Kill the Competition

by Stephanie Bond

  “In this case,” Carole said, “I agree with you. How can we help Rosemary if we don’t know what kind of trouble she’s in?”

  Belinda squinted. “But why do you assume she’s in trouble?”

  “Because,” Carole said, “if it were something good, she’d share it with us.”

  “That’s how women are,” Libby added, then she angled her head. “You don’t like to take chances, do you, Belinda?”

  She bristled. “I moved to Atlanta.”

  “On people, I mean. You don’t like to take chances on people.”

  “Vince—”

  “Vince broke your heart,” Libby argued. “But that doesn’t have anything to do with not having female friends in your life.”

  Belinda concentrated on the road through the furious blades of the wipers and kept her tone light. “I’ve always been a loner.”

  “I think you’re afraid that if you stick your nose into Rosemary’s business, someone will stick their nose into your business.”

  Belinda took a deep breath to stem the ridiculous tears that pressed at the backs of her eyes. “I think you’re worried about your evaluation, and you’re lashing out at me.”

  “She’s right, Libby,” Carole said. “Let Belinda drive.”

  “People who care about each other go out on a limb,” Libby said. “Rosemary’s gone out on a limb for us plenty of times. If she’s in trouble, I want to be there for her.”

  Belinda met Carole’s glance in the rearview mirror.

  “I want to be there for her, too, Belinda.”

  Belinda looked back to the brake lights of the car in front of her. The truth was, she didn’t want to get involved, especially with her own life still in restoration. Yet wasn’t that Libby’s point—that to be a friend, sometimes things got messy? And hadn’t she promised herself that she would take chances, break a few of her self-imposed rules?

  “Okay,” she agreed. “But snooping makes me very uncomfortable.”

  Libby’s smile was triumphant as she lifted her travel coffee mug. “We know.”

  Feeling absurdly as if she’d just passed some kind of initiation, Belinda turned her attention back to the road. Not that keeping her foot on the brake took much focus. They were going to be so late for work—as well as every OTP person who worked ITP. Margo would be supremely annoyed. She suddenly realized the women were whispering.

  “Show her,” Carole said. “We won’t have time when we get to the office.”

  Belinda raised an eyebrow. “Show me what?”

  Libby smiled. “Carole and I bought you something.” Libby reached into a bag at her feet. “Belinda, meet your new best friend.”

  Belinda stared at the pink beribboned item Libby held up. “That’s the biggest curling iron I’ve ever seen.”

  Libby laughed. “It’s not a curling iron.”

  Belinda stared at the twenty-inch black wand. “That can not be a vibrator.”

  The two women looked at each other and fell out laughing. “No,” Libby gasped. “It’s your very own stun baton.”

  Belinda hit the brake a little too hard. “Stun baton? I…wow.”

  “To leave under your car seat,” Libby said. “Five hundred thousand volts.” She hit a button, and a crackling noise filled the air. “Three seconds on the end of this baby, and a man will be rehabilitated.”

  “Wow,” Belinda repeated. “Is it, um, legal?”

  “Good gravy, yes. You’re in the South, girl. We’d arm ourselves with an alligator if we could get him in a holster.”

  “Ah. Right.”

  “We figured it was the least we could do for asking you to drive so much right off the bat,” Libby said.

  “Thanks. You. All.” She started nodding and couldn’t seem to stop.

  “Rosemary will be jealous,” Carole said, bouncing in her seat.

  “Heck, I’m jealous of this Big Daddy,” Libby said, sending another crackling jolt into the air, just for fun, Belinda assumed.

  She, on the other hand, thought Big Daddy was downright terrifying, and she breathed much easier when Libby put him away. But it was the thought that counted, and she was touched that the girls were concerned for her safety. As soon as she received her raise, she planned to reinstate the service to her cellular phone.

  After her account recovered from buying the evil couch. And after she bought a new television.

  Which reminded her. “Hey, did anyone watch The Single Files last night?”

  “Just the last half,” Libby said. “It was a rerun, wasn’t it?”

