Floating as she hung up the phone, she returned to her lukewarm meal, not even minding that the rice had gotten sticky in her absence.
The phone rang again. Maybe Teague had meant to ask her out for a second date but forgot. She skipped toward the phone.
“Hello?”
“Well, hello yourself!”
Her heart seemed to fall into her toes. “Brad.” Her voice, lilting seconds before, now sounded flat to her ears.
“Is this a bad time? I can call back.” His voice was as smooth as she would have expected from a close friend, not from a man she had rejected only that afternoon.
She resisted the temptation to put him off, which would only delay the inevitable. “No, that’s fine. Now is as good a time as any.”
Surrendering, she sat down on the couch and put her bare feet on a short stack of magazines that sat on the coffee table. She noticed she’d spilled a drop of red sweet-and-sour sauce on the knee of her gray sweatpants. At least they were old enough that she didn’t care.
Her sweatpants weren’t the only object of her indifference. How could she tell Brad no time was good for him to call? Not long ago she would have welcomed the sound of his voice. How much everything had changed!
Why couldn’t he have called on the days he originally said he would? She remembered one Saturday in particular when she’d spent the better part of the day waiting for his call. She had stayed home then made sure her cell phone was on at all times, in hopes he would try to contact her. But no call came. Now here he was, stopping by her desk in the afternoon and calling again that night.
She listened as he flirted and tried to cajole her into giving him another chance. If he had realized how much a call from him would have meant to her in the past—but knowing him it might not have mattered anyway. He wouldn’t have been reduced, though, to nearly begging her to go out with him now.
She knew what had changed his attitude toward her. Seeing her with Teague. Teague was a handsome man, no doubt about it. Brad saw him as a rival, competition to be squelched.
“Are you sure you can’t put aside your other commitments and spend an hour or two with me?”
“Sorry, no.”
“You know,” he persisted, “we can sneak out for a long lunch on Friday. I can put in a word with your boss. She won’t mind. I can tell her we’re discussing business. I know a great little place that hardly anybody else has discovered yet. They have the best Italian food you ever put in your mouth. I know you’d like it.”
“Maybe I would enjoy eating there sometime, but I can’t,” she insisted, twisting the beige phone cord. “And anyway, my boss would never believe you and I have any business to discuss—unless you were trying to hire me to work in your division. And I know she wouldn’t excuse me for a long lunch just so she would lose me, as immodest as I know that sounds.”
“I know you’re a good worker,” he said. “You’ve already told me more than once. But hiring you away, now that sounds like a good idea.”
The thought of working in Brad’s division made her stomach lurch. “Never mind that. I have no interest in working for your division. I like where I am. Thanks anyway.”
“Oh, all right. So you want to play hard to get. I understand.”
“No, you don’t,” she said. “I’m not playing games. I mean what I say.”
“I’ll take a no for now if you insist,” he said, “but you don’t need to worry. I’ll still be around.”
“Is that so? Well, don’t hold your breath. I’m busy and not just with work.” She took in a breath and prepared to drop what she hoped would be the verbal equivalent of a stop sign. “Teague and I are going on a ski trip in a couple of weeks.”
“Oh.” His voice sounded as deflated as a flat tire. “A ski trip? Where to?”
“Oh, up in the mountains.”
“Is that so? I never would have guessed. I thought you would be skiing at Virginia Beach.”
“Cute.” She grimaced even though Brad wouldn’t see her. His sarcasm was becoming annoying.
“What mountains?” he pressed.
“I’m not sure exactly where.” She decided not to add that they’d be with a church youth group. If Brad wanted to think the trip was something romantic, then that was his own fault. Besides, she had to discourage him any way she could. “I’ve got to run. Good-bye.” She hung up the phone and hoped he wouldn’t call back anytime soon.
❧
Teague stared at the calendar on the wall of his work cubicle. Snow-covered mountains reminded him of the weekend he anticipated more than any other ski trip in recent memory. The workdays that used to pass so rapidly now seemed to move as slowly as standing water.
No matter how much Teague tried to concentrate, the equations written on his paper didn’t coordinate. He hadn’t made much progress on his work. In fact he hadn’t made much progress on anything. Not since that night with Kassia. When he wasn’t thinking about the ski weekend, his date with her lingered on his mind, regardless of what he was doing. She was mysterious, no doubt. She seemed to be standing on the fence, wobbling with such uncertainty that she could tip off and land on either side. Revelation 3:16 shot through his brain: “So, because you are lukewarm—neither hot nor cold—I am about to spit you out of my mouth.”
Despite his eagerness to go, he was not without anxiety. What would she be like on a ski trip with a bunch of rambunctious youth? While many of them were strong in the faith, others weren’t. Every teen in his youth group needed to be around adults who would set a Christian example. And they all had sharp radar for spotting hypocrisy. He didn’t expect Kassia to react negatively to their beliefs since he had warned her she would be among church people, and her background meant she would have an idea what type of behavior would be expected of her.
