by Lynne Silver
“You may want to rethink your offer of escorting me home,” she said.
“Why? And full disclosure, I rode my bike today, so I’ll have to escort you on the train or a taxi.”
“But I live way up in Wrigley,” she said.
“I don’t mind.”
“Well, let’s take the train, then,” she decided.
They hopped onto the El, which was moderately empty at that time of night. He had a brief moment of thankfulness that the security detail the company wanted on him hadn’t started yet. It would be awkward having a third wheel hovering. For now, he could still ride around town like a regular guy, and that’s how he wanted it to stay. He didn’t think a kidnapping threat was even that credible—after all, plenty of people in Chicago had more money than him. Look at Oprah. Wait, not a good example. She did have security. But she was a media personality. He wasn’t famous except to a few hardcore groupies at DEF CON and the local Micro Center.
The easy conversation continued on the ride home, until she smiled at a poster advertising a local business conference featuring Noah Frellish, CEO of LightWave Tech, as the keynote speaker. His headshot was in the corner of the poster, but a graffiti artist had given him a thick curlicue mustache and some seriously evil-looking eyebrows. He grinned.
“So, have you met him?” Michelle asked.
Chapter Two
He turned slowly toward her. What had she said? They’d spent the past two hours hanging out, having a great time, and somehow, she had no idea he was the CEO of LightWave. He opened his mouth to explain, but she leaped from her seat and grabbed a metal pole to steady herself as the train ground to a halt.
“This is my stop,” she announced, and scooted out the double metal doors.
He followed in a stupor, holding a heated internal philosophical and ethical debate. She didn’t recognize him. She liked him for him. He should tell her he was her boss—well, her boss’s boss’s boss.
“I wonder what Mr. Frellish is like,” she wondered aloud.
Uh, how to answer this? “He…he’s a computer geek at heart. We speak the same language. He hangs out a lot with the engineers and help desk team,” he said, feeling horrible and deceptive speaking about himself in third person. He knew he should tell her he was Noah, but he’d had a great time with her tonight, and the relationship would change if she knew he was the CEO. He’d tell her tomorrow, and they’d have a good laugh.
“Imagine what it would be like to be a billionaire at our age.”
“Or at any age. It probably brings a whole host of issues Noah never imagined or wanted to deal with.”
“I guess,” she said skeptically, “but then he could pay someone to deal with those problems.” She laughed.
“Not always,” he said, and quickly changed the subject before lightning struck him for being such a liar.
At her apartment, she didn’t invite him up, and it was just as well—he had a 6:00 a.m. call with a Japanese company and needed to brush up on sales numbers in that market. But she gave him a warm hug and a sweet kiss at the corner of his mouth. He hoped that didn’t mean she saw him as a friend. It’d be like high school all over again. Oh Noah, thanks for helping me with my math homework. You’re the best. If he was the best, why had every girl found a different guy to take them to the prom or to the movies on weekends? “See you at the office. Call me if you run into any rogue printers again.”
She laughed. “See you.”
…
Michelle practically floated into her one-room studio apartment, slightly giddy. She’d made her first real friend in Chicago. And he was a guy. An adorably sexy guy. She’d wanted to kiss him full on the lips, but she thought one should go a little slower with the computer-nerd types. As her apartment shook from the El rattling by the building, she changed into her PJs and smiled at the world.
The following morning, Jim announced a call center meeting. Everyone was expected to be there. Michelle filed into the large room that served as a cafeteria of sorts, where an imposing man wearing a tie stood at the front of the room. He was introduced as the COO of the company. She knew CEO stood for chief executive officer, but what was COO? Chief Organizing Officer? Output? He was also the only one dressed formally. She kind of liked it—very urban and adult. In an office where jeans and comic book characters on Tshirts were the norm, she liked seeing at least one person looking like her image of a corporate executive.
At least she liked it until he stood in front of the room and announced that the Chicago call center was being disbanded in favor of an overseas operation. Loud, angry murmurs filled the room. He continued to say the HR team was on-site to assist with any questions, and all employees would have the opportunity to transition into new teams at the office within four weeks. Seniority and longevity at the company would be taken into consideration.
That left her out. Sark’s information had been good. Too good. She didn’t have a college degree or any other job skills, so how was she going to compete for a new job? She might as well go home, pack up, and book a bus ticket back to Iowa.
One week. She’d made it one week in the big city.
She was numb during her meeting with a sympathetic HR representative. Most of the conversation didn’t even penetrate. Instead her mind buzzed with panic. She wanted to find Sark. Maybe he would know how to find a position in another department. His information on the layoffs had been accurate. Maybe he’d have other good info.
One tiny detail of a problem, however. He hadn’t told her his last name. There wasn’t exactly a directory, and with three hundred employees, it would be tough to search the internal e-mail database by first name.
During a surreptitious bathroom break before lunch, she found her way upstairs to the help desk section of the office. He hadn’t specified which department he worked for, but she was pretty sure it was the help desk based on his T-shirt and the way he’d fixed her printer issue. They’d been pretty glaring clues that Sark belonged up here on the fourth floor with the rest of the techie employees.
