Kill the Competition

by Stephanie Bond

  She ducked back in the vending room and darted behind the Coke machine. She peeked around the corner, praying the man wouldn’t be assailed by a sudden thirst. At length, he walked by, whistling to himself, which made it easier to whistle when women walked by. The man was oblivious to his baseness.

  “Hiding from someone?” a familiar male voice said behind her.

  Chapter 17

  Belinda jerked around, sloshing Coke, and almost fell into Wade Alexander, who leaned against the soda machine, arms crossed over his uniformed chest. “No. I…” She straightened. “Yes, if you must know, I’m hiding from my neighbor.”

  “Why?” He fought a smile, which made her feel ridiculous.

  “Because…he’s a kook.” Unlike her, of course.

  “Ah.” He stepped out to look down the food court. “Which one is he?”

  “Hard hat. Toolbox.”

  “Whistling at women?”

  “That would be him.”

  “Want me to shoot him?”

  She pushed her tongue into her cheek. “No, Lieutenant.”

  He scratched his temple. “I thought we’d graduated to first names.”

  Her neck itched, and Libby’s comment about her getting splotchy around the man rang in her ears. “It’s, um…the uniform,” she said, indicating the snug-fitting, imposing attire that outlined his powerful physique to perfection. “It’s hard for me to think of you as anything else when you’re dressed.” She coughed. “Like that.”

  “So if I wasn’t dressed?” His smile widened. “Like this?”

  She squinted. “What are you doing here?”

  “Looking for you, actually.”

  “What did I do this time?”

  “Nothing, I hope. A buddy of mine heads up security in this building. He called me to report an incident at Archer—some guy forced his way into a woman’s office?”

  She nodded. “I was there.”

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  She smirked. “I was meeting with my boss, and the man interrupted us.”

  “Was he armed?”

  “I didn’t see a weapon.”

  “Was anyone hurt?”

  “No. I thought he might attack her, but then he sort of broke down.”

  One dark eyebrow arched. “Crying?”

  “My boss has that effect on people.”

  “The report said the guy was a former employee.”

  She nodded. “But he was let go before I came here. My boss alluded to him being fired for a drug problem.”

  “Was he high when you saw him?”

  “I couldn’t tell, but he was disheveled. And on edge.”

  “So what happened to our agreement?”

  “Agreement?”

  “That you would call me if anything unusual happened.”

  “Oh. I guess I…forgot.” She frowned, and gestured around the vending room. “So how did you find me here?”

  “I’m trained to spot suspicious-looking people. When I saw a woman hiding behind vending machines, then playing peekaboo, I thought I should investigate.” He lifted his gaze to her head. “Especially when I saw the red hair. By the way, what happened to the rest of it?”

  “I like my hair like this.”

  “Then so do I.”

  She nodded in a vague “away” direction. “I should be getting back to work.”

  “Me too. But you’ll call me if anything else happens?”

  Belinda angled her head. “Does your interest in Archer have anything to do with Jeanie Lawford’s accident?”

  He had a poker face. “An incident like that puts the company on the police radar.”

  “So you’re just doing your job?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Belinda smiled. “Good-bye, Lieutenant.” She turned to go.

  “Hey.”

  She turned back.

  “I see you’re drinking the good stuff.”

  She glanced down at the Diet Coke can she held. A flush warmed her face. “The Pepsi machine wasn’t working.”

  Next to him, a young man dropped coins into the Pepsi machine, pushed a button, and a can rolled out.

  Wade looked back to her.

  “Gotta go,” she said and walked away as fast as she could. At the door to the stairwell, she looked back through the crowd and saw Lieutenant Good—er, Lieutenant Alexander still watching her. He was not smiling, and she was struck with the illogical desire to restore his cheerfulness. She lifted her can in a salute, then turned toward the stairs. The man was an enigma, and the last thing she needed in her life right now was more complications.

  By the time she reached the eighth floor, she attributed her skittery mood to the events of the day, and her pounding pulse to the exertion. But the impromptu encounter with Wade Alexander had reminded her that she needed to call for the estimate on her car repairs. On the way back to her desk, she stopped by the ladies’ room.

