“I’m so sorry to disturb you, Jack, but we have a big problem at the office,” Jack’s receptionist Ellen stammered.
Jack glanced at the green illuminated time on the alarm clock and swore under his breath. He’d been enjoying the dream about Lauren so much he’d slept through the alarm. He should have already been on his way to the office.
“What’s the problem, Ellen?” he asked.
“I came into work early this morning and…” Her voice cracked.
Hearing the distress in her voice he shot out of bed and pulled clothes from the wardrobe.
Ellen started working for him after he’d taken over Henderson’s. She’d just been getting back into the workforce. One look at her and Jack had known that a woman who’d raised four boys knew a lot about organization and time management; something he desperately needed help with. She’d proved capable, and reliable, and ran his office like a drill sergeant. Nothing rattled her. Expect now. She sounded extremely upset.
“Someone has broken into the office,” she finally managed to say. “It’s such a mess, everything’s ruined.”
“Get out of there,” he commanded while shoving his legs into jeans.
“I’m outside. It’s terrible, Jack. I haven’t called the police yet. Should I call them now?” She sniffed.
“No, wait until I get there. I’ll be there in five minutes.” He hung up, threw the rest of his clothes on, and ran out the door.
* * * *
An explosion of papers and destroyed furniture littered Jack’s office. Ellen hadn’t been exaggerating when she said everything had been ruined. Standing amongst the chaos, his body quivered with anger as he looked around him.
Papers scattered the carpet like confetti and the desk lay on its side with deep crevices gouged into the shiny mahogany. Three torn football jerseys, that he’d won premierships in, lay in shreds at his feet. He clenched his hands into fists at the shattered glass scattered around them.
He’d worked damn hard and sweated his ass off wearing those jerseys.
The black, Italian-leather sofa where he sat to have his morning coffee while looking over the day’s reports was now carved up like a Christmas turkey, its stuffing thrown all over the room. Chairs were stripped of their fabric and the legs had been splintered and tossed around the room. On the largest wall, directly behind where his desk should have been, in red paint dripped the wordasshole.
The destruction and the hostile word written on the wall told him exactly who was responsible. The last time he’d seen Claire she’d been screaming at him in this very room.
There was no point calling the police. There was no solid proof, and he didn’t want to
explain the sordid details to them. And if he were truly honest with himself, hehadbeen an asshole. Getting involved with her had been unprofessional and never should have happened. If Claire had done the damage, which he’d bet his left nut to be true, he hoped she’d gotten the revenge out of her system.
The disaster zone needed to be cleared. He needed to organize a cleanup crew to haul everything out. He’d also need a painter and new office equipment and furniture. The more he looked around, the longer the list grew. Nothing had been spared. Claire had been one pissed off woman, and he’d underestimated her anger.
With his hands in his pockets, he walked around the room, kicking the debris out of the way. Jack heard Ellen in the reception area already organizing a company to come out. He had to remember to add a good bonus to her next paycheck.
Before taking over the business the office had previously been his father’s, and his mother had decorated it. The only things Jack added were the football photos and jerseys he’d hung on the walls.
Remembering that his mother recently had a bedroom redecorated, he thought about calling and asking who she’d hired. But his parents had left for a holiday in Perth two days ago, and he didn’t want to worry them.
Jack pulled his phone from the pocket of his jeans and dialed Leah’s number, hoping she could help.
“Hey you,” she answered on a flustered breath.
He could hear his niece crying in the background, so he got straight to the point. “Hi, Leah, can you tell me the name of the woman who did some decorating for Mum? I think she may have decorated her bedroom.”
“Why? Are you planning on hanging flowery curtains in your room with matching pink, fluffy pillows for your bed?” She laughed.
“Very funny. Who was it?”
“The woman works at the place where you bought Mum’s mirror. I think her name is
Laura or something like that.”
“Lauren,” he corrected.
