by B. E. Baker
I do not have a crush on my boss. I don’t even like my boss. Which means I certainly do not have a crush on him.
“Gerty,” Nancy says.
I spin toward her voice, which came from the direction of the conference room. She’s standing in the doorway.
“Morning, Nancy.”
“Jack's here early today, so change of plans. We're doing the presentation first thing.”
I duck into the conference room, where about half the chairs are already full. Jack smiles at me, and my heart throws a few cartwheels. I press against my chest with my hand, hoping it's just a minor heart attack and not some kind of involuntary reaction to Jack’s grin. Because that might mean that I do have a crush on him.
He gestures at the chair next to him.
I look behind me to make sure he's not looking at someone else. But no, he's calling me to sit next to him.
My hand shakes when I pull the chair out and sit down. “Morning.”
“Good morning, Gerty,” he says. “I hope you slept well.”
I nod. “I did, thanks.”
He leans over his notepad, putting his face inches from mine, but covering his mouth so no one else can see he's whispering. “Let's get this over with so we can put together a plan for tracking the key logger.”
“Sure,” I whisper back. “I've been thinking about it. I think the easiest solution would be for one of us to be near your computer all day, with a phone open, scanning for Bluetooth devices. Anyone who hovers near your office for any amount of time with an active Bluetooth network becomes a suspect. Employees, delivery people, anyone.”
He touches my arm. “Don't take this the wrong way then. I need someone to be monitoring my office while I'm in here. I'm going to give you an excuse to leave and hang out in there.”
He sits up and says, “Gerty assembled the folders that all of you will be referring to during this practice presentation. While I appreciate her help, that means she's not going to be very effective as a test subject. Why don't you head to my office, Gerty, and see whether you can organize some of my notes. By date.”
Organize that mess? I want to groan and cheer at the same time.
I stand up. “Yes, sir.”
Jack lowers his voice again. “Don't throw anything away, okay? Sometimes I make notes on strange things, but they may be important later.” He drops his voice, which makes it unbelievably low. His whisper ruffles my hair. “In the lawsuit.”
My knees are wobbly, but I don’t think anyone can tell. “Got it. Clean up, but no trashing anything Jack Campbell has touched, even old snotty Kleenexes.”
“You never know what they might be worth on eBay.” He winks. “And depending on how this goes, I might need that money.”
I set my phone to detect local Bluetooth networks, but since this side of the office is a ghost town, I figure I may as well try to actually clean this mess up a bit. I spend the next hour trying to tidy up Jack's office without actually throwing anything away. I don't find any snotty Kleenexes, but I do find lots of coffee stained napkins covered in notes. And I notice patterns in the notes. Most of them are dated, including almost all of the post-its.
My boss is a little obsessive.
He returns to his office about an hour after I start organizing.
“Where are my Kleenexes?” he asks. “Because I feel a sneeze coming on, and who knows what inspiration I might have afterward.”
I put one hand on my hip. “You're a little OCD for such a slob.”
He grins at me. “I’m clearly not OCD, but this isn't my first rodeo. I know timelines matter. That's the real reason I don't throw anything away. Not until the patent comes through at least.”
“Your files are all here, organized by date whenever possible, and grouped by subject matter. I taped napkins and Post-it's to clean pieces of paper so they don't simply disappear.”
Jack smiles at me, which gives me the confidence to ask, “What else have you invented?”
“You're inquisitive for such a new employee.” He walks around the desk and sits in his chair. “Even so, you've done a pretty good job, Nosy Rosy.”
“I could do a lot more with a few hanging file folders,” I say. “And if we're going to be here for a while...”
He bobs his head. “It certainly looks that way, doesn't it? Any luck on finding networks?”
I hand him my phone so he can see the networks screen. “Nothing yet, but I’ve been alone down here. One of us needs to have our phone casually out all day, the sleep function disabled. We're looking for any Bluetooth networks, so no matter what else you're doing, you pretty much need to watch this at all times.”