  It was impossible for her to walk into the tiled room without remembering the episode between her and Margo only a week ago. It seemed as if much more time had passed, because so many things had happened in the space of seven days. She set her soda on the counter, then stopped at the sound of sniffling coming from the one closed stall door. She looked down and recognized Libby’s red-and-black stiletto pumps.

  Belinda shot a glance back to the entrance and considered giving the woman privacy. Chances were, whatever was wrong, she wouldn’t be able to help anyway. But when another tearful snuffle sounded, her shoulders fell in defeat, and she walked over to the metal door. “Libby, it’s Belinda. Are you okay?”

  Libby emitted a tremulous exhale. “I decided to come in here, since my life is going down the crapper.”

  Biting back a smile, Belinda asked, “Do you want to talk about it?”

  The door opened. Libby stood there, wiping her red nose with a tissue. “Come on in.”

  Belinda balked. “Well, I—”

  Libby clasped her arm, hauled her inside the stall, and closed the door. Belinda squirmed at the proximity. The stall was roomy as far as bathroom stalls were concerned, but still. Libby blew her nose into a wad of toilet tissue, then dropped it in the commode with what looked like enough paper to do some serious pipe damage.

  “My life is a disaster,” she said, her eyes overflowing anew. “I’m in debt over my head, my husband is furious with me, my kids are belligerent, and Margo just told me that my performance over the past year ‘doesn’t warrant a raise.’ ” She blew her nose again. “Oooh! That woman makes me so furious. She didn’t give Carole a raise either, and Rosemary’s in there now.”

  Uncertain what to do, Belinda reached out and patted Libby’s arm awkwardly. “Everything will work out.”

  Libby shook her head. “You know my friend in HR?”

  “I remember you mentioning her.”

  “Well, she can’t reveal any specifics, but she hinted that our personnel numbers were going to be reduced.”

  “And you think Rosemary is going to lose her job?”

  Libby nodded tearfully. “And here I am, feeling guilty because I’m glad it wasn’t me.”

  Belinda patted her again. “You shouldn’t feel guilty for wanting to keep your job. And even if Rosemary is let go, she’ll land on her feet.”

  Libby took a deep breath and nodded. “I just hate to think that she’d have to deal with unemployment if she’s sick, too.”

  “You don’t know that.”

  “I guess we’ll find out this evening.”

  Belinda tried to smile. “Maybe Rosemary’s seeing some dashing gentleman that she doesn’t want anyone to know about.”

  Libby smiled. “Could be. I guess I’m not helping anything by standing in the john blubbering.”

  The door to the ladies’ room opened and someone walked in. Belinda cringed, hoping the person wouldn’t notice two sets of legs in the stall. Silence abounded. And either the person didn’t notice and changed their mind about whatever they’d come in for, or they did not
ice and decided they didn’t want to stick around. Quick footsteps sounded on the tile floor, then the door opened and closed.

  Belinda and Libby looked at each other and started laughing. An alien sense of camaraderie flooded Belinda. She couldn’t do anything to help Libby’s situation except offer a sympathetic ear, but apparently, sometimes a sympathetic ear was enough. Funny, but she had always subscribed to the theory of not sharing her feelings with people unless they were part of a concrete solution. Now she wondered how many things she’d internalized over the years, when the simple act of unburdening herself might have been beneficial.

  “At least your evaluation went well,” Libby said, wiping her eyes. “And I suppose that Margo can’t fire all of us. Oh—you have to tell me all about Jim Newberry!”

  “Later, when we’re playing private eye. Right now I need to get back to my desk.”

  “Me too.” Libby reached forward and squeezed Belinda’s hand. “Thanks, Belinda.”

  Startled, Belinda squeezed back after a half beat. “You’re welcome. Now get out of here so I can relieve myself.”

  Libby laughed. “See you later.”

