1
Angel Gaffin
Laughter bubbled from the corner of the room where Donahue and Kyle leaned together, holding their steel mugs of coffee. Donahue ran his hand over the top of his tight black curls while Kyle leaned toward him with his eyes wide, probably telling some bullshit story about his previous night at a bar. Next to them, a thousand blue and white lights blinked on the wall of servers. Both men were taller than me—not that it took much to accomplish that—and slightly overweight in a way that made them seem cuddly and nonthreatening. My coworkers were part of why I loved my IT job.
Most of the time they were friendly and happy.
They didn’t yell at me.
If I didn’tgetan idea, they broke down concepts into easy-to-understand pieces and kept explaining until I grasped whatever they needed me to do for a job. I’d never felt more comfortable around other human beings. Constantly stressed-out people were the worst, because then my anxiety became jacked up from being around them, and I couldn’t sit still.
Or breathe.
Or function at all.
Kyle noticed me looking their way and nodded, face flushing pink, and that basically confirmed he was over there lying his ass off about doing some sex move even a Cirque de Soleil acrobat couldn’t pull off—let alone a forty-three-year-old functional alcoholic. I’d heard enough of his exaggerations to know the drill. I rolled my eyes at him, and he waved a hand at me with a wink and kept right on fibbing to Donahue.
Smiling, I turned in my chair and went back to updating the email software for Budget Busters. The dual screens in front of me scrolled numbers, all going according to plan. On a good day, most of my job was to sit here and watch the computers do their thing. I still wasn’t entirely sure what Budget Bustersdid—other than something to do with spreadsheets—but everyone used their email a lot. They also went through a ton of printer paper. It was my job, along with Donahue and Kyle, to keep the office gadgets functional. Somehow running around replacing paper always became my job, though. I eyed them up again and Donahue stepped back with a gasp, his hand going over his groin briefly, as if to protect himself from the story.
“He’s full of shit,” I called over, and Kyle flipped me off.
With a chuckle, I slipped on my red noise-canceling headphones, wiggled them until they blocked out the whir of the coolant system, and then snagged my cup of coffee from the desk to sip at it while a string quartet version of “Welcome to the Black Parade” set the workday mood. The freebies at this job were another big perk for me. Music streaming was a huge one. Every morning a cinnamon roll the size of my face was available to anyone who wanted one on a real glass plate from the bakery down the street, and huge carafes of coffee from Grounds and Gears showed up in the breakroom. I didn’t feel like I should waste the money to have extras I didn’t need to survive at my apartment.
The baked goods made me feel spoiled. I loved them. They gave me life. I snagged the rim of the plate and dragged it toward me, anticipation building as I danced my toes on the floor.I love you, cinnamon-sweet goodness.
Someone tapped me on the shoulder, and I flinched away from the touch so fast that I bashed my stomach against the edge of the desk.Ouch.Sucking in a breath at the pain, I lifted my headphones away from my ears and tilted my head back. “Yes?”
Kyle shoved his floppy blond hair off his forehead and winced through an apology smile. “So, we voted.”
Groaning, I swiveled the chair, and he backed off a step. “On what?”
Donahue nodded enthusiastically from where he still stood near the servers with his back to me, pretending he had something to do over there, when I knew better. Those servers barely needed any maintenance. He didn’t even turn around, the coward.
Kyle waggled his eyebrows. “It’s time you metthe boss.”
Immediately, I fidgeted with the piercing in the left corner of my lip, pulling the cool metal ball that connected the hoop into my mouth and wiggling the tip of my tongue against it. I made myself stop, though, when Kyle shook his head at me. The cleft in his chin deepened as he gave me a coaxing smile.
“Why?”
“He’s less likely to yell at you.”
That had me sitting up straighter. “No. Uh-uh. No way.”
Donahue turned and faced me across the room. He saluted me with his mug. “You’re a kid.”
Scowling, I stood and stretched and then took off my headphones to toss them behind me on my chair. I glanced down at my ripped black jeans and Amazing Spider-Man T-shirt, but that didn’t give me much leverage to tell them to go to hell about my age. I stripped off my fingerless gloves and ditched them on the chair, too, but that also didn’t help much because last night I’d slapped a coat of Blue Ain’t Slick on my fingernails.
They both stared at my hands, as if my age had dropped two years based on my polish alone.
“I’m not really dressed for meeting anyone… upstairs.” Helplessly I glanced up, and Kyle turned away to chuckle into his coffee like an asshole. “He’ll fire me.”
“Not if you fix his computer, he won’t.” Donahue nodded like a sage in a video game who always gives you the clues for the quest. “You get him back into his spreadsheets, and you’ll be a legend.”
“Then why don’t you two go!?”
Donahue and Kyle shared a long-assed look that didn’t make me feel any better. My stomach swooped.
Kyle pointed at me. “You’re our assistant.”
