No Offense

by Francesca D'Armata

  Ray groaned.

  “I never missed a day of work. Missing a day might have meant skipping a few meals. And, Mrs. Ray, I don’t like skipping meals. If you hire me, I promise I will get along with everyone.”

  Ray, the seemingly impatient, go-by-the-book senior vice president was speechless.

  “Are you still there?” Steely asked.

  Ray cleared her throat. “I have allergies. Just be here in two hours.”

  “Yes, ma’am, I can start working immediately.”

  “Hold on. You can have the job if you can pass the tests and a background check. Takes about three weeks to complete the process.”

  “Is there any way to speed up the process?” Steely pressed.

  “No, ma’am,” Ray said firmly. “It’s company policy. No way around it. Just be here on time. Tardiness tells me you don’t respect my time.”

  “Mrs. Ray, there’s not a chance of me being late.”

  Steely closed her laptop. She hitched a ride on the light rail to the JHI Tower.

  She had a job at the company founded by Jack and Beatrice Hunter.

  Bea might consider her a backstabber. She wasn’t sure. But if so, this backstabber was getting a paycheck to put food on the table and pay the electric bill, so Bea could eat bacon and eggs and watch the news nonstop.

  Chapter thirty-five

  The JHI Tower was a half-block structure of steel and glass. Steely stood across the street, casting her gaze up to Jack’s old window in the executive suite. Then she continued across the street, toward the lobby. A revolving door whirled her inside, where a half dozen guards in blue uniforms with guns attached at their waists watched for trouble. Security was tight. But it hadn’t always been. It sure wasn’t on Steely’s first visit when Jack Hunter was CEO.

  The security team checked everyone into the tower. Employees with ID badges had their ticket in. Visitors were sent to the reception desk, where two employees directed them to sit and wait to be escorted inside by whoever authorized them to be there. The thirty-foot ceilings created a noisy entrance extending to the sprawling reception area, where swayback chairs were aligned in rows.

  Knowing she lacked the needed credentials for entry, Steely veered toward the reception desk.

  “May I help you?” asked a woman identified by her badge as Candy.

  “I have an appointment with Mrs. Ray,” replied Steely.

  Candy was observant enough to spot the interview outfit: black skirt, jacket, white blouse, and dress shoes. “New hire?”

  “I hope so.”

  “What spot?”

  “Accounts-payable clerk.”

  Candy elbowed Kristi, her coworker. “See, I told you accounting is a revolving door.”

  Kristi nodded. “How long for the last guy—two days?”

  “Three hours. My friend in HR said he went to lunch and didn’t come back.” Candy looked at Steely. “If you last a month, I’ll buy you lunch.”

  Steely agreed.

  Candy picked up the phone. “I’ll call Mrs. Ray and let her know you’ve arrived. Name?”

  “Please don’t call yet. I’m early.”

  “Then have a seat. Let us know when you’re ready.”

  Steely found a chair situated where she could watch the employees line up and swipe their badges. It was a lively place. She wondered how long it would take Mrs. Ray to figure out who she was. She planned on laying low. Blending in. Maybe no one would pay much attention to her or her last name. Just do her job the best she could and collect a paycheck. The magazines, stacked in the chair next to her, held her interest for the next hour until Nick Dichiara zigzagged through the crowd and stooped down beside her.

  “Steely?”

  She lit up. “Nick! It’s so good to see you.”

  He wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Did you move back?”

  “Yes, Miss Bea missed the city.” She stared at his face. “How’d you do that?”

  “It’s a battle scar,” he said, brushing it off. “What are you doing here?”

  “I’m applying for a job.”

  “Applying for a job here? At JHI?” He squatted on his polished oxfords, pointing one hand to the floor. “Are you serious?”

  “I really need a job. Nick, I tried to call you.”

  “You did? When?”

  “A few weeks ago. I left you a couple messages.”

  “I didn’t get them. You know I would have called you back.”

