It’s late, later than usual for me. I hear the cleaning crew beginning their rounds on my floor and I check the time on my cell. I’m never here until this time of night, but for some reason I’ve had a hard time focusing today. The overhead lights dim and I decide I can quickly finish up the rest of my report in the morning. Yawning, I click save just as the janitor rounds the corner. He stops in his tracks when he sees me. “I’m leaving. Sorry.” I push my arms into my sweater and lift my purse from the drawer.
He smiles politely and reaches for my trash can to empty it. I don’t know what possesses me, but I stretch my hand out to stop him. “Hold on.”
I move a paper or two until I find what I’m looking for. I pull the weirdo’s business card out of the trash and stuff it into my pocket. The janitor nods his head as I lift my bag off the ground. Making my way to the elevators, I place my hand over the card in my pocket, twirling it around in my fingers.
I’ve been thinking about this damn card all day and I’m angry with myself for finally giving in and taking it out of the trash. As I step into the elevator I roll my eyes, hating my curiosity, and remove the card to finally see what it says.
The printed side of the card says Finnigan Walsh, Chief Marketing Consultant for Universal. Holy crap. No wonder he’s so happy. He must make a fortune.
I turn the card over nervously, not sure what I expect to find. I read it out loud, “I knew you were interested.”
Dammit! He even left a smiley face next to his number. I’m beyond angry at myself for picking it up. It’s not like I was ever going to call him. How did he know I’d do it? I don’t like being predictable.
As I make my way past security and through the practically empty parking garage, I search for a garbage can. Not finding one, nor being one to litter, I push it into the depths of my purse, vowing to rip it to shreds when I get home. I might even use the scissors to release my pent-up anger.
I open my car door and sit, briefly closing my eyes. Sometimes I like to take a quiet moment. It helps center me. It’s like I’m meditating or doing yoga. I spend so much time in my car, maybe being in it is like being home. After a few deep breaths, I turn my key in the ignition. The car sputters a bit and refuses to turn over.
“No!” I shout to no one. “Come on. Don’t do this to me. Not today.”
I sit in quiet prayer for a moment before I try it one more time. Nothing. It’s dead. I grasp my long black hair and twist it in my hand a few times, trying to decide what I should do. I pop the hood and make my way to the front of the car. As I stare at the engine, I wish I would have paid more attention when my dad tried to explain cars to me. I continue to stare like I know what I’m looking for and try my best not to freak out.
“Is everything okay?”
A voice from behind causes me to jump and I spin around, ready to karate-chop any would-be attacker.
“Whoa,” he whispers, backing away with his hands in the air.
“You again?” I say to Finnigan Walsh as he stands in defense in front of me. “Are you following me?” I question, placing my hands on my hips.
His head flops to the side. “Why, yes. I used my magical powers to know you were working late and arranged for us to finish at the same time. I also made sure to find your car in a ten-story parking garage and park one row away from yours to run into you tonight.”
I shake my head at my ridiculous accusation. “I’m sorry. I’m not in the best mood. I never leave this late and the one night I do, I have car problems.”
“Do you want me to take a look at it?” he asks with concern.
My eyebrows raise in question. “Didn’t you just start driving a couple of weeks ago?”
“Yes.”
“So even though you’ve never owned a car, you now know everything about what makes them work?”
His lip curls upward as he sets his briefcase down on the ground and steps forward to stand in front of the hood. “Well, I’ve seen a lot of movies and that’s usually what the tough guys say, so I figured I’d give it a whirl.”
I let out a small huff in amusement.
“Could it possibly be your battery?” he asks.
I snap my fingers at him. “Yes! Maybe it’s the battery! Could you give me a jump?” I ask.
“Liza, how forward of you,” he says, placing his hand on his chest. “We’ve just met and although I’ll admit I find you adorable and challenging, I think it would be best if we focused on your car. At least, for the moment,” he adds with a wink.
I frown in irritation and he laughs. “Do you have cables?”
“Yes, in the trunk.”
He opens my car door and pops the trunk before walking around the back and removing the cables. “Do you always travel with a blanket or is this from a special occasion?” he asks.
“Not that it’s any of your business, but yes, I always have a blanket in my car. I also have a flare and snacks. You can never be too careful.”