If anything, he wondered if she might try to make them believe she was enthusiastic about the Christian faith. But if they sensed she was pretending to be a better Christian than she was, they would chew her up and spit her out. As shaky as she seemed, Teague knew Kassia didn’t need any confrontations or negative experiences during the trip.
His conflicting thoughts left him confused.
Lord, I pray I haven’t made a mistake in inviting Kassia on the ski trip. I pray I haven’t made a mistake in associating with her at all. Lord, show me the way concerning this woman.
At that moment his boss tapped him on the shoulder. “Teague.”
He jumped an inch out of his seat.
“Sorry,” Will apologized. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
Teague regained his composure. “No problem. I was just deep in thought.”
Will nodded. “If you can spare a minute, I need to see you in my office.”
Will’s expressionless face indicated the news couldn’t be good. Maybe he was going to give Teague an assignment he didn’t want. Teague could think of at least one dreaded task. He hoped Will didn’t want him to help the new intern get the bugs out of a calendar and address book program that had proven to be a pill from the moment they started writing it.
Or maybe Will wanted to caution Teague about his lack of output for the day. If so, the warning would be justified. He rose from his seat and followed Will to his office. On the way, he thought about what he would say in his defense.
Moments later, shutting the door to Will’s office behind him, Teague was about to apologize when his boss spoke.
“Grab a chair,” he offered as he took his own seat behind the modest yet oversized desk. “Although this will take only a moment.”
Teague complied, situating himself in one of the two stiff wooden chairs in front of Will’s desk.
Will leaned back in his padded gray executive chair and clasped his hands as if the gesture would help him form his next sentence. “You know how much I value your work here, Teague.”
“I think so.” Good. The news couldn’t be so awful then. Maybe he was planning to let some of the other people in the company go and needed Teague’s help with
the transition. He decided now was a good time for a compliment. “I know I value the chance to work for such an exciting new company.”
His boss swallowed and looked down at his desk. “Exciting. New. Yes, those adjectives apply to us. Which can be both good and bad. For one, I know I haven’t been able to pay you the salary someone with your talent deserves.”
Teague wished he could figure out if Will was about to offer him a bonus or raise or promotion. Yet his terse expression and unwillingness to look him in the eyes indicated he had anything but good news. Maybe he needed reassurance Teague wasn’t looking elsewhere for a better-paying job.
He decided to offer that assurance. “I might have landed a job at a more established place, but this company is a good thing. I like being able to bring my concerns directly to you, and I also appreciate that a smaller company can implement fewer rules and be more nimble than many larger firms. As I told you the day I accepted this job, I’m willing to take a little less in exchange for the opportunity to work here. In fact, I imagine your ears were burning the other night.”
Will looked at him with interest. “Oh?”
“I was bragging about what a great boss you are and that you’re letting me develop a Christian game. I think my date was impressed.” Teague nodded and grinned. “So if you’re wondering if I’ve changed my mind, I promise you I haven’t.”
“Oh.” Will cleared his throat. “Thanks for the praise.”
Teague became conscious of his breathing and the stillness that had entered the office without warning. From just outside the door, soft rock music was playing on a radio station that specialized in providing workplace tunes during the day. Teague tapped his foot to the beat, more as a nervous response than enjoyment. He studied his boss’s expression. Why was disappointment written on Will’s face? Teague felt his body tense.
“I’d like to say that’s great,” Will continued, “but in this case I wish you did have job offers from other companies.”
“You—you do?” Teague’s stomach felt as though he were on a carnival ride right after eating a bag of popcorn and a funnel cake and slurping down a tall glass of soda. Unwilling to think through what his boss was trying to say, Teague remained silent and waited for him to spell out what he meant.
Will cleared his throat again and crossed his arms. “I think you are aware the Glasgow contract has always been iffy for us.”
That was Teague’s project. “Uh, I’m afraid so. You’ve been honest with me about that, and I appreciate it.”
“They were wavering, and no matter how much I tried, I couldn’t get the CEO behind us a hundred percent,” Will said.
“But I thought the VP was happy with my work,” Teague pointed out.
“He is. That’s why they’re paying us for what you’ve already done.”
What he’d already done?
“Unfortunately,” Will continued, “they have decided to cut the number of software titles they’ll be releasing next year, so they terminated our contract.”
“Cut the number of titles?” Teague repeated. “How did that happen?”
“They couldn’t find adequate funds in their advertising budget to support it,” Will explained. “You’ll have to admit, a Christian title was a long shot for them.”
“But I thought we had some support in marketing.”
“We did, until they crunched the final numbers and they didn’t add up the way they wanted them to. They decided to go with another company’s idea instead.” Will set his elbows on his desk and leaned toward Teague. “If you want my opinion, I think they decided they could generate more revenue with a street crime game.”
Teague groaned. “I didn’t go into this field to write games with violence and smut.”
“And I wouldn’t ask you to.”
Teague had a thought. “But even if they can’t use the games for personal computers, I thought they had plans to release a new game console. Can’t they use it for that? Surely the market is broader there.”