  Guilt plagued Belinda all the way back to her cubicle. While Libby and Carole had been denied even cost-of-living raises and Rosemary’s job appeared to be in true jeopardy, she’d just been awarded the position and the salary of her dreams. Would the girls resent her when they found out?

  The thought jarred her because it made her realize that she did care what the women thought of her, that she wanted to forge a real friendship with the motley crew, despite their idiosyncrasies and their faults. And hers. Margo was simply going to have to live with it. Belinda smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear. That, and her trendy do.

  When she arrived back at her cubicle, she called the auto repair shop. Carole’s husband’s cousin recited a number that left her a bit breathless, but he promised to work her in the next day if she could bring the Honda in before lunch. She said she would, jotted a note to herself to ask Margo about taking the day off, and asked if he accepted credit cards.

  She hung up, reminding herself that her raise would be forthcoming when Margo returned from Hawaii. The paperwork would probably take a couple of weeks, and then, heck, she might buy a new car.

  But the idea didn’t cheer her as much as it should have. In fact, the thought was a gut check because, she realized, lately all roads seemed to lead back to the deal she’d struck with Margo. She massaged her temples. And as much as she wanted to believe she could maintain her independence, and her friends, hadn’t she simply given Margo more leverage to manipulate her?

  What would the woman ask her to do next? Look the other way here, fudge a little there. Stretch, exaggerate, embellish. And to what end—personal wealth at the expense of personal worth?

  She sat and mulled the big fat mess she’d gotten herself into. As the last hour of the workday clicked away on her digital clock, she felt as if the time was expiring on her integrity. Meanwhile, her blood pressure climbed higher and higher as the potential fallout of a bad deal unfolded in her mind. People’s jobs were at stake, people who had more time and energy invested in the two companies than she. Her mind raced for a way out that would preserve the momentum of the deal. Margo had said the Payton contracts had been signed but not yet mailed. Belinda still had time to stop the process until everything could be analyzed more in-depth. She could offer to do the research while Margo was on vacation. The deal didn’t have to be terminated, just postponed. And no one even had to know—the delay could simply be attributed to Margo’s vacation.

  She inhaled deeply, then puffed out her cheeks. Lesson learned—she was going to have to ease into this taking chances thing. Meanwhile, she would count herself lucky that she wasn’t too late to make things right. She picked up the phone and dialed Margo’s office. Brita answered.

  “Is Margo available?” Belinda asked.

  “Ms. Campbell is still here, but she asked not to be disturbed.”

  “I’ll come over and wait until she’s finished,” Belinda said.

  “That might be a while,” Brita chirped.

  Belinda pursed her mouth. “Still.” Then she frowned—was she parroting Wade Alexander?

  “Suit yourself.” Then the woman hung up.

  Belinda checked her watch—5:20. Libby and Carole would be expecting her to join them soon. She’d simply send them on with her car and find another way home. No way was she leaving before she got things straightened out with Margo. She was determined to sleep tonight.

  Libby was packing up her desk when Belinda rapped on the outside panel.

  The woman looked up and smiled. “Are you ready? It’s early, but we have time to get a lottery ticket before we you know.”

  “Um, I’ve had a change of plans.” She held up her keys and was mortified to see her hand shaking. “Would you mind driving Carole home and leaving my car at your place? I’ll be over later to pick it up.”

  From the look on Libby’s face, Belinda knew the woman thought she was pulling back, that she’d decided not to be involved in the messy details of friendship. “How will you get to my house?”

  “I’ll ride MARTA and take a taxi or…something. Libby, I wouldn’t ask if this wasn’t important.”

  “Okay,” Libby said, still clearly confused. “I could stop back by and pick you up after the you know.”

  “You don’t even know where you’re going. And I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

  “Good gravy, what’s wrong? You look…splotchy. Did Officer Goodbody drop by?”

  “No—yes.” Belinda stopped and issued a calming breath. “Never mind him. I need to see Margo about a couple of things.”

  “Yeah, well whack her once for me, will you?”

  Belinda frowned. “I’ll see you later.”