  “I figured you were busy. I was a little short on personal references. I saw the job listing this morning, and here I am.”

  Nick lost his balance. Pressed his fingers onto the tile preventing a fall. He asked seriously, “What would you like to do here?”

  “Be an accounts-payable clerk.”

  He tilted to one side and then straightened up.

  “I need the job.”

  “I see. You know what? I have just the right place for you.”

  “You do?”

  “Yes, the executive training program. That’s where I’m going to put you.”

  “Nick, thank you for trying to help, but I can’t go six months without pay. I’d rather have the accounts-payable job.”

  His ears turned dark red. They looked feverish. “There are some things we need to talk about.”

  “I don’t know how long I’ll be here. I have to pass some test today and then a background check that could take three weeks.”

  “Background check? This is a screwball place. Who told you that?”

  “Mrs. Ray in HR. And she was adamant.”

  “Does she know who you are?”

  “No.”

  “Good. I assure you, she’ll get you set up today—insurance, benefits, everything. You’re starting today.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah, you have a job. But let’s keep it quiet as long as we can—you know, who you are. Would that be all right?”

  “Sure, I was thinking it might be awkward.”

  “The word will get out soon enough. You wait here. Benita will be right down to take care of you.” Nick squeezed her hand. “I need to run upstairs now. But I’ll catch up with you later. And Steely…I want you to stay close to me.”

  “You want me to stay close to you?” she said in a high pitch. “I don’t have a problem with that.”

  “Good. See you tomorrow.”

  She watched him vanish through the executive entrance.

  He wants me to stay close to him, and I’m getting paid. And I considered selling graves.

  Chapter thirty-six

  Nick shot up to the second floor. Convincing Ray to hire Steely as his executive trainee and to start her today was going to be a battle. First thing he had to do was backtrack since he had declined to take on a trainee, as Ray requested.

  He approached the last hallway to Ray’s office with no strategy. He was almost relieved when he turned the corner and found it empty. Pictures of Ray, with children in crisis, were framed and scattered around her desk. Some had medical issues, some financial, and many family needs. Ray might be a rough talker, but if you could get through the brick wall around her, you’d find a compassionate heart. Her jacket draped on the back of her chair meant she hadn’t left the floor. An empty saucer next to the keyboard clued him to her whereabouts.

  He sprinted toward the kitchenette in the back corner. Inside were a table, three chairs, a fridge, and Ray watching a cup circling in a microwave. She stood elevated on four-inch heels, a thick black belt squeezing the midsection of her suit.

  Nick knocked gently on the wall. He didn’t want to startle her. He had done that once before. “Benita? Do you have a moment?” Nick sounded mousey. His game plan changed the moment she glared back at him.

  “Mr. Dichiara,” she said firmly, “I’m on my way back to my office to finish the payroll for a few thousand employees. Some of them won’t make their bills next week if I don’t get this done. Do you think that should wait while I take an unscheduled visit from you?”


  There was no good way to answer the question. Ray had the skill to purposely word it that way. If he said yes, he was arrogant. If he said no, he was out. This was not a good start. So he cut the finesse and threw out his request.

  “I need a favor.”

  “A favor, Mr. Dichiara?” she snarled, twisting her head to one side. “I don’t do favors. You should already know that.” The microwave dinged. She yanked the cup out, drowned a tea bag, dumped in sugar from a box, and stirred.

  “I really need a favor like right now.”

  “Hearing tests are covered by your health insurance. You need to get yours checked.”

  “Benita, there’s a young lady waiting to see you—a new accounts-payable clerk.”

  “I told her she could have the job if she makes it through the application process. She’s early.” Benita checked her watch. “Over an hour early. Was she complaining?”

  “No. If she hasn’t complained by now, she’ll never complain.”

  “Mr. Dichiara, cut the chitchat. Tell me what you want or get out of my sight!”

