by Melissa Good
Dar looked at her. “The kitchen. Yes or no?”
A blonde brow lifted. “You have a kitchen in here? Let me guess, it comes with a microprocessor that cooks things for you, right?” She saw Dar’s lips twitch again and smiled herself. “Okay, okay. Sure. I’d love some coffee.”
“Cream and sugar?”
Kerry sighed. “If I’m being good, I should say no and no, but I hate the taste of coffee, so yes and yes.”
Dar snorted softly and disappeared.
The blonde turned her attention to the monitor, but not before she looked around, taking in the huge office with wondering eyes. The desk was smooth wood, its surface covered with reports as her own had been. The carpet was a thick burgundy, and there was a long, low-slung couch to the right. The entire back wall was glass, and looked out over the bay to the ocean, right now showing the brilliant flashes of lightning and the thick swaths of rain that lashed against the clear surface.
It smelled of wood polish and wool from the carpet, with a faint hint of the perfume she’d noticed that Dar wore. That the shirt wrapped around her body also bore. She decided she liked it.
Dar came back a moment later, bearing two steaming cups and a small kit tucked under her arm. She put one of the cups down in front of Kerry and perched on the edge of her desk, tucking one leg up under her and leaning forward to point at the monitor. “That’s the problem right there.” She traced a column. “Watch what happens when I plug in your scenario.” She did so, and the numbers changed. “I can’t have…” a fingertip pointed at the last field,
“…that.”
58 Melissa Good Kerry took a sip of the coffee, then peered at it. “What is this?” She licked her lips. “Mmm.”
“Café con leche,” Dar answered absently. “Cuban coffee with milk and sugar.”
“Hell.” Kerry laughed. “If they’d served it to me like this, I’d have drunk it more often.”
They spent an hour going over the various approaches, and Kerry got a much better understanding of what it was Dar was trying to do. “Oh, god, you have to show this all as an expense?” She pointed at her section. “But you can’t show any of this as a profit, because it’s past date?”
“Right.” Dar sighed, biting on the edge of her cup.
Kerry sat back, stunned. “But that’s not fair!” she protested.
Dar closed her eyes momentarily and rubbed them. “I know,” she agreed wearily. “But it’s the law.”
“What happens if you don’t make that number?” Kerry pointed at the last field.
Dar peered at the screen, blinking. “Well, we don’t show consistent growth, and the stockholders go ballistic. That means we have to show austerity measures, and that…usually means a minimum level layoff.”
Kerry thought about that. “How many people is that?”
“Between five to seven thousand,” the executive replied quietly.
Green eyes lifted to hers. “Just like that?” Dar nodded. Kerry absorbed that. “So I guess my piddly little two hundred and thirty people are kind of a minor thing,” she commented softly, as she looked up at Dar. “Nothing personal, right?”
Dar’s lips tensed, and she looked down. “Usually, yes,” she admitted.
“You don’t like to waste resources, but,” one bare shoulder lifted in a shrug,
“sometimes you just have to do what you have to do.”
Kerry studied the screen, flipping through the twelve different scenarios Dar had been working with. All save one included her solution. She let her hand rest on Dar’s knee, searching her face intently. “I didn’t understand,”
she stated quietly. “And I still don’t, not really, but thanks for trying.”
Dar glanced at her watch. “Eleven thirty. I’ve got to update this before midnight.” She stared at the screen. “Damn, I just wish I could…” She traced a column with one finger. “Some way to put a plus there.”
“Mmmm.” Kerry examined the fields. “Like you can with that Miami group—because they take on outside stuff, so you can offset their expenses.”
Dar froze, only her pale blue eyes darting across the wide screen.
“Mierda,” she whispered. “Can your people do internet support? TCP/IP?”
“Uh…um, what? Yeah, of course.” Kerry stared at her. “The entire support group runs on an intranet. We’ve got three resident webmasters. But what…” She yelped, and hurriedly got out of the way as Dar dove into her seat, her fingers racing across the keyboard in a rattle of keys.
