I told you how amazing you’ve been this week?” he asked as he shelved the next manual.
“No sir, but thank you, sir,” I said primly.
“Phillip, call me Phillip or Phil, your choice.”
“Thank you, Phillip,” I said, the picture of subservience. I wasn’t here to destroy you, no, not me.
“I think when Ingrid comes back I’ll have her moved to the bullpen. It’ll be a promotion for her, she deserves it. You’d like a permanent job with me, Cassidy, right?”
“Oh, yes, sir, I mean, Phillip, I would love that,” I said with as much fake enthusiasm as I could muster. My acting must have been good because he leered at me and waggled his brows. He was almost comical in his actions. I tried not to laugh. It took great effort.
“Great, I look forward to working with you, then.” He grinned in a very predatory way, as suggestive as he could possibly be and I hurried off to my desk. I was afraid he would touch me or take his flirtation further and I didn’t know how I would handle it. Should I let him? Would that get me further, give me more access to end this case? I didn’t want to do that. Not like my last case, with Bishop. But it could help end this case. Was I that kind of person? The kind of girl who used sex to get what she wanted. I didn’t think so. I didn’t want to use sex to end every case I was on.
I had never been a prude, or at least I didn’t think I was. From what I remembered of my life, my morals weren’t exactly on the straight and narrow. Sex wasn’t some sacred gift to be all cherished and shit. I liked sex. But, I didn’t like germs…and well, screwing someone was the ultimate in germ exchange. So, I had made sure I was aware of their backgrounds before I hopped into bed with them. I guess that argument was out the window now. I couldn’t catch anything now that I was dead. Didn’t have that to worry about that sort of thing. No STDs, no unwanted pregnancies for this girl. No genital warts! A huge bonus in my book. Not that I had much contact with people that might have genital warts, but the thought of them always gave me the heebie-jeebies just thinking about them. I mean, who wants that?
I could technically be a total slut without any consequences. But was that the right thing to do? If we were two consenting adults, what was the harm? You couldn’t build up negative energy from two willing people engaging in something that made them feel good, could you? The negative energy would build up if one of the people in the relationship was lying to the other, or was taking advantage of them, forcing them or coercing them. Like, a superior making their assistant feel like they needed to sleep with them to keep their job. Or a Karma operative seducing her case so she could trick him into letting something slip. I had to stop over-thinking things. I was going to give myself a complex.
When Monday reared its ugly head, I was no closer to making a decision as to how to go about closing the case. I admitted to myself that Phillip was an attractive man in outward appearances, but I was not attracted to him. His negative energy crawled all over him. I was afraid to touch him in case that shit was contagious. Add in his lecherous comments and unabashed flirtation and I had placed him in the nasty category. No, I didn’t want to use sex to get what I wanted with him. I had done that with Bishop to force a confrontation. At least I had been kind of attracted to Bishop. I was not going to do it with this case.
No seduction. I made up my mind with a nod of my head. I had to find another way.
I was making a coffee for myself and Phillip at the company coffee bar and I glanced over my shoulder self-consciously. Had to cut back on those physical reactions to things in my head. No one was there, so I went about making the perfect latte for Phillip. He wouldn’t even drink it. I think he just liked me serving him. The coffee bar was on the 2nd floor and was a fancy set-up equipped with an espresso machine and a variety of flavors. I pumped in about five scoops of caramel into mine and took a sip, relishing the sweet flavor of the hot liquid. Before I died I had liked to drink my coffee with only a hint of sugar and a little bit of milk, preferring the taste of the coffee. Now, black coffee would taste like hot water. I missed the bitter flavor.
“Penny for your thoughts.” Chris came up behind me and touched me on the shoulder. His hand on me was supposed to be casual, but also a slight reminder he wanted to touch me and would like to touch me more. I knew all of this the moment he laid his hand on me. I was getting better at reading the living.
“Oh, no thoughts of any worth.” I covered up my nervousness with a laugh and turned to face him as I took my second sip of coffee. Even though I couldn’t taste it as well as I used to, the hot liquid seeped into me and energized.
“Oh c’mon, I don’t believe that. Care to share?” he prodded.
“Just thinking about the job,” I said.
“How do you like working for Phillip?” he asked and the way he worded it left it open for me to dish. Was he fishing for something to bring back to Phillip, or for a scoop? Chris had an open air to him. He cultivated that friendly boy-next-door look. His aura gave him away as ambitious and driven, willing to do almost anything to move ahead. He hadn’t crossed any lines but there was a yet there, waiting in the wings.