  Nick dropped his arms to his side and stood up straight. “Benita, I need you to take care of her right now. Hire her today in the executive training program working with me.”

  “You declined to take on a trainee. Remember? So I made the decision.” Ray threw the spoon in the sink and shot daggers at Nick. “I’m giving that job to someone else. Plus she doesn’t want it.”

  “She’ll want it when we pay her as if she has completed the program.”

  Ray’s bifocals slid halfway down her nose. She looked over them at Nick.

  “Oh, and full benefits too.”

  Benita did not immediately react. He would rather that she did. Just go ahead and blow up. Get it all out. But she didn’t.

  She stewed.

  Steam smoked her face as she lifted her cup to sip. “You looking for a fight?”

  “Not in particular.”

  She rattled the cup on the counter. “Well, that’s what you’re about to get. You should be ashamed of yourself.”

  “Ashamed for what?”

  “She has the accounts-payable job if she passes the tests and the background check. Now, I’m deleting this conversation from my memory and getting back to work.” She took a step toward the door. If Nick didn’t come up with something fast, the battle would be over. He’d have to go back to the lobby and explain. He couldn’t let that happen.

  “One question, please,” he requested meekly.

  “What is it?” she snapped.

  “You know corporate policy better than I do.”

  “That’s not a question. That’s a fact.”

  “Yes…”

  “Then what? You’re dragging like the five-o’clock traffic.”

  “Tell me. Do I have the authority to hire her to work directly with me? And if I do, you must hire her unless she doesn’t meet the corporate hiring policy. Here’s the question: is that correct?”

  “Technically, yes. It doesn’t matter if they put you in a closet with bats, you’re still an SVP.”

  “Then trust me. She’s very well qualified. Please do this for me.”

  “Nope!”

  “Benita, please consider this a formal request to hire her today.”

  Every word steamed out. “Mr. Dichiara, you’re pushing me to my limit. We have to follow corporate policy.”

  “And if we follow corporate policy, your only alternative is to report me to my superior. That’d be good old Harry Keaton.” He nailed it.

  Her face maddened. The only thing Benita hated more than breaking corporate policy was Harry Keaton. Reporting Nick to Keaton would be like reporting him to the devil himself.

  “You’re not going to turn me in to Keaton, are you?”

  She glared.

  “Now, please, don’t keep our new employee waiting. And one more thing: please start her today.”

  “Can’t do that.” Benita planted her size elevens. “We have to do a background check. We can’t hire anyone without it.”

  “Her background is better than mine.”

  “At the moment, I’m thinking yours needs further review!”

  “Oh, and one other thing: please give her a sign-on bonus.”

  “Did we have to compete for a trainee?” Benita clenched a fist.

  “No. Label it as a relocation bonus. She relocated to Houston.”

  Benita bumped her cup off the counter, causing it to tumble onto the floor. Nick bent down to help. “Get your hands off my cup!” She grabbed it and sent it spinning in the sink. “Is there anything else you need to tell me?”

  “It’s a pleasure to work with you.”

  “Get out before I change my mind!”

  Chapter thirty-seven

  The traffic in the reception area had slowed. Steely sat quietly, with a ruffled magazine, ignoring the four eyes planted on her.

  “Did you see the way he hugged her?” asked Candy.

  “It was only a side hug,” said Kristi.

  “Yes, but definitely personal.”

  “Bet he has a twelve pack under that shirt,” said Kristi.

  They lowered their headsets to their shoulders.

  “Look how fast she turned those pages,” said Candy.

  “It’s not a novel, mostly just pictures,” said Kristi.

  “I knew I should’ve bugged those chairs.”

  “Didn’t security turn down that request?”

  “They don’t need to know everything.”

  Kristi snipped, “You in some kind of gang or something?”

  “We’re not here just to smile and nod. We’re the initial point of entry for every nonemployee who comes through those doors. We don’t know who’s coming in here. None of these people have background checks. There’s more mentals out there like that crazy man the other day.”

