For a few minutes I think about connector spacing, pressure tolerance and nothing else. It's the clearest my head has been all morning.
Then I hear a male voice behind me saying, “So, Veridian is one of those feminist companies that only hires women?”
I stand up. Turn around.
Marcus Hale from Sycamore Design is standing there, arms crossed over his barrel chest, looking smug.
He looks pointedly at Celia. Then at me. Like he is daring me to refute him.
I step forward to put myself between them.
"Nah, Veridian is a company that hires competent people." I say. "Regardless of gender."
I turn back to the rose bed. He came looking for friction. I'm not giving it to him.
He takes a step forward. Then another. His boot comes down directly on the rose bed, right on the plants, stems snapping under his heel.
"Hey, what the fuck are you doing?" I demand. "Get out!"
He comes near me. So close I can smell his coffee breath.
"I've been doing some research on you," he says. "Spoiled rich junkie." he spits out the words.
I go still inside. Force my face to remain relaxed and emotionless. I have heard some version of this before. It doesn’t affect me. It doesn’t!
From the corner of my eye I can see Celia moving toward me. I shake my head once. I can handle this. She stops but stays close.
"Congratulations," I say to Marcus. "You know how to use Google. Now get off my site."
"This is our site!" he shouts in my face. He moves even closer towards me. And with a malicious smile he adds.
"Yeah, you bet your ass I’m good with google." he says. "Enough to find out you got arrested Friday night."
And that makes me pause. I have been so absorbed in what happened after being arrested that I haven’t even considered the full consequences of it.
He watches my face and he seems pleased to finally have a reaction. " What do you think the MH Group is going to think about having their brand associated with you?"
His expression shifts into something satisfied. “You have until the end of the day to quit this job or I will share what I know with Carter Hill”.
I feel all consuming rage vibrate through me. Enough. This stops now.
"Why wait until the end of the day?" I don’t know how I manage to keep a steady voice when all my body feels like it's vibrating in anger. "I'll personally tell him now."
I turn and stomp my way to the hotel, leaving Marcus and his threats behind.
The lobby is cold and it smells like fresh stone and the white gardenias in the tall arrangement near the front desk.
My boots leave soil prints across the floor from the entrance. I'm aware of what I look like, with dirty jeans and flushed face, but I keep walking anyway.
Carter is near the check-in desk. Talking with a hotel manager over a clipboard, both of them midway through something. His back is half-turned to me.
I cross the lobby. Stop beside him and without any preamble, "I need to talk to you," I say. "Now."
When he looks at my face he must see the urgency, because without hesitation he tells the hotel manager. "We'll finish this later.” He then turns and makes a gesture for me to follow him down a corridor. He opens a door and holds it. I go through.
We are in a small office. The door clicks shut.
I don't give myself time to think better about what I came here to do.
