* * *
I decidedto call one of the few people in my department I can trust. It just so happens that Sam Ford, our department head, is that person. I point to the chair opposite me. “Thanks for meeting me.”
“I’m glad you called.” Sam sits just as a waitress approaches our table. He orders first. “Bud.”
I nod to the server, “Same.” Our love of domestic beers aside, we also both graduated from Big Ten schools—Sam went to Wisconsin and I attended Northwestern. Granted, he’s about ten years older than me, but it’s still something that bonded us from the beginning.
As soon as the beer is served, I decide to cut to the chase. “What the fuck is going on?”
Sam shakes his head. “No idea. This consultant was as much a surprise to me as it was to you.”
“You do realize Clive’s got something to do with this, right?”
Sam nods. “Green folder.”
“An inch thick.” My guess is half of that is about me, but I’ll keep that to myself. “I overheard him tell the consultant something that wasn’t true, so now I’m curious what other shit he’s lied about.”
“What’d he say?”
I tell him what I overheard, and he shakes his head. “Clive never mentioned that office space, and honestly, I was surprised you never asked about it.”
“The office space isn’t my concern. I’m worried—”
“About what’s in that folder?” Sam’s head shakes from side to side. “What’s he up to?”
“That, my friend, is the million-dollar question.” It feels that way to me too. “I know he hates my guts.”
“When did that start? Because I swear the guy used to look at you like you hung the moon.”
I wince at his expression. “Hung the moon?” I chuckle. “I wouldn’t use those words, but yeah, he used to look up to me.”When did that stop?I close my eyes in an attempt to recollect the change in Clive. It was around the last time we went out for drinks to celebrate the end of a big project. I still considered him an ally, at least. “Eleven or twelve months ago.” It was gradual, the shift from friends to enemies, so I can’t give an exact date. I drink the last of the beer from my glass. “We’d just finished up the new website and social media campaign.” It was also around the time Sky came into my life and when everything outside of work started happening. But I’m not about to tell Sam about my secret life as a superhero. He wouldn’t understand.
“We need to get our hands on that damn folder.”
He’s right. “The consultant has it.” And I’ll never be close enough to Alison Kirby to get it. I suddenly feel sad, and I’m not sure why.
“As the department head, you’d think I could get access to it, but something tells me there’s something about all of us in that damn file.” He finishes his beer in record time. “And to be honest, it pisses me the fuck off. In all the years I’ve managed a marketing team, I’ve never seen anything like this bullshit. Graham Morgan had better know what he’s doing, because if not, he’s going to lose some good people over this shit. Including me.”
It’s a grim outlook, but he’s right. I nod, then wave down the server. “Another one?”
“Is the sky blue?” Sam chuckles, then coughs.
“Me too.”
Chapter Seven
Alison
I tossedand turned all night, and the little I did sleep was marred by dreams—dreams starring none other than Ben Schilling. The very attractive and muscled Ben Schilling. The wavy, dark-haired and blue-eyed Ben Schilling. Yes, I know I shouldn’t be thinking about him, but sometimes our subconscious plays tricks on us. In my defense, it’s been a while since I’ve, well, done it. My last relationship ended over a year ago, and I’ve not pursued anything since. It’s been just me and my vibrator, and it’s been fine.
Yeah, it’s been great.
Mostly.
Besides, Ben Schilling is notunattractive. On the contrary, he’s quite good-looking. I’ve seen him three times, and each time my body has reacted to him. Sure, the first time it was more of a fight-or-flight reaction. That time I fought, and rightly so. The second time I was shocked to see him and my handiwork. I really nailed him. His eye was a deep shade of purple.
The last time I saw him was from his doorway of his tiny office, and I felt a little sorry for him.
Okay, I’m just going to admit it. Perhaps I was hasty. Maybe he’s not a lech. Maybe he was honestly trying to help me the other day.