  They nodded.

  Kristi asked, “What’s Beef Ribs doing with that old ugly fiancée?”

  “The Lizard Girl? Monte said he dumped her. Then she tore his face up.”

  “Beat him?”

  “Didn’t you see him?”

  “No, I had a bad angle.”

  “Probably will leave a scar. The Lizard Girl is nuts. Always talking about herself in the third person.”

  “Why is she hanging around here?”

  “I don’t know. Security lets her come right in. But I’m calling HPD if she ever acts up again. Walking through the lobby with those hips swinging at everybody. Yesterday, she knocked an elderly fella over. Hit him and kept going.”

  “A hit and run?”

  “Never looked back. I reported her to HR. Mrs. Ray wrote it up. Oh, and if an ambulance ever comes again, I’ll hold the door while you watch the desk.”

  “Got it.”

  “Standard procedure.”

  They moved their heads in opposite directions, minding their posts. Steely glanced over and smiled.

  “Alert!” Candy flashed her eyes away. “She saw me. I’m bringing binoculars tomorrow.”

  “This ain’t bird-watching. You can’t sit here ogling people through binoculars.”

  “I’ll take a break, get behind those columns.” She pointed to the support beams. “My cousin taught me how to read lips. When the girl comes back tomorrow, I’ll know everything she says.”

  Candy spoke through her teeth, “Alert! Here comes that other big-mouth girl.”

  “She’s friends with the Lizard.”

  “I’m Erin Fitzpatrick,” the girl said, approaching the desk. Her head tilted upward, her chest out. “I have an appointment to see Mrs. Ray. Please inform her that I’m waiting.”

  “Sit,” Candy said sharply. “Oh, and you better lower that nose. You don’t want to drown in the rain.”

  “What’s your name?” Erin said in a raised voice.

  “Candy. C-a-n-d-y. I’m the chief receptionist. Now go sit yourself down.”

  “Was that supposed to be a joke?” Erin scathed. “You’re not funny. Yo
u’re rude.” She took a few steps away, flipped around at Candy, looked daringly, and then went on.

  Kristi covered her mouth. “Drown when it rains? I almost laughed.”

  “Did you see that shotgun stare that turkey gave me? She doesn’t understand authority. Hope she’s comfortable. She’s going to be there awhile.”

  “You’re not calling Mrs. Ray?” asked Kristi.

  “Who’s in charge of calling?”

  “You.”

  “Then I’ll call when I’m good and ready.”

  “You don’t play.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  They nodded.

  Ten rows of eight chairs were in the lobby. There was an 80 percent chance Erin wouldn’t even go to the same row. If Erin went left, the odds tripled.

  But she didn’t. She cut right and plopped herself down directly across from Steely. “Steely?” she squealed. “Is that you?”

  Steely lowered the magazine covering her face. “Hi, Erin.”

  Erin pitched an air kiss in Steely’s direction and then pulled out a mirrored compact and checked her face.

  “Erin, is your new job here?”

  “Yes. I’m launching my career in the executive training program—best one in town, maybe the entire US. But the billion-dollar question is, what are you doing here?” Sour-faced, she added, “Isn’t this kind of creepy for you?”

  “Not when I need a job.”

  “Which one are you going for?” Erin peered over her compact powder.

  “I was applying for the accounts-payable clerk, but I—”

  “Perfect.” She dabbed her nose with a cotton pad.

  Steely laid the magazine on the chair beside her folded her arms. “I’m just glad I’m getting a paycheck again. Finances have been tight.”

  “I know how you feel.”

  “You do?”

  “Yeah, we’re kinda going through the same thing.”

  “The same thing?” Steely shook her head. “I don’t think so.”

  Erin said, “You took that the wrong way.” She angled the compact near her nose, checking for stragglers. “My father cut me off without any warning—cut me right off.”