Unraveled (Jersey Girls Book 1)

by Lisa-Marie Cabrelli

  There was more bitterness and disappointment bundled in the twenty or so Ann Taylor Loft suits of the Bitch Clique than you would find in the entire state of New Jersey. Everyone pissed them off, and they ensured that everyone paid for it. The payback methods of the Bitch Clique varied. For minor offenses, you could find yourself subject to a calendar shut out. “Oh, I’m sorry; it doesn’t seem as though Chris has time on his calendar until next April.” For more severe offenses, you might find yourself standing at an airport at midnight with no limo pick-up in sight—the more obscure and dangerous the location, the better. One could never know what would qualify as a slight, and an internal slight from another Bitch Clique member induced much greater wrath. Claire was well-aware that one did not want to be an enemy of the Bitch Clique.

  “Hey, Nadia.”

  “I heard you got promoted. Congrats,” She reached into her purse and pulled out the tube of bright red lipstick to layer on another unnecessary coat.

  “Oh, come on, Nadia—you know this isn’t real promotion.”

  “If you’re smart, Claire, you’ll get yourself out of it. I‘ve been working here for eight years. Nick has promoted a lot of bimbos in that time, and one of two things happen: they either fail miserably and end up back with us before a month is out, or they betray the entire female race and sleep with him to keep the promotion. You wouldn’t betray the whole female race, would you, Claire?”

  Claire thought, Did she just call me a bimbo?

  Nadia opened her bag, replaced the lipstick, and brushed imaginary lint off her dry-cleaning-fluid-scented shoulder. She raised her eyebrows at Claire. Clearly the message was “I’m waiting.”

  “No, Nadia, I have no plans of betraying the entire female race, and I don’t think you need to worry about me succeeding, as I have absolutely no freaking clue what I’m doing.”

  “Good. I’m glad to hear it, Claire.” Nadia bestowed a fake smile on her that made her feel like a dog who had just followed a particularly difficult command. “Come on, I’ll buy you a glass of wine and tell you about the conversation I overheard Shine having with one of the floor-scrapers today. He is a complete ass!” Nadia sashayed her way away from Claire’s desk with her tiny pencil-skirt-enclosed bum swinging with attitude.

  Claire sighed and followed her. She had been hoping to spend time alone with Sally, because the promotion wasn’t all she needed to talk about.

  6

  Satish

  Something had changed. The work day for Satish usually went by like a freight train. He was often surprised to find the office suddenly quiet with the cleaners knocking on his office door, and he would be the only employee left in the building. Today, however, time simply wasn’t moving. After seeing 4:45 pm on the clock for the fifth time in as many seconds, he decided it was time to get out of his office. He would go speak to Phil.

  Phil had been with Satish since his promotion to VP, and Satish relied on him as his right-hand man. He knew, though, that calling Phil a friend would be stretching the definition from the Oxford English dictionary. Phil was a workmate. They saw each other frequently—at work. They had long and engaging conversations—about work. They occasionally spoke in the evenings on the telephone—about work.

  Still, Phil continued to offer Satish glimpses of what having a real friend would feel like. He spoke to Satish about the football game over the weekend, while Satish nodded and smiled his ignorance. He sometimes tried to engage Satish in conversations about the “bachelor life,” too. Phil was a social creature; he was a great favorite around the office, and Satish often came upon him regaling his peers with tales of his raucous weekend parties. He had tried to join in once or twice in the beginning, but always came off sounding stiff and formal and had a habit of bringing a conversation to a screeching halt. He had given up.

  A part of Satish wanted to bring Phil closer to ask him about his family, tell him about his own, and even go out for a drink one night. He wasn’t quite sure how to initiate this kind of relationship, however, and he was even less sure how to sustain it. His father had always insisted that he had no time for friendships; he believed that any relationship outside the family would corrupt Satish with Western work ethics. As a consequence, he had never learned real social skills in his youth and had become accustomed to keeping his own company. His father was right: he had a duty to fulfill and nothing should distract him.