“What transmission distance are we talking here?” Jack asks.
“Thirty feet, give or take,” I say. “Which means our best bet is to camp out right by your computer. The network would have to show up right here, at ground zero.”
“Good thing you cleaned off that chair.” Jack points.
I shake my head. “I can't just sit around now that you're here. Everyone would wonder what's going on. I've got other work to do anyway. Since you're back, you can take over.” I hold out my hand for my phone.
He meets my eyes for a moment, and time stops. My mouth drops open and I draw a ragged breath. I've never been so aware of anyone else's gaze.
His voice is rough when he says, “I'd rather you stayed.”
My heart skips a few beats. Okay, a few dozen. I should have spent a few more minutes on affirmations in the mirror.
“I think you're a little too accustomed to getting your way,” I say. “Turn on your phone and let me know if you need anything else. I'll be next door.” I snatch my phone from his hands and walk out the door before I can rethink my flirty refusal. It's hard not to look back at him over my shoulder.
I struggle to focus after I leave, which is idiotic. He's been in the office almost every day I've been here. I wasn't this moony then. What's different? We're working together now, and we share a secret. That must be it. He feels real to me now that I know him better. He's not the obvious egomaniac I thought he was at first, either.
Which reminds me I need to check on the firewalls. I stand up and start across the office.
Nancy stops me halfway there. “Where are you headed?”
“Jack told me to check on the firewalls until you've hired a new IT person.”
She bobs her head. “Smart. How did he know you knew tech stuff?”
I have no idea what Nancy knows, so I make up a lie as close to the truth as I can manage. “I stayed late last night to finish those folders and he had a computer glitch I helped him with.”
“Nice,” she says. “Maybe we should be looking for another assistant instead of an IT person.”
Hope surges in my chest, but I don't want to be presumptuous. “I don't think we're there yet.”
“Well, I'm impressed.” Nancy turns to head back to our shared office, but she stops mid-step and grabs the partition for the closest cubicle as if she needs it to stay upright.
“Are you okay?” I ask.
“Just a contraction,” she says. “Pretty common for me during the last few weeks.”
I had contractions too, but none that made me clutch something to keep from falling. But I work for her, so I don't argue about it. Even so, I'm not surprised around eleven a.m. when I reach our office again, and she's gripping both arms of her desk chair tightly, her knuckles white.
“Have you called your husband yet?” I ask.
She nods. “I think Annie may be coming a little early.”
“Don't worry. We'll handle things here. You enjoy your baby.”
Nancy forces a smile. “I hope so.”
“Had a rough first delivery, huh?”
She nods.
“This one will go much better,” I say.
“What makes you think that?”
I shrug. “A hunch.”
“I hope you're right.”
I tap on Jack's door. “Nancy's husban
d is on his way, because it looks like she's having a baby today.”
He gulps and stands up, his hands fisted at his side. “Wow, okay. Well, do we need to do anything? I can take her and meet him at the hospital.”
I shake my head. “Her contractions are still almost ten minutes apart, and she said Ken is nearly here.”
“Okay. Well, maybe you can tidy in here a little more while I check on her.”
It's sort of cute that he looks so discomfited. “Sure.” I pull my phone out and turn on the network signal search screen. My battery's below fifty percent. I'll need to plug it into a power bank if I'm in here much longer. Leaving it open sucks up a lot of juice.
I'm sitting in Jack's desk chair organizing some emails by date when a sound like a squeak draws my attention. A very tall, waif thin model who could easily grace the cover of Vogue looks down her nose at me from the doorway. I wonder how long it took to make her eyes that dark, dramatic, and smudgy. Or how she keeps that wine colored lipstick off of her luminescent teeth. Her dark leather jacket probably cost more than my entire wardrobe.
“Uh, hello. Can I help you?” I ask.
“Why are you sitting in Jack's chair?”
“Umm, well, I'm his interim assistant and I'm cleaning things up while he's dealing with his actual assistant.”