“Son of a bitch. Son of a bitch…” the executive cursed softly. “Where are you… Ah!” She requested a screen and scanned its contents. “Gotcha.” One hand reached over and punched a series of numbers into the phone pad. It rang three times, then a voice answered. “Hello, Peter.”
Frozen silence preceded, “What the hell do you want?”
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“I’m taking those two extra contracts,” Dar informed him. “Don’t bother protesting. Goodnight.” She hung up and hummed under her breath as she recoded the projects, giving them a new classification. A few clicks, then she drummed her fingers, waiting for the mainframe to redraw the columns.
“Ahhh…” One hand snaked out, cutting a range out and clicking over to her spreadsheet, then pasting. She recalced the document, then sat back and smiled in triumph.
Kerry just watched her, confused.
Dar pointed at the last field. “I got my number.”
The blonde woman studied the sheet. “But that’s got our stuff in it.”
“Uh hum,” Dar agreed. “It sure does.”
“How did you do that?” Kerry asked, entranced by the smile that now transformed the executive’s face, the smile which now grew broader.
“I made fifty percent of your staff a profit center and awarded them two major government support contracts.” Dar folded her arms over her chest in visible satisfaction.
“Really?” Kerry blinked in surprise. “Can you do that?”
A dark brow edged up. “I just did it.” Dar grinned, then she sobered.
“You’ll still have to make those cuts.” She made several rapid-fire keystrokes, then hit the Transmit key. “It’s done.”
Kerry blinked. “But everyone else gets to stay?”
Dar nodded. “I got your list of people to transition. I think it’s here…”
“I’m not on it.” Kerry said very quietly.
Dar froze, then stared at her. “What?”
Kerry exhaled. “One of me…was worth two of them. I couldn’t take two slots.” She looked up at Dar.
“One of you is worth a lot more than two of them,” Dar blurted indignantly, then almost knocked the phone off the desk when it rang. She punched the button in irritation. “Yeah?”
Kerry slowly sat down on the edge of the desk, watching Dar’s profile with an unfathomable expression.
“Just got the update, Dar. Spectacular.” Alastair’s cheerful voice grated on her like beach sand. “Great job. What do I owe you for this one? You going to finally take me up on using the chalet and taking a damn vacation for once?”
Dar stared at the phone in frustrated silence. “What do you owe me?” she finally asked. “I’ll tell you what, I want fifty-one six-and-sixes, and a head.”
Alastair was stunned. She could hear him coughing a little.
“Wh…”
“You heard me,” the tall woman stated. “Come on, Alastair. That double digit’s going to add twenty percent value to the stock. You can afford it.”
“Well, sure, Dar. I’ll put in the six-and-sixes…but what do you need a head for?” Alastair finally replied, collecting himself. “Whose orgid?”
“Mine,” Dar replied quietly. “I’ve been forty-eight hours without sleep on this one, Alastair. I can’t keep doing this. It’s killing me. I need an assistant.”
The man’s attitude changed immediately. “Well, why didn’t you just say so, you old pirate? I’ve been trying to get you to take on an
assistant for years now.” The sound of a keyboard being accessed came through clearly. “For 60 Melissa Good more than a day, that is. You had me worried there for a minute. Hang on…hang on. What are you, a 54010?”
“Uh huh.” Dar replied, playing with pen. “Thanks.”
“Done.” Alastair chuckled. “On your work list, baby. Now I’m gonna go have a glass of champagne. You should too.”
Dar closed her eyes wearily. “Sure, Alastair.” She sighed. “ ’Night.”
Silence settled over the office. Dar kept her eyes closed.
“Forty-eight hours?” Kerry finally said in disbelief. The dark-haired woman nodded. “That’s insane. That isn’t a job, that’s involuntary servitude,”
Kerry spluttered. Dar nodded again. “You must have the world’s best job security, you know that? Nobody in their right mind would want your job.”
A third nod. “Very true.” Dar opened her eyes and gazed at Kerry regretfully. “You ready to go home, Ms. Stuart?” she asked quietly. “We can negotiate your headcount on Monday. I’m sure I can squeeze you back in there.” She paused. “If you want to stay, that is.”