  “Yeah, but one of the best episodes,” Carole said. “Where Jill first met the locksmith.”

  “I love reruns,” Belinda said.

  Libby frowned. “I don’t like reruns because I feel like I’m being manipulated into investing time in something that’s long gone.”

  Belinda pursed her mouth. Something to consider.

  “There’s got to be a DO or a DON’T in there somewhere for our book,” Carole said, then snapped her fingers. “I almost forgot to tell you—Ricky called me last night, and you’ll never guess what he said.”

  Libby smirked. “If I guess, can I call myself a psychic and charge people for making outrageous predictions? Hey, maybe that can be my part-time job.”

  “Well, smarty-pants, it just so happens that he said he had a vision of my name on the front of a book.”

  That stopped Libby for a few seconds, then she scoffed. “You told him we were working on a book.”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  Libby narrowed her eyes, as if she wanted to believe but couldn’t bring herself. “That guy is ripping you off. Call-block him, and you wouldn’t have to marry for money.”

  “But I trust Ricky,” Carole said. “I believe he really has special powers.”

  “Girl, he’s probably calling you from the basement of his parents’ home.”

  “There’s more.”

  “He’s an alien?”

  “No,” Carole said, and the odd tone of her voice made Belinda look up.

  “He said…that something bad was going to happen to someone I’m close to.”

  Libby made a disgusted noise in her throat. “Now that’s simply going too far. The man ought to be arrested.” She looked at Belinda. “Why don’t you put Lieutenant Goodbody on his tail?”

  Belinda opened her mouth to protest, then realized there was nothing to protest—Libby was kidding. And Wade Alexander did have a good body.

  Carole made a distressing noise. “Don’t you see, Libby? I’m afraid Ricky’s talking about Rosemary.”

  Libby’s mouth tightened. “Enough about the psychic, okay? I’m worried about Rosemary, too, but not because Ricky announces that something bad is going to happen to someone close to you. Don’t you see that his so-called prediction could apply to any person, any day of their life?”

  Belinda’s heart went out to the young woman who wanted so badly to believe in the ability to foretell the future. Lately, she could relate to that sentiment—it would be nice to know what was around the corner so that one could adequately prepare. Of course, if someone had told her that Vince would walk out on their wedding day, she wouldn’t have believed them.

  She merged onto I-85 at a roaring eleven miles per hour, and her stomach dipped at the gray sea of cars stretching in front of her. Without helicopters, the Department of Transportation and news stations had to rely on soggy cameras strategically mounted along the interstates and calls from drivers en route for traffic updates. Electronic marquees mounted above the interstates displayed delay information, although even those signs were difficult to read in the deluge.

  “Oh, well, I’m in no hurry to get to work today anyway,” Libby said.

  “Me neither,” Carole said. “Margo’s had all weekend to work herself into a lather.” Then she shot Belinda an apologetic look. “Sorry. I know you don’t like to talk about Margo. I’m just nervous, I guess.”

  “I’m a little nervous myself,” Belinda admitt
ed.

  “It’s always the same,” Libby said, sweeping her hand as if she were directing a scene. “She starts out being nice as pie.”

  “How are you?” Carole mimicked. “Would you like a cup of coffee?”

  “And then she goes for the jugular,” Libby said. “Now then, let’s talk about your status…”

  “…here at Archer,” Margo said, her black-cherry-stained lips pulling back into a tight smile.

  Belinda nodded, her stomach tangled. Margo had seemed satisfied with the page of last-minute responses to the Payton financials. But she’d seen Margo’s personality swings. Despite their “agreement,” would Margo turn on her again?

  “This performance evaluation is a formality,” Margo said, then flashed a full-fledged smile. “The contracts for the Payton acquisition are signed and ready to be mailed. You held up your end of our agreement, so I’ll hold up mine.”

  Belinda waited.

  “We’ll make the announcement about the CFO position when I return from vacation. Until then, Juneau and I would appreciate it if you didn’t say anything to anyone.”