She raises one carefully waxed eyebrow. “Where is Nancy? And why would he need to deal with her?”
“You seem to know a lot about the SITB office personnel. Who are you?”
She crosses the room and trails her fingertips across the front of the desk. “I’m Jack's girlfriend, Cynthia.”
My eyebrows climb toward my hairline. “Oh, I didn't realize.”
“Clearly not.” She crosses her arms under her chest, shoving her ladies up even higher than her push up bra already had. I'm a little concerned they might pop right out of her sequined tank top and poke my eyes out.
“What are you doing here?” Jack asks in a raspy voice.
She spins toward where he’s standing in the doorway. “I came to see you.” Her lips drop into what looks like a practiced pout.
Jack steps into the office and Cynthia reaches toward his face. He catches her hand before she touches him and pushes it away. “You weren't invited.”
Her pout deepens, her mournful eyes downcast, her dark, full eyelashes fluttering. “You love to hurt me, don't you?”
Jack scowls. “Actually, that's your MO, not mine. Why are you even here?”
“I can't believe you're asking me that,” she says.
“We broke up, Cynthia, months ago. And yet you keep showing up like you never got the memo.”
I snort. “Did you really break up with her via memo?”
The corner of Jack’s mouth turns up. “I should have tried that. It might have made an impression.”
Cynthia glares at me.
I might be safer if I change the subject. “Did Nancy's husband pick her up?”
Jack nods.
Ish buzzes from the front. “Excuse me sir, but I wanted to let you know that Billy from Jimmy Johns is here with your lunch.”
“Yeah, send him back,” Jack says. “And keep your eyes peeled for Miss Dalton. She's on her way out.”
Cynthia's pout transforms into an imploring, lip biting simper. “Jack Jack, I know you miss me as much as I miss you. And I heard through the grapevine that you still aren't dating anyone else.”
Jack leans against the wall. “You shouldn't conflate my disinterest in others with my missing you.”
“Inflate?” she asks. “I'm not a balloon.”
I shake my head and suppress a smirk. “Jack said conflate, not inflate, and that means combining two ideas.” I've never been more grateful that my nerdy sister uses such big words all the time. She's forced me to know the meanings of them or routinely look like an idiot.
A short guy with a black and red Jimmy John's shirt and a ball cap appears in the doorway at the same time as Cynthia presses one hand to her chest melodramatically. “You're different when other people are around. Colder.”
“Excuse me,” the sandwich delivery guy steps past Cynthia and places three cylindrical subs on the edge of Jack's desk. “Where's Mrs. Jones?”
“She's finally having that baby.” Jack reaches for his wallet and pulls out a ten-dollar bill. “Thanks Billy.”
Billy takes the tip with a smile, but before leaving, he looks from Jack to me and then to Cynthia. He's clearly wondering what exactly is going on. Join the club, Billy.
“Should I walk her out?” he finally asks.
This has gotten pretty awkward.
I stand up. “That's okay, I can do it.”
“I don't need an escort,” Cynthia says. “I just can't believe you're asking me to leave without even hearing what I came to talk to you about.”
I roll my eyes and reach down to grab my phone, freezing when my eyes reach my screen. There's an active Bluetooth network named Delivery.
I need to check whether the key logger's active. I leap to my feet and pretend to stumble on my high heel when I straighten up. That gives me an excuse to fall backward against Jack's computer stand. “Ouch.”
I glance behind the desk as though I'm worried I knocked something over. The tiny white light is blinking.
I stand up straight and try to look natural when I pick up my sandwich and sniff it. “That smells great. I'm new, so I'm not too familiar with the office rhythm yet. Billy, do we order from you often? Because I could get used to this.”
He grins. “Well, Mrs. Jones craved subs this pregnancy, so I've been coming out at least once a week during the past few months.”
Often enough that Jack, who's rarely here for lunch, knows his name.