  Anyway, he needed to check the status on a few things, so he would visit Phil and then get back to his work. He grudgingly admitted to himself that he was also curious about the man’s opinions of the new girl, Claire. He had walked into his cube this morning with the intention of informing Nick’s latest conquest that she was off of the project, yet he had walked out without accomplishing that goal. To be honest, he hadn’t liked the way that conversation had proceeded, but he couldn’t put his finger on why.

  He knocked gently on the nameplate of the cube. Phil looked surprised, which wasn’t surprising. “Hi, Satish—didn’t expect to see you out of your cave today. I thought you were working on the Carlson project.”

  “I was, but I wanted to check on Nick’s project. Any progress?”

  “As a matter of fact, I was just drafting you an email about that. Did you know I had a visit from the lovely Claire this morning?” He waited for a reaction.

  Satish straightened a stack of papers on Phil’s desk—sometimes being in his chaotic environment made him anxious.

  “I… I saw her, yes. I was planning on telling her that she was off the project. We need to try to get around Nick on this one, so we can gather real, usable requirements. Otherwise, we will be persecuted for delivering a tool that doesn’t work for them.”

  “And?”

  “And something came up, so I didn’t get around to it.” He could feel Phil’s eyes on him as he continued to obsessively tidy the items on Phil’s desk, and he forced himself to shove his hands in his pockets. “I thought perhaps you might be able to inform her during a follow-up meeting that she’s not the right fit for the project. I could make another attempt at persuading Nick that we can’t meet the five-week timeline and request a new analyst, although I can’t imagine what approach I haven’t exhausted, already. When is your next meeting?”

  “Ah. Well, there is something I need to tell you, Satish.” Phil drained the last of his morning coffee and chucked his cup at the wastebasket. It missed and Phil just shrugged and left it there. “I got called for jury duty.”

  “Alright. What does that mean?”

  “It means I got called for a trial jury. The trial is expected to last about two weeks.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Phil stood and walked to pick up the empty coffee cup. He held it in his hands, twisting the plastic lid, and stood over the wastebasket. “It means I won’t be here for the next three weeks. I have jury duty.”

  Satish looked at him with confusion. “What about this project? It is the most high-profile project we have right now, and the rest of the staff members are engaged in other projects. Besides, I’m not sure I would trust anyone but you to work this one. You’ll just have to reschedule.”

  Phil laughed, “You can’t reschedule, Satish—it’s a civic duty. As long as the business analyst is decent, you could do it. All that needs to happen is oversight of the requirements, anyway, until we take over. I should be back by then. If Nick buys your arguments and decides to put on a decent analyst, all you’ll have to do is review the requirements daily to make sure they are doing their job and not just reusing the existing requirements.”

  Satish was getting a headache. He had been counting on Phil for this one. What would happen if he couldn’t persuade Nick to remove Claire from the project and provide a more experienced analyst? He would get the blame if Nick went through with his idea of handing over a worthless piece of software, but Satish had no choice but to follow the requirements the analyst provided, because that was his job.

  He sat in Phil’s chair and rubbed the frown be
tween his eyebrows. “I understand, Phil. I apologize for sounding frantic. When does this start?”

  “Tomorrow. I have another session scheduled with that pretty little Claire tomorrow. Looks like you’ll have to meet with her, instead.”

  Phil turned toward the wall to throw the cup in the wastebasket; Satish couldn’t see him smiling.

  7

  Claire

  Three hours later, Claire and Sally were sitting at their favorite table next to the window in Maxwell’s Bar. There was live music tonight, and a greasy, skinny girl was on the tiny platform stage, singing plaintively about lost love. She had a pretty voice, and Claire, having had two glasses of Chardonnay, already, was starting to feel a little weepy and sorry for herself.

  “So, spill it. Something is rotting your gut—you look like you swallowed your gum,” Sally said, looking around for their favorite waiter.

  “It’s a guy.”

  “Ooh, yummy! Tell me more! Have I kissed him?” Sally had caught Tod’s eye and winked at him.