  Her heart thudded faster, but her steps were sure as she approached Margo’s office. It was the right thing to do, the responsible thing to do. What kind of a CFO would she be if her first key decision was based on less than accurate financial information? She was astounded and dismayed with herself that she’d ever thought she could do anything less. She might have left her heart in Cincinnati, but thankfully, her scruples had tagged along.

  Brita was sitting at her desk reading. She frowned at Belinda over her glasses. “She’s on the telephone.”

  “I’ll wait.” Belinda set her purse, briefcase and raincoat on a credenza and took in the view of Midtown from the reception window. With a jolt, she realized this window was above the spot where the plant had nearly slain her. Cold fear gripped her, and she glanced around, looking for a telltale circle on the carpet where a plant might have been. Nada. But she had managed to gain Brita’s attention.

  “Nice plants,” Belinda commented casually, gesturing to the intermittent foliage.

  “We have a service,” Brita said dryly.

  Belinda pursed her mouth, then turned back to the view. Rush hour was in full swing, but police officers were stationed at strategic intersections to keep things moving. She wondered where Lieutenant Alexander was at this moment, but she willed her thoughts elsewhere lest she fall into the habit of thinking about the man. Instead, she passed the time flipping through furniture catalogs and thinking about her luscious leather couch.

  Forty minutes later, Brita cleared her throat. “Ms. Campbell is off the phone, I’ll tell her you’re here.” The woman punched a button on the phone. “Belinda is waiting to see you, Ms. Campbell.” She set down the receiver and gave Belinda a bland smile while retrieving her own umbrella and purse. “She said she can’t see you. Goodnight.”

  Belinda stood. “But I have to see her.”

  “No,” Brita said sternly. “Ms. Campbell has been through enough today. Whatever it is, it’ll have to wait until she returns from vacation.”

  “This can’t wait.” Belinda walked toward Margo’s office door, sidestepping Brita’s attempt to block her path with a red-and-white-striped umbrella. She rapped on the door,
then opened it. “Excuse me, Margo. I need to talk to you before you leave.”

  “Ms. Campbell,” Brita said. “I’m sorry—she insisted.”

  Margo sat at her desk, her hands on her computer keyboard. “You may go, Brita.” When the door closed, she sighed. “Can’t it wait, Belinda? I’m swamped here.”

  “No, I’m sorry, it can’t.” Belinda took a deep breath. “Margo, I’m still not comfortable with those questions on the Payton financials that I gave you the morning we presented to the board. Before the contracts are mailed, I’d like the chance to dig deeper into the numbers. Just to be sure.”

  Margo rubbed her forehead. “Belinda, we’ve been over this.”

  “But—”

  Margo brought her hand down on her desk in an explosive smack. “We made a deal, remember?”

  Belinda’s stomach bottomed out. “Yes. B-but that was a mistake.”

  Margo’s eyes narrowed. “I thought you were made of stronger stuff.”

  Belinda’s skin tingled. The urge to buckle under the direct challenge was overwhelming. “My conscience demands that I revisit the figures.”

  A dry laugh escaped her boss. “In business, if you don’t have a penis, you can’t afford to have a conscience. The sooner you realize that, Belinda, the better.”

  Belinda inhaled and tried a different tack. “You hired me because I’m a top-notch numbers woman. Let me do my job.”

  Margo looked back to her keyboard and resumed typing. “You did your job. Now go home and celebrate with your roving reporter.”

  Belinda let the barb pass, then lifted her chin. “I won’t change my mind.”

  Margo sat back in her seat and regarded Belinda with a level gaze. Her long black cherry nails tapped on her desk. Plap, plap, plap.

  Belinda’s mind flew ahead. If her boss refused to hold the contracts, then what? Was she prepared to contact Juneau Archer and jeopardize both their jobs, not to mention the entire acquisition? Her pulse thudded in her ears, and all moisture vanished from her mouth. The tension in the air whined.

  “Okay,” Margo said, lifting her hands. “I’ve waited long enough for this deal to fall into place, I guess another couple of weeks won’t matter. But I want you to wait until I return, and we’ll go over everything together.”