Page 20 of Lying Lainey

“Fuck, fuck, fuck it all to hell,” I yelled, throwing the needle across the car so it smacked into the opposite window. “You happy now, fuckwad?”

The click of the doors unlocking was my only response which I was fine with. I’m not sure I would have held back from punching him in the face. However, I did chuck the rest of the medication at him just before slamming the door closed. “Bastard.”

“Ah… Ms. Collins, are you all right?”

Spinning around, I found Quintin standing at the base of the steps.

nine

Quintin

The morning hadn’t started off the way I’d hoped, and it seemed I wasn’t the only one suffering from this fate. I’d noticed the car stopped as if to drop someone off, but when I saw Ms. Collins burst out of it, slamming the door closed, I couldn’t help but pause.

“Ms. Collins, are you all right?” I asked, surprising myself that I would interject myself into this situation.

That was more H’s department, dealing with employee relations. My job within the company was to ensure we ran at peak performance, with the best people in place for optimization, while remaining within our budget. None of this required me to become overly invested in the personal lives of our employees. While that might make me callous and pragmatic, it’s one of the reasons we’ve done so well over the years. A sob story might work on Halstead, lord love the man, but it would roll off me like water on a duck’s back.

“Yes, totally fine,” she answered, brushing her hair out of her face. “Just had the delightful experience of an ever-so-cheerful taxi driver.”

I stared at her for a moment, the picture of elegance and daringness in an all-white pants suit. You could tell she was a woman who liked expensive clothes and had refined taste. Yet something about how she went about it didn’t make it feel like she was flaunting or showing off. This woman was different enticingly so, and I couldn’t seem to put my finger on what it was exactly. Nor could I discern if it was good or bad, but I was intrigued enough to take note.

“Yes, that is the downfall of taxis… you’re at the mercy of whoever your driver might be. This is why I prefer to drive myself to work. There’s no guessing in that,” I answered as we started up the steps together.

“Oh, is there parking here?” she questioned. “After this morning, I might think about getting a car.”

What had that driver done to upset her so? Furthermore, why do I even care?

“There is a parking garage under the building, but there is a fee to use it. Most of our employees rent a parking spot and pay for it monthly. This way, we can keep track of how many people are using it and if we have space to accommodate more. I believe in the last report I read there were a few open spaces left, but you’ll want to check with HR to make sure,” I explained.

“Thank you, Mr. Price, I’ll look into it.” She smiled as one of the security guards opened the door for us. “Next, I’ll have to see if the cost of my peace of mind is worth having a car. The way Mr. Norlund and Sam talk, I don’t think I’ll have the time to be driving to many places other than here.”

That would be true, especially if she found a way to get H to keep her on staff, then she’d be incredibly busy keeping up with his schedule. When I became CFO, I felt like I was given a massive pay raise for less work in comparison. Of course, I was far busier now that I was running things and Enigma had quadrupled in business from that time.

“If you need the name of a car service, I can provide you with a list of a few I know have been used before and are reliable,” I offered.

For Christ’s sake, what am I doing?

In a seamless move, Elaine turned to look at me and somehow managed to toss her hair out of the way as she slung her purse over her shoulder. “So it’s not just Mr. Norlund who looks after his employees above and beyond the norm.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that because it wasn’t true. Normally, I would have taken her at her word that she was fine and been on my way, but for some reason I can’t seem to explain, I wanted to be around her.

“It is far more uncommon for me,” I admitted, unwilling to let her believe something false about me. “Halstead is the one the employees like. As for myself, well, I’m sure you’ll hear for yourself around the common areas. Unlike Halstead, I’m not driven by my emotions and prefer to rely on hard evidence. People perform up to my expectations and are rewarded for their effort, or they are replaced by someone who can achieve what I’m looking for.”

“Pragmatic… I like it,” she stated with a nod as she entered the private elevator.

Her answer caught me so off guard I paused for a moment before entering. Nothing about this woman was making any sense at all. Each time I expected the same response I got from everyone else in my life, she put a different twist on it.

“Yes, precisely,” I mumbled as I entered and hit the button for the top floor.

We fell into a comfortable silence, and I surreptitiously leaned a little closer, taking a deep breath. Her paperwork declared her a Beta, not that it would have mattered what designation she was. However, if she didn’t believe that and was really an Omega, it might explain my peculiar behavior toward her. When I got a good read on her scent, I scrunched my nose at the chemical smell coming off her.

Was it her makeup? Perfume? I’d never smelled a scent like that unless at a hospital. Wait, was she sick? A growl of irritation at myself slipped out, and just as the elevator doors opened, I rushed out to head for my office. I’m sure my abrupt exit after making such a sound caused her to think I was being quite rude. It wouldn’t be the first time someone thought that, nor the last, so I stopped caring somewhere along the way.

Once in my office, I hung my coat in the hidden closet behind my desk and set my briefcase in its spot under the desk. Taking a moment, I took a deep breath counting to ten, forcing my hands to relax as I exhaled until there was no more air in my lungs. Repeating this, I felt more grounded, cooling off the chaotic emotions building up in my head.

Unnecessary feelings make you sloppy, Quintin. I hear my mother so clearly in my mind, almost as if she’s speaking right into my ear.

I snapped my eyes open and marched over to my beverage bar. Flipping on the kettle, I got the water boiling as I collected the items I needed to make my favorite matcha tea. Over the years, I’d been in therapy to overcome the severe mental damage my mother had done to me growing up. I found this ritual to be soothing. One of my therapists had suggested I find some routine or coping mechanism to put my focus on instead of the intrusive memories of my mother’s teaching.