She looked around the fourth level curiously. Colorful power cords and wires hung everywhere, twisting their way to more computers than the average Best Buy. Orange Nerf darts stuck to all metal surfaces. The cause for that was clear, as she noted Nerf guns at every desk in all shapes and sizes. Was this an office or a game room? Only two employees were at their desks, both young men in their twenties, wearing ratty jeans and Tshirts with sayings on them.
“Is Sark around?”
Both men looked at her, then at each other. One finally spoke. “Nah. Haven’t seen him yet today.”
“Oh, well, when you do, will you please tell him Michelle stopped by looking for him?”
They exchanged another odd glance. “But…”
“Gotta run. I’m taking an unauthorized break.” She sprinted back down the stairs to the call center department, where the mood was somber. The person at the desk next to hers had packed up and left. Personally, she thought it was stupid to leave before getting the final paycheck or learning about continuing health insurance benefits, but what did she know?
She sat at her desk answering phones and doing her job until her stomach reminded her it was lunchtime. As she pulled out her home-packed lunch and wished she could afford to go out to eat, her computer beeped with an incoming e-mail alert. It was from [email protected].
Heard you were looking for me. What’s up? his e-mail said.
You were right about layoffs. Have one month until back to Iowa for me, she replied, typing quickly.
She was surprised when she got a response almost right after she hit send.
Bummer. Meet me in lobby and I’ll treat for lunch to cheer you up.
The invitation alone did the trick as far as cheering her up. She stuck her soggy turkey on wheat back in her insulated bag and put her computer to sleep. She checked the clock on her phone and wished she had time to fix her makeup. She might be jobless, but she was still about to meet a handsome man for lunch.<
br />
Instead, she touched up her lipstick and headed downstairs.
Sark was already there, speaking to the man in the suit from today’s meeting. She was surprised the COO would have anything to say to a help desk employee, and guessed it had something to do with his computer. Maybe that was how Sark got his inside info, from fixing other people’s computers? She waited a polite moment until the head guy left, then skipped up to Sark.
“Ready?”
He grinned. “That was fast.” He led the way out the door, waving and acknowledging multiple greetings from other employees.
“You sure are popular,” she commented.
“What do you mean?”
“At last count, at least seven people waved and said hi to you on our way out the door.”
“Oh, um…”
He looked trapped. Poor guy was probably a little shy. She’d heard that techies at large companies were sometimes like that. “Must be a help desk thing, right? At some point you get to meet everyone to set up or help with their computers.”
He looked relieved. “Yeah, something like that.”
“We have to make this fast. I only have forty, make that thirty-five minutes, for lunch.”
“No problem, my favorite lunch place is down the block and fast.”
…
“These don’t look like any chickpeas I’ve had before.” She peered down at her falafel wrap. Steam curled up from the soft pita.
“They’re ground up, then fried into balls. Try it. It’s delicious.”
“I’m kind of a meat-and-potatoes gal.”
“Hazard of growing up in Iowa?” Sark asked.
“Probably.” She took a big bite of the wrap and leaned over the table as it started to come apart in her hands. “Whoa. Messy.”
Sark handed her a napkin. “Yeah, they can be. Hold it tight on the bottom. Or I can grab a plate and you can use a fork.”
“No. I want to eat it properly.” The salty and nutty flavors exploded on her tongue, accompanied by the refreshing bite of cucumbers and tomato. “It’s delicious.”
“How did the meeting go today? Are people really upset?” Sark had barely taken any bites of his falafel.
“How do you think people took it? I can’t believe LightWave is laying people off. If I ever see Noah Frellish, I’m going to give him a piece of my mind. How dare he run a company where people are hired and fired a week later? It’s shameful.”
Sark looked stricken, and she reached out to squeeze his hand resting on the table. “You’re sweet to be upset, but don’t worry.”
He opened his mouth, probably to apologize, so she rushed in to stop him. “Seriously, it’ll be okay. And I’ve thought of the silver lining in all this.”
He paused with the straw of his soda halfway to his sensuous lips. “What’s that?”
“I’ll have more time to spend with you.” As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she wished for a time machine to go back and retract them. Instead of looking amused or intrigued by her offer, Sark looked ill and choked on the soda coming through the straw.
“Sark, I’m joking,” she hastened to say, inwardly cringing. It was turning into a crap day. First she was laid off, and now she’d made a fool of herself in front of a man she was attracted to. Nice one. “It’s totally fine if you’re not interested.”
He grabbed her wrist, nearly making her drop the falafel. “Oh, I’m interested. Trust me, I’m interested.” His finger stroked the inside of her wrist, causing shivers to roll down her spine. “Just a bit shocked you’re able to joke about being fired this soon. I can’t imagine how hard being unemployed must be. I wish—” He broke off, looking like he wanted to say something, but changed the subject. “How about dessert? You have seven minutes left.”
She placed a quarter of her remaining falafel back on the foil. “I’m nearly stuffed, but I can find room for dessert. You didn’t let me pay for my own lunch, so it’s my treat for dessert. I insist.”