  Pleasure bubbled in Belinda’s chest. “Of course. Thank you.” She rose and extended her hand.

  Margo suddenly frowned and tapped a finger against her lips. “Which reminds me, with everything going on, I haven’t given Brita my itinerary.” She scribbled a few words on the orange From Margo notepad on her desk.

  Belinda dropped her unshook hand and brushed imaginary lint from her skirt. “When are you leaving?”

  Margo didn’t look up. “Tonight. I’ll be back in the office two weeks from today. I’ll ask Brita to send any emergencies your way.”

  “Okay.”

  “Oh, and Belinda, since this is a performance evaluation, I would like to pass along one piece of constructive criticism.”

  Belinda held her breath—she didn’t own any pink clothing, so it had to be something else.

  “Your hair is too trendy.” Margo waved her hand. “It’s too cutesy.”

  A slow burn started in Belinda’s stomach. Many people had told her how nice it looked. Was Margo threatened? “I just had it cut. I’m still experimenting.”

  Margo made a disapproving noise, still writing on the papers in front of her. “And lose the friends.”

  Belinda’s neck tingled. “We’ve had this discussion before.”

  Margo finally looked up. “I know, and I’d hoped you would listen. Consorting with those women isn’t good for your professional reputation.”

  “Consorting? We’re carpooling.”

  “May I be frank?”

  “Of course.”

  Margo sighed. “Rosemary Burchett has…mental problems. And Libby Janes was accused by a former coworker of stealing money. And that mail girl who gets her kicks from refugees is on administrative probation for opening confidential correspondence.”

  Belinda exhaled. “I…didn’t know.”

  Margo looked back down to her paperwork. “That’s why I’m telling you. Don’t let them drag you down.”

  Belinda’s brain resisted the urge to believe her boss’s accusations, at the same time conceding their reasonableness. Rosemary could be…intense. And although Libby didn’t seem like the type to steal, a person who was financially strapped could resort to desperate measures. And Carole…well, she herself had wondered if Carole was too free with the information she was privy to.

  “I don’t mean to be rude, Belinda, but I have to finish evaluations before five o’clock—”

  The office door burst open. A balding man Belinda didn’t recognize stood there, dressed in rumpled clothing, his face high in color, his eyes bulging. Brita was on his heels.

  “I’m sorry, Ms. Campbell, I told him not to come in here.”

  Margo’s mouth flattened into a thin line, but she was otherwise unruffled. “Brita, call security. Mr. Newberry will be needing an escort out of the building.”

  Belinda stared wide-eyed, unsure of what to do. This was the man whom Margo had fired, the company’s previous CFO.

  “Get out, Jim,” Margo said. “Can’t you see I’m having a meeting?”

  “You conniving bitch,” he said, taking two steps toward Margo’s desk. “How could you do this to me?”

  Margo gestured with her hand, indicating his appearance. “Look at yourself, Jim. You did this to yourself. You’re the one with the drug problem.”

  “I don’t do drugs. You set me up.”

  “I understand that addicts often blame others for their weaknesses.”

  He pointed a meaty finger. “You won’t get away with this. I’ll kill you first.”

  Belinda swallowed hard, but Margo only smiled. “No, you won’t, Jim, because you’re a spineless little insect. Now go away before I squash you for good.”

  Belinda’s heart pounded, and gooseflesh rose on her arms. She wasn’t sure she’d be able to move her feet if she had to.

  The man’s hands shook and his face turned scarlet, but just when she thought he was going to lunge for Margo, he burst into tears. Margo seemed even more irritated, rolling her eyes just as two security officers swept in.

  “Get him out of here,” she said, then went back to her writing as though nothing had happened.

  Belinda watched a broken Jim Newberry being dragged out of Margo’s office and down the hall. The commotion had attracted a crowd—people openly gawked at their former coworker over the walls of their cubicles. Meanwhile, Belinda was trying to assimilate the scene that had just unfolded.

  “Close the door on your way out, would you, Belinda?”