“I like him,” I lied. “He’s a little too friendly sometimes, but I’ve had worse bosses.” I referenced the comment that had embarrassed the both of us last week.
“Yeah, he’s got that old school, non-P.C. mentality that’s going to get him in trouble one day. Girls like you will blow it off, but one day he’s going to say the wrong thing to the wrong girl.”
“Oh, he’s harmless,” I laughed, but Chris didn’t join in my mirth.
“Use your head, Cassidy,” Chris said seriously. He leaned in and continued in a whisper, “If he makes you feel uncomfortable, let me know. You can go to HR. They do take these things seriously
.”
“Yes, of course, thanks, Chris,” I said, trying to portray a naive but businesslike reaction. I was stunned he had told me this. Was this the guy who had joked and carried on with Phillip, pretending to be his lackey? What was the game? Was he really concerned with me, or trying to see if I would turn-over on his superior? He gave nothing away. Maybe he just wanted to see Phillip go down, since more room at the top meant he could move up. I was betting on that.
“Who’s this?” a familiar voice said from behind me and I froze. The voice brought back a wash of memories and feelings. Happiness, fun, fear, sadness, joy.
I turned around slowly to face my past.
“C’mon, Cassandra, try it, you’ll like it,” Lauren tittered. We had drunk way too much and were now at her house riding out the tipsy.
“No way, Lauren.” I pushed it away from me. She took a big bite and moaned in pleasure.
“What kind of person doesn’t like peanut butter? No normal human, that’s for sure.” She dug a spoon into the jar and scooped out a huge helping and shoved it in her mouth, licking the spoon when she was done.
“That’s gross! It smells gross.” I slid off the counter, unsteady on my feet. My phone beeped and I pulled it out of my jeans pocket.
“Who’s texting you at this hour?” she asked being nosey.
“Pete,” I responded as I texted him back.
“What does he want?”
“Nothing.” I moved away from her, but she followed me. She was suddenly tense. I had been feeling that more and more when we were together. There was something going on between her and Pete and I didn’t know what it was. I didn’t like it. Lauren, Pete and I had been close friends since high school. A threesome of perfect proportions. When I had finally had enough of the “Top Pop,” group of popular girls I had been a part of for my freshman and sophomore years, I had hooked up with Lauren and Pete and hadn’t looked back. The best friends a girl could ever have. But, now that we had all finally made it through college and were starting our careers, something was wrong. Something was off.
“What does he want? It’s so late?” she asked, trying to be casual, but the stress could be heard in her voice.
“He wants me to come over.”
“For what?” she said a little too shrill. “What would he want you to do at two in the morning?” She must have seen the look in my eye because she suddenly wasn’t smiling anymore.
“Lauren.” Her name popped out of my mouth, heavy on my tongue. I could still smell the peanut butter and see the hurt look on her face when she realized… What had she realized?
“Do I know you?” Her eyes were on me, assessing me. They weren’t friendly.
“Oh, no,” I recovered quickly. “I’m the new girl. But, um, the HR lady was pointing out everyone and I was trying to remember names. It’s a really big company and hard to get people’s names right, but I thought I remembered your name - and I guess I did. Hi, I’m Cassidy. I work as Phillip’s EA.” I stuck out my hand, pretending I was flustered. She didn’t take it until Chris looked at her funny, then she grabbed my hand, squeezed it lightly, then dropped it as if it gave her the creeps.
“New girl. But you know Chris already?” she asked with venom in her voice. Her tone hinted that I got around. I guess I did.
“He visits Phillip a lot,” I said with a smile. This wasn’t the Lauren I remembered. Lauren was bubbly and friendly. Lauren was my best friend. She hadn't been bitchy to strangers. I didn't think so anyway. Her being here couldn’t be a coincidence.
“Chris, are we still on for tonight?” She dismissed me and focused all her attention on Chris who started chatting about some television show they were both into. It was some big premiere a bunch of the staff would get together and watch. I stood there for a few moments and then realized they weren’t going to include me, so I slinked off.
“Nadine’s bringing those new pastries from Bukav’s that everyone’s raving about,” she drawled as I left the break room. Her laugh that followed was loud and fake and not meant for Chris. I didn’t know this Lauren.
Office politics were weird. It was like high school again. I was remembering bits and pieces of my time as a police officer and they weren’t anything like this. Chris was the only one who would stop and say hello to me, and that was most likely because he was attracted to me. I was having fun with my wardrobe choices, Googling sexy office chic and copying the looks, but standing out at work because of sexy looks might not be the best thing for office cliques. Especially with the women.
I went back to my desk and sat down with a sigh. This corporate lifestyle was a whole other world.
