MOTION Page 8

  Just as I hit Send on the email, my account chimed with a new message from Jon. I stared at the subject line:

  I’m sorry. I love you.

  I sighed and crossed my arms over my chest. Shaking my head, I closed my laptop without opening his message. I was tired. I huffed again. I wanted to brush my teeth and go to bed. I didn’t like how uncomfortable and guilty Jon made me feel when I was certain—well, mostly certain—that he was the reason we were no longer together.

  “You keep sighing; I can hear you in my room.” Elizabeth came around the couch and flopped down next to me, stretching her arms over her head as she did so. “What happened with Jon?”

  I shrugged and unthinkingly expelled another loud breath. “I emailed him. I don’t really want to talk to him right now.”

  “You need a cell phone.”

  “No. If I had a cell phone then I’d have to talk to him. Since I don’t have one, I get to put that conversation off until I’m ready to have it.”

  “Fair enough.” Elizabeth lifted her hands in surrender. “I don’t want to talk about old soggy pants anyway.”

  I laughed and rolled my eyes; Elizabeth started calling Jon soggy pants when he accidentally sat in a wet seat at a movie theater once, and spent the whole movie with wet pants after confirming the liquid was soda.

  “So…” Elizabeth wagged her eyebrows at me. “I have something for you.” She pulled a card out of seemingly thin air and squealed as she forced it into my hand. “Look! It’s Quinn’s card! He gave it to me last night before we left the club.”

  I stared at it for a minute before I responded. “Oh. Are you going to call him?”

  Elizabeth frowned at me then hit me on the arm. “What? No! You left the club so fast that he stopped me and asked me to give it to you.” She nudged me with her shoulder. “He wants you to call him. Ah! Janie and McHotpants, sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g and f-u-c-…”

  “Wait!” I exclaimed, cutting her off. “No, no—he gave you the card because he wants to help me find a job. He thinks there might be an opening with the security firm he works for.”

  Elizabeth smirked. “Oh, really? That’s preposterous! What would give you that idea?”

  I pulled an identical card from next to my laptop and handed it to Elizabeth; “Because he gave me one too; he wrote the name of a business manager on the back and told me to apply for a job.”

  Elizabeth looked from one card to the other, speechless, then demanded, “Wait—when did he give you this?”

  “This morning.”

  “When did you…? Ok, start from the beginning. What happened? When and where did you see Quinn this morning?”

  I told her about going back to the club last night and everything that transpired thereafter: the blackout, waking up in Quinn’s sister’s apartment with no clothes on, the fact that he’d wanted to be sure I knew he hadn’t made a move on me, breakfast, and the business card. Elizabeth listened, frowning in disapproval and surprise, but confusion mostly, and didn’t interrupt even when I knew she was anxious to get to the origin of my matching business card.

  She contemplated me for a moment after I finished. “So did you pick up the test to see if you’d been drugged?”

  I shook my head. “No, I meant to, but I…” I sighed and let my head fall back to the couch. “I was so tired when I got home.”

  “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 toward 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 Seven

  Bing, bang, boom—I got a job.

  To my surprise and, quite frankly, utter disbelief, I received a return email from Carlos Davies, Director of Business Operations at Cypher Systems, on Sunday morning, followed by a rapid-fire series of events: Carlos responded to my message and requested that his secretary, Olivia Merchant, also included on the email, arrange an appointment for Monday morning. She responded Sunday afternoon requesting that I be at the office by 10:00 a.m.

  Olivia included directions to the office in her email, an informational document 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 10:00 a.m.

  The benefits package contained a salary offer for the position of Senior Fiscal Project Coordinator, which I read three times before I actually comprehended that the number was real and that I wasn’t misreading the placement of the decimal point in relation to the zeros. I tried to Google Cypher Systems but, other than finding 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 wasn’t sure how I would answer the question honestly. 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 a la Quinn Sullivan.

  Cypher Systems was located on the top floor of the Fairbanks Building. Olivia’s instructions indicated that I should check in with security on the lobby level, after which a security guard would escort me to the Cypher Systems offices.

  It seemed one needed quite a lot of escorting experience in order to be a security guard for Cypher Systems.

  My escort’s nametag labeled 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 was 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. When we got to it, he didn’t push a button as one would normally do, but instead placed his palm against a glass screen. The screen retracted to reveal a keypad. Dan then punched in a series of numbers and waited.

  “You’re very big,” he said.

  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.” That didn’t go over very well, even though it was true.

  Dan chuckled at my canned response and waved me into the elevator. I realized I’d never noticed this l
ift 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 silent and had to half-yawn in order to pop my ears as we traveled upward.

  The elevator doors 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 onto 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.” She then pressed a series of buttons on a phone that looked very high-tech. The first thing I noticed about Keira was that her black hair was in such a tight bun that 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 recruited. Qui—I mean, Mr. Sullivan arranged for the interview.”

  I was interrupted by a new voice. “Ah, you must be Janie Morris.”

  I turned to my left 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 gray suit, a white shirt, and a 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 chuckled softly. “No, no need. We’ve done a background check; you’re very qualified, and you have excellent references.”

  My face warmed at the compliment, but I wasn’t sure I deserved it. 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, and 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.

  I was doing my best to give a good impression, choosing my words carefully and trying to stay on topic, when another man entered. He was tall and lean, and his blond hair was disheveled as though he’d been running his hands through it. His gray eyes peered at me from behind fashionable black horned-rimmed glasses perched on a nose that 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 Carlos and me, 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 give verbal assent 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 hell of an 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 allusion that I was 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 said, as he trailed his finger down a column of number codes that denoted account names, and I noted that the columns had no title headings. “And these are the payment terms…the filing terms…and here are the estimated expenditures for this quarter and the actual expenditures 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.”

  “Hmm.” His response made no sense. I tried not to focus on the gargantuan size of the dollar figures but instead scrutinized the veracity of the calculated amounts. “Your formula is wrong here…” I pointed to two separate boxes on the spreadsheet. “…and here. Also, when did this account open? The balance should be negative if the projected expenditure column is correct.”

  When I looked up at Steven, I saw that 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 when I looked into his dancing gray 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, let it be 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 heigh
t. “Fine, then; I accept the job.” I turned to Carlos, who was also standing by now. “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 find me.”

  It was decided that, instead of meeting at Kat’s apartment for knitting night, as it was her turn to host, 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 after 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.

  “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—yes, that club called Outrageous! Anyway, his name is Quinn, and she went home with him after being drugged. They had breakfast together Saturday morning, 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 interrupted my story, largely relating to trivial clarifications, 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 shooed him away by demanding wine with quiet, urgent whispers.