“I’m afraid not.” Will shook his head. “Their marketing department didn’t like the numbers their accountants came up with for the game console system either, so they decided to nix that, too.”
“Looks like someone else will be getting bad news soon, too, then. That doesn’t make me feel any better.”
“Me either. Take a look at this. You’ll be pleased with what they have to say about you.” Will picked up a business letter printed on thick gray rag paper from the top of his desk and handed it to Teague.
He read it over, although the meaning of the letter barely registered in his mind. The letter was signed by his only ally at the company, the vice president, who had used the adjectives “imaginative,” “character-building,” “highly creative” and “stunning graphics” to describe the game Teague was developing. The praise was small comfort. How could he compliment Teague’s work so highly in the first paragraph, only to ax the program in the second?
“I’m really sorry,” was all Teague could say as he returned the letter to Will. “I was so sure that if I did my job well we could hold on to their business.”
“Don’t question yourself for a moment. The numbers were what made their decision for them. If you want to know my opinion, I’m likely to think they wouldn’t have stayed with us this long if not for you and your work.”
Teague sighed but mentally rolled up his sleeves in anticipation of a new course of action. “So do you want me to scrap this program or rework it?”
Will shook his head as he stared at the letter in his hands. “Neither.”
“Neither?” The answer wasn’t appealing. Teague knew he didn’t want to get stuck with a dog of a contract. He had to speak up then and there to stake out a claim on another project. He ran down a mental list of the company’s contracts. “I can help Justin with the new game he’s developing if you like.”
“Thanks, but he’s got that under control.”
“The BoomTown project then.”
Will shook his head. “That’s too close to a wrap for you to jump in now.”
Teague took in a breath then swallowed. “I can help debug the calendar.”
“I have Mary on that one.”
A sense of desperation filled Teague. If he couldn’t help on any of those projects, then what? He looked to his supervisor for a clue.
Will shook his head. “Believe me, I’ve tried to figure out where to plug you in here now that this contract has gone by the wayside, but I’ve got everyone working at optimum level now. If I were confident we’d be getting another new contract suited to your skills soon, I’d float you for a while. But because we’re such a small company, I can’t afford to keep you here indefinitely while we wait for the next contract.”
Teague felt his chest tighten in fear. “You—you have no idea when that might happen?”
“I asked sales. Could be months.” Frowning, he tossed the letter onto his desk. “I hate this about owning my own business. If I went public, I’d have more money to float me in situations like this, but my hands are tied.”
“I understand.” Teague wished he didn’t. He wished he had some recourse, but he didn’t see one. Even if he insisted on staying, how could he compel his boss to pay him money he didn’t have? He supposed if the situation were reversed, Teague would be forced to make the same decision.
“I’m sorry,” Will said.
“I know. And I understand,” Teague assured him. “I’ll go pack up my desk.”
“No, don’t do that yet. Stay until Friday so you can tie up the loose ends to close out the contract. I can pay you two weeks’ salary as severance.”
Two weeks’ salary. Not much. “Thanks.”
“I wish I could be more generous, and I wish it didn’t have to be this way. If I could find a way to keep you, I would,” Will told him. “Just know that once you start looking for a new job, send your prospective employers to me. I’ll give you a glowing reference.”
“I appreciate that.” Teague tr
ied not to slump his shoulders as he left the office. He knew the current economy meant that most people could expect to go from job to job in a heartbeat. He just didn’t think he’d be laid off if he worked hard enough and showed his company unflagging dedication.
As he made his way back to his desk, Teague avoided making eye contact with any of his coworkers. He couldn’t face them with the news. Not yet. He couldn’t face anyone. He had no idea what he would do next.
❧
That night Teague agonized over his job loss. Still too depressed to talk to anyone, he opted to stay home alone and sit in front of his computer. Scanning the Internet for job leads made him feel as though he were making an effort to improve his situation. With only two weeks’ severance pay, finances were too tight to contemplate. He didn’t want to think about how he would meet the next month’s bills.
Discouraged, he thought about picking up the phone to call his father for a few encouraging words but thought better of it. His parents had supported him emotionally and financially as much as they could through school, and the last thing he wanted to do was ask for more money now. He ran down his list of financial obligations: rent, phone, food, utilities, gasoline, student loans, and car payment. Not much fluff. He had to find a new job soon.
He rummaged through the stack of papers on his small particleboard desk to see if he’d missed anything. The notice for the ski trip was near the top. Maybe he should cancel it. He’d get a few dollars back, and he also wouldn’t have to worry about Kassia.
He kept reading. Too bad the deadline had passed for him to get either his or Kassia’s deposits back. He sighed and searched for the most optimistic way to view his situation. Maybe skiing would get his mind off his troubles. Yes, that was it. That was the only way to look at his otherwise grim situation. Too bad the thought did little to cheer him.
A picture of Kassia popped into his head. The idea of being with her was still appealing, though. Maybe he wasn’t sorry the deadline had passed.
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