The phone rang, it flashed that it was Phillip.
“Mr. Nixon’s office,” I said even though we had caller ID and he knew we had caller ID.
“Cassidy, I’m meeting with a client. Put me on hold and go to my computer. I need a file there that’s not on the server.”
Bing and O.
I went to his computer and picked up the phone, pressing the line where he waited on hold.
“My password is jayhot,” he said. “Login and look in the documents folder, I keep everything there.”
I did as I was told, found the file and emailed it to him. Then I sat at his desk and had to really hold back from doing a happy chair dance. I couldn’t believe my luck. I took a deep breath and began to poke around in his files. He had an encrypted peripheral hard drive. It had password protection from what I could tell and when I used the same jayhot login it worked. It was full of spreadsheets and word documents.
“Hello hotness,” I whispered. I went back to my desk, grabbed a flash drive and initiated the hard drive to replicate to my flash drive. This could be the mother lode. It wasn’t a lot of information, mostly small word documents and spreadsheets, so it copied quickly. I shut the computer down and went back to work, itching to look at the files, but knowing I couldn’t do it here. I would look at the files when I got home. This wasn’t the place or time. I would probably need help figuring out what was what, since I didn’t have a lot of business experience. Most companies have to do a forensic audit with specially hired consultants to figure out embezzlement cases. I had a head for numbers, but I wasn’t that good. Hopefully I could get this ball rolling when I got home and uploaded to our Afterlife computers.
By lunch Phillip still wasn’t back from his client meeting. I was jittery, the flash drive heavy and incriminating in my purse. I wanted to get it off site as soon as possible. Just in case something happened. I was being paranoid. I knew it was impossible that I would be caught, but it would help me relax if I got it back to my complex. I had an access point close to work. I only had to walk a few blocks and get this tucked away safely so I could analyze it later.
At my lunch break, I grabbed my purse and made a beeline for the elevators. I had to move fast since it took me ten minutes to get out of the building. The elevators were clogged at noon, the lunchtime mass exodus in full swing. I took the stairs to make it quicker. I slipped off my heels and trotted down the steps in my bare feet. When I got to the bottom landing I slipped my heels back on and hurried through the lobby. I was intent on my task, but a prickling feeling traveled across my skin. Something was here. My head shot up. What did that mean? Something?
I scanned the lobby for whatever had my nerves on edge. I found him instantly. He was pacing near the comfortable chairs that packed the waiting area.
Drake Greco.
As if he had heard his name, he stopped his pacing and our eyes met across the lobby. I skidded to a halt, frozen by his attention. My ankle twisted and I cried out. When I tried to place it on the ground again, it gave a twinge as if it wouldn’t hold. I concentrated on healing it. Our eyes never left each other’s, his now flavored with concern. He finally broke our stare, but it was only so he could check out the rest of me. That dark perusal traveled down the sleek lines of my too short, lacy dress and then back to my face as he studied me intently. His face went from concerned to apprec
iative.
He walked toward me. My instincts screamed run. My insides screamed …want.
My instincts won. I angled away from him, placing a foot in the opposite direction, but my ankle wasn’t one hundred percent. I wobbled as I turned and it slowed me down enough to give him enough time to get in front of me. But, really it hadn’t. So fast. He had been at least ten yards away from me and now his arm was on my elbow as if he knew that I wanted to run. How had he made it across the lobby so fast? The building was huge. He would have had to cover the floor in the blink of an eye. Again the question of what he could possibly be flittered through my mind.
“Ms. Hail.” My name rolled off his tongue and lodged in my chest, sending warm shivers down my body. Whether it was from fear or lust, I wasn’t quite sure and chided myself for my masochism.
“Why can’t you call me Cassidy?” I asked. I kept my voice low and pleading. Playing the meek little girl. Trust me. I’m not important.
“Professionalism,” he said in a clipped tone.
“Lacking,” I replied, forgetting I was supposed to be meek with a jut of my chin. Oops. He smiled. It was a big shit-eating grin and I felt my own tug at the corners of my mouth. Were we actually sharing a joke?
“You work here?”
“Only for a week, the temp agency sent me. You know, because the bartender thing didn’t work out.” I smiled, still embarrassed about that. I hadn’t ever been fired before. From what I could remember, that is.
“Drake!” Lauren’s voice echoed through the lobby, her excitement evident in her call.
It made sense that this was who he was here to see. My whole body went rigid and I tried to show no reaction since Drake’s eyes never left my face. If I had supposedly been friends with Cassandra, then I would know Lauren. He searched me for a reaction.