  She looked back to her boss’s bent head, and a chill settled over her. Either the woman was used to dealing with Jim Newberry, or she was calm beyond explanation. At a loss for words, Belinda walked out and pulled the door closed with a slippery palm. She ignored the curious stares as she made her way back to her own office. Her phone was ringing when she walked in—an internal call, she could tell from the double ring. She dropped into her chair, breathed in and out, then picked up the receiver. “Belinda Hennessey.”

  “It’s me,” Libby whispered. “Were you in Margo’s office just now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is it true that Jim Newberry stormed in?”

  Belinda looked over her shoulder and lowered her voice. “I can’t talk about it.”

  “That turd has perfect timing—he went and got Margo all fired up right before my evaluation.”

  “I’d rather not—”

  “How did your evaluation go?”

  Belinda hesitated. “Fine. Good, even.”

  “I’ll get the scoop later. Wish me luck.”

  “I do.”

  “Oh, I talked to Rosemary, and she said she’ll be working until six, which tells me she’s killing time until she leaves for her ‘appointment.’ I told Carole to meet us at the car at six sharp.”

  Margo’s warning to find new friends sounded in her mind’s ear. “You still want to go through with this?”

  “Absolutely.”

  Belinda bit into her lower lip and went against her better judgment. “Okay.”

  Libby hung up, and Belinda returned the receiver slowly, light-headed from sensory overload. She had gone from elation over the promotion to awkwardness over Margo’s comments about the girls to the explosive encounter with Jim Newberry in the space of ten minutes.

  She needed a break. She swung around in her chair to remove her purse from a locked desk drawer, and in the process, she caught sight of the policies and procedures manual that Libby had loaned to her. A few pages were crimped where the woman had slammed the book shut Friday after looking up something in preparation for her evaluation. Belinda slid her finger into the spot and opened the binder.

  Activities That Result in Immediate Dismissal

  The subtitles were: lying on the job application or resume, insubordination (yilk), being convicted of a felony, possession of a firearm on the job, possession of an illegal substance on the job, breaching computer
system security, and theft.

  Belinda swallowed hard. Libby had been worried enough about the ramifications of one of those topics to look it up. Theft?

  When the suspicions threatened to take flight in her imagination, Belinda closed the binder. She had too much on her mind right now to be adding fuel to the fire needlessly. Libby could take care of herself.

  On the way to the stairwell, Belinda spotted Clancy hurrying in her direction. She braced herself for twenty questions about the Jim Newberry incident, but to her surprise, he was so lost in thought that he didn’t even notice her. Probably fretting about his evaluation, like everyone else. She allowed herself a tiny smile when she thought about her own promotion and what it would mean to her career.

  Not to mention her earning power.

  She descended the stairs to the ground floor and made her way to the vending area of the food court, a wide but shallow room lined with soda and snack machines. A few grungy-looking young men sat around playing handheld video games or reading magazines. Belinda fished quarters out of her purse and held them to the mouth of the Pepsi machine, then hesitated and considered the Coke machine a few steps away. Unbidden, Wade Alexander’s roadside teasing came back to her.

  “The Diet Pepsi will have to go. It’s all Coke around here.”

  Well…when in Rome.

  She walked to the Coke machine, dropped in her change, and a can of Diet Coke rolled out, so cold that condensation had formed. She popped the top and lifted it to her mouth for a drink. Not as sweet as Pepsi, but…good.

  She fought a yawn and checked her watch—only 4:00. The interminable morning commute in the rain had set the tone for the day. At least the weather had cleared, so the journey home promised to be less perilous, but she dreaded the undercover caper that Libby and Carole had planned. Following Rosemary, spying on her. Libby called it friendship, but Belinda had another word for it: invasive.

  And if what Margo had said about the girls was true, the last thing she needed to do was to get more involved in their lives.

  She took another drink, then squinted. Something about a man on the fray of the foot traffic coming toward her seemed familiar. Saunter. Hard hat. Toolbox. Yilk—Perry. She’d forgotten he’d said he’d be working in the building today.