Clive simply stares at me. He’s blinking, and they appear to be extra-slow blinks like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “We’re sharing this office?”
Sharing? I didn’t expect to share an office with the liaison. Obviously, it’s the first he’s hearing of this as well.
Not knowing what to say, I just shrug.
Clive stands slowly and looks around the impressive office. “There’s no room for another desk.”
I do the same, scanning the space and noting it’s nearly as big as Graham’s office a floor above. There’s plenty of room for another desk, but here’s the deal: I don’t want to share an office with Clive Burgess. As far as I’m concerned, Clive is under the microscope too. Anyone who has, allegedly, spent that much time compiling intel on his coworkers rather than actually working is just as much a problem as the guy who spends too much time playing solitaire on his office computer.
“Well.” I smile to alleviate some of the tension I feel in the room. “It’s almost time to call it a night. Let’s figure this out tomorrow.”
“Great.” He plops back down into his overstuffed chair and turns to his computer.
I take a moment to look at the office again. It’s nice. There are black-and-white posters of places like Paris and London about the space. There’s a large plant in one corner next to the floor-to-ceiling windows that give an impressive view of the city. Yeah, it’s very nice.
Absently, I look at the wall we share with Ben Schilling and recall his office has no windows. It’s also a quarter the size of this one, with barely enough room to walk around his desk. This office has a sitting area with a sofa, coffee table, and side chair.
“Whose office was this?”
“No one’s,” he says without looking up from the screen. “The former head of marketing had this office, but the new head, Sam, chose one closer to the elevators.”
“I see.” Not really. It makes no sense, but there’s no need to worry about that now.
“How long has it been vacant?”
Clive shrugs. “A year or two.”
A year or two? If it’s been empty that long, why didn’t Ben take this office? I might as well ask. “Why didn’t Ben Schilling move into this space?”
Clive stops typing and looks up at me. His slow blink is a little unnerving. Then he smirks. “He never asked.”
“Ah, I see.” No, actually, I don’t.
“Well, see you tomorrow.”
“Uh-huh,” Clive says absently. He’s already back to his computer.
I step over and retrieve my computer bag that’s on the floor in front of a small door. “Is that a bathroom?”
“Sure is,” Clive mumbles but still doesn’t bother looking up at me.
Without another word, I turn and step out of the office while at the same time pulling my phone out of my bag. I need to figure this office thing out tonight so I don’t have a repeat of any of this with Clive. I definitely don’t feel like sharing an office is a good idea.
Opening my email, I decide to shoot a message to the man himself.
To: Graham Morgan
From: Alison Kirby
Graham,
Clive has already set himself up in the office you designated for me. Is there another space for me to work?
Thanks,
Alison Kirby
By the time I’m on the street, I’ve already gotten a reply.