“Speaking of Nancy.” Jack picks up the third sub that Nancy won't be eating and holds it out to Cynthia. “Don't say I never gave you anything. Here's one last meal on me.”
She wrinkles her nose. “I'd never eat cold cuts, as you should remember.”
Delivery. It's got to be Billy's network. After all, he's a delivery guy.
I take the sub. “It would be terrible to waste such great food on someone who won't even appreciate it.” I offered to walk her out, but now I need to get rid of the dreadful Cynthia and follow Billy out instead.
How can I delay Billy and kick Cynthia to the curb? Think, Trudy, think. I'd love to widen my eyes at Jack or point at my phone so he'd know what's going on, but that's impossible to do without alerting Billy to the fact that we're onto him.
“Hey Billy, actually,” I say, “I heard Jim in the far office saying he forgot to bring his lunch. There's no way Jack and I can eat both of these. Would you mind taking this to him? Because I just realized Jack and I have a conference call in three minutes. I need to dial us in right away.”
Jim's already gone out to lunch. But it should take a minute or two for Billy to figure that out, hopefully buying us the time we need to follow him.
Cynthia frowns. “You have a conference call starting at twelve-twenty-four?”
What is with this lady? We've got to get rid of her quickly, and neither my suggestions, nor Jack's cold shoulder are working. I'll have to roll up my sleeves and be the bad guy.
“We're logging in five minutes early to go over our strategy with our lawyer. Not that you'd understand any of that. You don't strike me as a corporate heavyweight.” I put one hand on my hip and purse my lips in the snottiest way I can manage. “Please let us get back to work.”
Her eyes widen.
“Sorry to be rude to your friend, Jack, but you really do have to get on that call. It's my job to make sure you do it.” I move toward her and she backs up a few inches. It's enough that I can shut the door in her shocked face. It feels really good.
“If you could do that again while I record the interchange, I'd give you a really big bonus,” Jack says. “She's so obnoxious.”
I turn my phone around, but the Bluetooth network has unsurprisingly disappeared. I whisper in case anyon
e's near enough the door to hear me. “We had a download from a network named ‘delivery.’ I think Billy’s your leak. He comes here regularly enough.”
Jack straightens and grabs his jacket. “Let’s go.”
I hold out my hand to stall him. “We need to leave at just the right time so it won't look like we're following either of them out.”
He walks up next to me, the side of his body touching mine, and I inhale with surprise. My traitorous body sways toward him involuntarily and I want him closer still. I breathe in and out once, the scent of outdoors mixed with some kind of spice filling my nostrils. I lift my hand to touch his arm.
Until I realize he's only standing right next to me so he can peek through the window in his door. Of course he is. He's checking on whether the coast is clear. I force myself to step away from him before I do something idiotic.
“Okay.” He focuses entirely on the hallway, like he had no idea we were even touching before. “I think we're good to go. Do you have a jacket?”
I nod my head. “Yeah, I'll grab it so we can go.”
We exit through the back door and walk toward the employee parking area. Jack beelines for his Tesla without thinking, but that's a terrible idea.
“Not that,” I hiss. “It's too obvious.”
He pauses. “Duh. Do you mind driving? I assume your car's not as memorable as mine?”
“Nondescript at its best.” I point at my little Honda. “And I don't mind driving as long as you're paying for gas.”
He laughs like I'm joking. Yeesh. Hopefully we won't need to drive too much. I just filled up, and this tank needs to last me at least ten days until my first paycheck. I unlock my car, and he climbs into the passenger side. I cringe when he has to shove aside two empty granola bar wrappers and a protein shake container before he can sit down.
“Sorry,” I say. “I wasn't really planning to give my boss a ride today.”
Unfortunately, the back seat's even worse. I left my booster seat for Troy with Pam so she could take him to the park, so there's a ring of snack debris where it used to be. I close my eyes and shudder.
“It's fine,” he says. “You're doing me the favor here, and trust me. The last thing I'd judge you for is the cleanliness of your car.”