Kerry was perched on the edge of the desk, deep in thought. “I don’t know,” she replied honestly. “I have to think about it.”
“I understand,” Dar said, as she pushed herself to her feet.
“Ms. Roberts?”
“Mmm?”
“What is a six-and-six?” Kerry asked curiously.
“Oh.” Dar stretched a kink out of her neck. “Severance packages for your people.” She sighed. “Six months’ salary and six months’ extension on your health benefits.” Her eyes searched Kerry’s shocked face. “Should make Monday a little easier for you.” She stepped around the desk and started out the door. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”
Kerry was in a daze as she followed Dar out. Six months’ salary? If she decided not to stay, it would give her half a year to find something…and six months’ health benefits would cover her until she did. Her parents would never have to know, until she was all settled in a new place.
Her eyes studied the cloth-covered back of the woman walking before her. She wondered how she had gone from how she’d felt about Dar Roberts before the sunset, to how she felt now. It felt like the night had lasted half a lifetime, to allow her to experience so much in such a short span. She’d gone from despair, to anger, to terror; from a frustrated hatred to a grudging admiration, all in one evening.
Did she want to remain in charge of Associated Synergenics? She’d been doing it for two years, and was just starting to get comfortable. The routine was becoming regular, almost…boring. She suspected life would never be boring around Dar Roberts. And suddenly, she knew that’s exactly where she wanted to be. She didn’t even stop to wonder why.
“So,” she trotted after the tall executive, catching up to her as they reached the door, “what exactly are these other contracts?”
“Oh.” Dar pushed the door open. “You’ll be supporting the IRS.”
Kerry stopped dead. “You’re joking.”
Pale blue eyes regarded her. “Can’t be. I don’t have a sense of humor, remember?” Dar replied, deadpan. “Goodnight, Jack.” She waved at the security guard. She held the door to the Lexus open. “Ms. Stuart?”
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The blonde woman stepped next to her and peered up. “Could you please call me Kerry?” she asked with a wry smile. “You sound like the librarian at my college when you call me by my last name.”
Dar’s expression softened momentarily, and a quick smile transformed her face. “I thought only your friends called you that,” she demurred.
Kerry rubbed her jaw. “Well, friends and people who save my life—you know.” She felt herself blushing a little. “I have to make an exception for that sort of thing.”
“All right,” the executive agreed softly. “But only if you call me Dar.”
Kerry smiled. “Deal.” She shook her head a little. “You know, you’re not really as awful as I thought you were.”
“Oh really?” Dar found herself too tired to be aggravated by the words.
“I’m losing my touch then. Maybe I should go find some puppies to kick.”
“It’s a little late for that, isn’t it?”
Dar had a feeling it was far too late for a lot of things. “Probably.” She indicated the car. “Let’s get out of here while we’ve got a break in the weather.”
“Sounds like a good idea to me.” Kerry climbed up into the comfort of the leather seat, and waited for Dar to join her on the driver’s side. “So,” she folded her hands in her lap, “what does your assistant do?”
As she shifted and started to pull out into the rain, Dar shot her a quick look. “I don’t know. I never had one before that lasted more than a week.” She paused. “It’ll probably be a tough, unpleasant, thankless, wild ride.”
Kerry sniffed reflectively, then buckled the safety belt securely around herself and settled back, folding her arms over her chest and glancing sideways. She found Dar looking back at her. They drove on into the night.
Chapter
Seven
THE ALARM WAS buzzing, an annoying sound in any event, and more so because it was a Saturday morning and she’d forgotten to turn it off. In the dim light, one blue eye appeared, glared at the device, then a hand shot out from the covers and clobbered the clock, sending it flying from the bedside table and unplugging it.
“Yeow.” Dar cursed and grabbed her hand, rolling up onto her other elbow and wincing as she examined her knuckles. The entire back of her hand was swollen and discolored, and she dropped back down onto the pillows as she recalled how it got that way. “Forgot about that,” she mumbled, closing her eyes again.
