“Only every email from the past fourteen years,” she said. “Who do you think controls the passwords? Our IT person? Oh, right, that’s my job too.” She stood from the chair. “And another thing—”
“Sebastien!” a man’s voice belted and their heads jerked.
Thank god you’re okay! But you look like hell.
“Cary! Where have you been?” Sebastien asked. He said to Tyler, “We’re done here.”
“Forever,” she said. “You can take this job and shove it.” Johnny Paycheck’s song would have been the perfect music placement.
“I knew you had it in you,” Cary told Tyler, closing the door behind him. “Do you mind sitting in on this?”
Where’s the popcorn?
“I’d be happy to.” She sat across from Sebastien, squaring her shoulders as Cary sat in the seat next to her.
“Is something wrong?” Sebastien asked, perplexed.
“To put it mildly.” Cary’s eyes narrowed. “Where are my keys?”
“Keys?” Sebastien asked. “What keys?”
“The spare keys to my house,” he clarified, fingering his disheveled hair.
Sebastien pushed back his chair to make room for his belly before opening the top drawer of his desk. “They must be around here somewhere . . .” He rummaged through the drawer, office supplies flying everywhere. “I’m sure they’re here.”
“They’re not,” Cary said. “Tommy’s got them. She”—he pointed at Tyler—“saw Tommy and Lara coming out of my place the other day.” Sebastien raised an eyebrow and she nodded twice. He continued, “My building security pulled the footage.”
“What footage?” Sebastien interrupted.
“He’s been using my place as a common bawdy house,” Cary said. “There was a condom wrapper in my garbage, Sebastien.”
“Fucking Tommy,” Sebastien seethed slowly, fixing his baseball cap. “Sorry, did you say Lara was there?” He gestured to his door while they both nodded. “Lara!” he shouted, mispronouncing her name again.
Two seconds later Lara cracked open the door. “Can I help you?”
“Get in here!” he demanded, and the receptionist slinked into his office like a dog with a lowered tail. “What the fuck were you doing at Cary’s house?” he asked.
“Nothing.” She pursed her lips. “I mean, I wasn’t at Cary’s.”
“I saw you the other day coming out of the elevator,” Tyler said. “But it’s not your fault entirely.”
Lara lowered her head. “I was at Tommy’s.”
“That’s my place,” Cary said, and Lara’s eyes went dead.
“He said it washishouse.”
“No, that’s Cary’s penthouse,” Tyler confirmed. “Tommy lives in West Vancouver with his family. His wife and kids.”
Lara’s eyes teared up. “I’m sorry!” she cried. “I didn’t know! He said he’d help me with my singing career and—”
“You don’t have a singing career. Or any career,” Sebastien told her. “Just pack your shit and go.”
If only Tyler had a copy of theEmployment Standards Acton her person to show him it was illegal.
“Don’t talk to her like that,” Cary said. “Or anyone, for that matter.”
“C’mon, do you think she’s that stupid?” Sebastien asked, laughing.