  “Trust me, you haven’t met him.”

  “How do you know?”

  Tod was at the table in a flash. Sally had kissed him once at the end of a long, drunken evening, and poor, foolish Tod thought that meant he had a chance. What he didn’t know was that Sally would never date a waiter. She would, however, dangle the carrot of possibility to secure VIP Maxwell’s service. She had no shame.

  “Yes, my princess,” Tod gave a little bow and hand flourish while Sally extended her hand for a kiss. Claire rolled her eyes.

  “Don’t let her abuse you, Tod; you’re too nice. Go forth and find a princess who’ll appreciate you.” Claire slapped her friend’s hand down. Tod grinned and did a military pivot away from the table.

  “Bring us two of the usual before you start looking, though!” Sally called after him before turning back to Claire.

  “How do you know I haven’t met your guy?”

  “First of all, he’s not my guy. Second, if you had met him, there is no doubt in my mind that I would have heard of him. You wouldn’t be able to resist this one.”

  “Let me guess: Satish Bhatt,” she pulled a cigarette out of the pack lying on the neighboring table and smiled at the guy who owned them. He smiled back and reached for his lighter.

  “Yes,” laughed Claire. “You are something else. How did you know?”

  “I know you inside and out, darling. When I saw the state you were in when I got back from my meeting, I knew something was up—and more than just the job. I thought it was Phil Harley.”

  “Eww, no! He was creepy.”

  “Yeah, well, I figured that out pretty quickly in my conversation with Maureen, so I dug a little deeper.”

  “You were conversing with Maureen? You got her to speak?”

  “Yes—amazing, isn’t it? She was entirely forthcoming once I explained what happened to you today. Apparently, she had heard Nadia bitching about the promotion, so she cornered me on the way back from the bathroom. She seemed unusually interested. That woman really is a window into another world; we should try harder to get her to participate.”

  Maureen was a tiny, young thing and mousy in the literal sense. She was almost invisible unless she moved, and once you noticed her, you felt sure she would skitter away at any minute. No other members of the Bitch Clique paid much attention to her, and if Nadia or one of the scarier women spoke directly to her, she squeaked her replies. If she were more noticeable, they would have discussed how strange it was that she even participated in the social outings. Claire realized then that Maureen worked in IT. In fact, she had seen her today when she had walked to Phil’s office.

  “I wondered what was taking you so long at that meeting. What did she say?”

  “Well, I told her the promotion rumors were true and asked her if Phil Harley was a looker.”

  Claire collapsed onto the table in giggles and almost knocked over Tod, who had just arrived with two extra-large glasses of chardonnay. He didn’t say a word, but served the drinks, dropped a tiny piece of paper in front of Sally, and waited. Sally put the paper in the ashtray and applied the end of her cigarette to the edge. This was a Tod/Maxwell’s tradition, and he walked away.

  “That is hysterical, Sal—Phil Harley a looker! What did she say?”

  “Well, she was diplomatic. She said he was a very nice man, but she didn’t believe that anyone would find him exceptionally attractive. So, I asked who else worked in that area. She said a few names, but when she mentioned this Satish Bhatt, she blushed a deeper red than Nadia’s vampire lipstick. I knew I had hit pay dirt, so I dug a little deeper to see what I could find out about him.”

  “And?” Claire took a few large gulps of her chardonnay in an effort to appear less interested. Sally grinned.

  “Oh, no, no, no, my darling. Tit for tat. What did you learn about Satish Bhatt today that has you all in a tizzy?”

  The singing girl announced a break. It was still noisy in the bar, but the lack of the my-life-is-miserable musical accompaniment made her feel less emotional, and Claire took a deep breath.

  “I learned that he is gorgeous. I learned that he is out of my league. I learned that he more than likely thinks I am a complete idiot and rude, to boot. I learned that, according to Nick, I am not supposed to talk to him. I also learned that he has some weird effect on me that makes me think I can read minds.”