She’d forgotten how hard the human skull was, and how much it hurt if a fist without any protection hit it head on. Not, she reflected, that I would have chosen any differently even if I had remembered. She didn’t regret the damage she’d done to that one of Kerry’s attackers, or the rest of them, for that matter.
She’d used kicks for the rest, though. Infinitely easier on the body. But for now she could barely close her fist, and she knew it was going to be a couple of days before that improved. “Hey, look, Dad,” she whispered to the ceiling, holding her hand up. “I’m a half-assed hero again. Imagine that.”
It was damn lucky for Kerry that she’d been so close. She’d driven out to Haulover Park to the north and spent a half hour just roaming aimlessly up and down the boardwalk, watching the young kids in their puppy loves go past. She’d actually been getting off on the 2nd street exit when Kerry had called, intent on stopping at Bayside for some ice cream before she headed back to the office to finish up. Instead of ice cream she’d gotten trouble, a sore hand, a last-minute financial brainstorm, and… Her mind conjured up a picture of Kerry’s slim form, swaddled in a too-large sweatshirt, standing at her car window as she dropped the younger woman off. She’d put a hand on Dar’s arm, and squeezed it.
“I’ll bring the shirt back to you on Monday, thanks for letting me borrow it.”
Dar had waved her off, a little embarrassed. “Keep it. I’ve got dozens and dozens of them…believe me.” She’d glanced around, seeing the Mustang parked nearby, its window neatly taped. “You going to be all right with that?”
The green eyes had followed hers, and Kerry had sighed. “Yeah, one of the guys here works in an auto body shop. He’s a pretty good friend of mine.”
Then she’d looked up and taken a breath. “Thanks for coming to my rescue, and I’m glad the whole thing worked out okay.”
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Dar had smiled. “Me too.” She’d patted Kerry’s arm. “Get some rest, I’ll talk to you on Monday.”
And that had been that. She’d driven away, checking her rear view mirror a few times just to make sure Kerry had gotten inside okay, and put herself on auto-pilot for the long, rainy drive home .
Now she listened, and
heard the patter of rain outside still, and tucked her arm under her pillow with a satisfied grunt . No running today. Today was just time to snuggle into the warmth of the waterbed, pull the covers up, and catch up on some much-needed sleep. She was just drifting off again when the phone rang again.
Dar sighed. “No one’s home.” It continued ringing, and she finally reached over, and hit the speakerphone button. “Yeah?”
“Good morning, Dar.” The voice sounded complacently pleased.
“What do you want at six AM Dukky?” Dar muttered. “I sent the updates last night.”
“Oh, I know.” The smile was audible. “I just wanted to compliment you on some really brilliant financial footwork there.”
“At six AM?” Dar sighed. “You could have sent me an e-mail.”
“Actually, that’s why I’m calling. The word’s out you’ve asked for an assistant for yourself.” Duks said. “Mariana has gotten four inquiries already.
When you do, um, wake up, would you please send her over exactly what you’re looking for before the poor lady gets swamped?”
Dar let her eyes open sleepily. “Duks, it’s only been posted for six goddamn hours,” she protested. “I didn’t think I was that popular.”
The VP chuckled wryly. “I hate to break this to you, my friend, but you’re not. Everyone’s convinced this means you’re vacating that corner office, and they want a shot at it.” He cleared his throat. “Especially since the posting came from Alastair’s personal logon.”
“That’s not what it means, for crying…” Dar groaned. “Jesus, Duks, I just asked for a little help, that’s all. I wanted an assistant, not a replacement.”
A small silence. “You don’t do that often,” Duks replied slowly. “You have anyone in particular in mind, Dar?”
Now it was Dar’s turn to be silent. “I don’t know,” she finally said.
“Maybe.”
“Mmm.” The accountant acknowledged the unspoken information. “Be careful, Dar, that could be a dangerous position for you. Pick someone who’s not going to immediately stab you in the back.” He cleared his throat. “It doesn’t pay to let people get on the inside, you know?”