They left the falafel restaurant and she dragged him to a newspaper stand anchoring the sidewalk corner. “We should have time for this. Choose anything you want, but I highly recommend these.” She picked up the small brown bag of M&M’s and held them as if they were the finest thing on the menu in a five-star restaurant.
He grinned and accepted the bag. She grabbed another for herself and dropped two dollars on the counter. They strolled back to the office, sucking back the chocolate rainbow pellets.
“Don’t tell my mother I’m eating these,” he said.
“What, why not? Is your mother a health food nut?” she asked.
“Yup. She’s a nutritionist, and is fine with sweets now and then, but goes crazy about anything with artificial colors. According to her they’re poison. Luckily for Mars, their poison tastes awesome.”
“What about at Halloween—did she let you trick or treat when you were a kid?”
“Yes, but I had to trade in all my candy for other prizes.” He shrugged. “I was only bothered by it at my birthday in school. All the other moms brought in supermarket cupcakes with cool frosting or Superman rings on top. My mom brought in cupcakes, but they were home-baked and always had a vegetable or two sneaked in. Imagine explaining to third-graders that the green thing in the cupcake was zucchini.”
She laughed. “Oh, no. I’m sorry.”
He shrugged and ate a handful of M&M’s. “It’s okay. And now that I’m older, I see her point. There are some scary chemicals in our processed foods these days.”
They both looked down at the small brown bags for a long, silent second, then laughed in unison as they continued to eat anyway.
As they approached LightWave’s office building, Michelle said, “Do you know how I could find another job within the company? This is my first experience with big business, and I’m not sure how to go about it. You seem to know everybody.”
He frowned, looking skyward, then back at her. “What would you want to do? If you could have your dream job, what would it be?”
She loved that he was asking about her dreams and wished they had time to cozy up and share more, but she only had a few minutes to spare before she needed to get back to work. “Well, I used to do all the promotions and signs for my parents’ store, so I’d love to work in the marketing department.” She blushed. “Of course this isn’t at all similar.”
“No, it is. Just on a different scale. Especially since we target a global audience, not a local one, we have to consider the Internet in our marketing plans.”
“‘We,’ ‘our’? It’s more than a job for you, isn’t it?”
He looked startled and dug through the M&M’s pack as if looking for a long-extinct light-brown one. “Doesn’t everyone feel loyalty and ownership of their company, especially one where we get stock options?”
She laughed. “I’ve only been here a week. How long have you worked at LightWave?”
“Oh, since the beginning.” He paused for a moment. “I’m gonna find you in a month and ask how you feel about the company then.”
“Sure, you do that. Oh wait, I’ll be gone in a month.”
“Don’t talk like that.” He furrowed his brow, then looked up suddenly. “I know about one possible job opening. As soon as we get back to the office, send an e-mail to the marketing director. Her name is Casey Harper.”
“I can do that?” Michelle asked doubtfully. “Isn’t Ms. Harper busy?”
“Sure, but not as busy as she will be in a few weeks if she doesn’t find a temp fill-in for her administrative assistant going on maternity leave. Trust me. She’ll want to hear from you, especially since you’ll be showing initiative.”
They reached the glass and metal entry doors. The lobby teemed with employees returning from lunch. Sark froze. “I remembered I promised to pick up a…smoothie for my coworker. He had to work the lunch shift, so I’ll get him some food.”
How sweet of him. “Okay, bye. Thanks again for lunch.” Impulsively, she leaned up and grabbed him for a tight hug
. Her chest met surprisingly taut muscles.
He returned the hug, then stepped back and smiled. “Remember: Casey Harper. Send her that e-mail. A job won’t come find you, but I know you’ll find a job.”
…
And she would if he had anything to do with it. Was he or was he not the CEO of the damn place? What was the point if he couldn’t pull strings for a friend? Though the idea didn’t sit well with him. It wasn’t fair for the CEO to play favorites when there were many qualified employees about to lose their jobs, some with children. He wished he hadn’t agreed to moving the call center in the first place, but Ted, the COO, had been convincing with so many numbers and graphs to back up the data. If he had his druthers, the call center would stay in Chicago. He hated this part of his job. Sometimes he wished he truly was back on the help desk solving IT issues instead of getting a hands-on MBA on the fly.
Some days it seemed like his CEO title was in name only. Since LightWave had gone public, he’d lost a lot of say and voting power in the day-to-day operations of the company. Friends had warned him—they’d said that by taking the company public, he’d have to answer to shareholders and a board of directors. Going public had raised the capital they’d needed to get their technology onto practically every cell phone worldwide, but now the trade-off was giving him some miserable moments.
He hung out in front of the building for a few minutes, avoiding the pockets of smokers huddled by the concrete ashtrays, to give Michelle time to return to her desk. Walking through the lobby with her again and having people call hello to him would be a dead giveaway that he wasn’t simply Sark from the IT department. He felt horribly guilty about perpetuating the lie, but when she’d all but said she wanted to kick Noah Frellish’s ass, he’d about choked. He was impressed by her temper and simultaneously turned on by her ire. He’d give her a day or two—or twenty—to calm down. Then he’d atone for the lie by e-mailing Casey and telling her to be on the lookout for Michelle’s inquiry.