  Sally laughed, “So you didn’t learn much, then?” She put out her cigarette and leaned back into her chair with her glass of wine. “Here’s what I learned: he’s some kind of super genius—at least that’s what Maureen and the entire IT division believe. I learned that he’s super nice, which are Maureen’s wimpy words and definitely not mine, and that he doesn’t socialize outside of the office… like ever. He is very serious; polite, but distant. He doesn’t talk at all about his social life, so no one knows if he's married or not. Most people believe he isn’t, because he doesn’t wear a ring. There is a small contingent that thinks he is, which is why he’s never seen at any social functions or business events. Maureen said he’s very handsome and then she blushed. I can only imagine, but I’m having fun doing it. Is he really that good?”

  “Let me just say that, if he were in this bar right now, you wouldn’t be sitting here with me.”

  “Hmm, sounds good. Well, if you insist on not following my advice and sabotaging this whole disaster of a promotion, I think you need to worry less about not talking to him and more about impressing the pants off of him. Not literally, of course, although from what I’m hearing, you wouldn’t be against that, either.”

  Claire took another large sip of her chardonnay. It looked like she would be extending her hangover run another day. “Why impress him?”

  “According to Maureen, there are some politics going on here. Nick doesn’t like Satish, which figures. Satish is ultra-successful, well-respected, and always striving to do the right thing. Nick is not successful, not well-respected, and constantly trying to do the easy thing. Satish doesn’t make doing the easy thing easy for Nick, so they have some ongoing battle. Anyway, Maureen made it clear that, if you want to impress anyone in Telco, Satish is the one. He takes his role as a manager very seriously, and he has been known to do great things for people he believes have promise. Maureen was drooling at the fact that you had direct access to him.”

  Sally swirled her wine and waggled her eyebrows. Tod stared from across the room.

  “No offense, Sally, but that’s a ton of information that doesn’t help me at all. I still have no idea what I’m doing. I know this seems ridiculous, but I feel like I can’t let this Satish guy down. I am quite sure he won’t even remember that he met me yesterday, and I’m even more certain that he doesn’t need me to help him in any way, but I don’t know, Sal. He seemed so lost or something. It was like his eyes were almost a separate part of him, and when I looked in them, they were pleading with me for something.” She rolled her eyes at herself and blew air through her lips in disgust. �
��Gosh, maybe I need to slow down. I must be drunk.”

  “You’re babbling, again—you know that is a nasty habit of yours.” Sally reached across the table, dumped the rest of her glass of chardonnay into Claire’s glass, and pushed it toward her. “You’ll laugh at what I’m about to say if you don’t have a little more to drink.” She looked around for Tod. “I know you think that I am man crazy, and I am, but I also believe that I have to keep looking, because one of these days, the meeting story is going to happen to me.”

  “The meeting story?”

  “Yes. Whenever you talk to a happy couple, they always have a meeting story. They remember every minute and every detail of when they met. It doesn’t have to be anything drastic or mind-blowing. The point is not the circumstances or how exciting or fated it was but how much you can remember afterward. When you meet couples who can’t remember the details of how they met, or the details are a little hazy, you know they aren’t going to last long.” Sally caught Tod’s attention and blew him a kiss. She was terrible.

  “This is all very interesting, Sally, and could possibly be true, but can you tell me why we are having this discussion just now?”

  “Oh, it’s true. I know it is, because I’ve spent the last five years doing my own scientific research. A week after my parents got divorced, I asked my mom how she met my dad. She knew that they met when she went to visit her brother at college, but that was all she could remember. Ever since that day, I have been tracking meeting stories and how long the couples last. Trust me, my theory is well proven.”

  “Okay, so?”

  “Are you dense? You just told me your meeting story! So, we had better figure out what the hell a business analyst does and figure it out fast!”

  The singing girl started up a gorgeous rendition of the Indigo Girls’ “Blood and Fire.” Claire started to laugh at Sally, but her weepiness, now aided by the Indigo Girls, caught in her throat and came out as a quiet sob.