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'Now I'm gonna miss my bus, and on the worst possible day. My deadbeat brother'll have hocked my TV by the time I get home.' She turned to Arnie, suddenly smiling coquettishly. 'Hey Arn, honey, any chance you could count this as overtime?'
Arnie chuckled. 'Sorry Pam, you know the rules. You can only get overtime if it comes down from the top. I may be the supervisor around here but as far as overtime goes I may as well work in the mail room.'
'Worth a shot,' Pam sighed. 'OK, go on home to your wife's cauliflower supreme, Arn. I'll close up when I'm done.'
'It's OK, I can wait. You know Grace can't cook for shit, bless her heart.'
Pam laughed, glad for the distraction. Arnie always managed to cheer her up. 'Get outta here, old man. You get home late one more time and she'll take that recipe to her sister's place, along with your kids.'
'OK, I'm goin', I'm goin'.' He pulled his jacket over the wrong arm and struggled for a moment before bumping into Pam's desk, splashing cold coffee on a pile of papers. 'Could have married a woman who loved a good steak, but nooooo. I got the one who counts my calories.'
'Count your blessings, Arn. At least you're not going home to a junky brother and an overweight cat.'
Arnie grinned and gave her a wink before walking out the door, leaving her alone in the small office. She sat back for a minute, enjoying the image of Arnie sitting his 250-pound ass down to a plate of steamed vegetables. He always bitched about the strict diet his wife forced on him, but she knew he was happy. Hungry, but happy.
Pam, though, was miserable. The ten hour shifts she worked in this cold, cramped office were far from the life she'd imagined when she first moved to the city. She'd dreamed of working her way up through the company, kicking ass and taking names until she finally got herself an eye watering salary and a corner office on the 45th floor. Instead her career ladder had turned out to be missing a few rungs. After eight years at the company she was still stuck on 12, transcribing minutes from meetings held by people who didn't even know she existed.
It was, in every sense, a pointless job. Nobody ever read her work. In fact it wasn't even uploaded to the network. Most of her transcriptions were held right here on her computer, and weeks could go by without a request for a copy. Not only was her salary barely enough to pay the rent on a studio apartment in a bad part of town but it didn't even provide job security. She expected any day that someone in accounting would finally realize she wasn't needed. It was terrifying.
Twenty minutes later she was finally finished correcting her mistakes, as if it mattered. She saved the file on her hard drive and sent a project confirmation to Records. If anyone wanted a copy she'd get a release request from them, but she never held her breath. The only reason to stay so late to get the job done was that if she didn't she'd get calls and emails from at least five superiors in the morning to scold her for falling behind.
The hallways were empty now. It was almost seven, and nobody worked late in this part of the building. Their jobs just weren't important enough to require it. Pam flipped off the light switch and locked the office behind her before heading to the elevator bank at the far end of the corridor. All three were down at the ground floor but she noticed the executive elevator was heading down. It was at 15 now, and on an impulse she pressed the call button.
Staff on the floors below 25 weren't supposed to use the executive elevator. It was an express reserved for the higher ups, but Pam knew her floor wasn't locked out. Every once in a while an executive would need to make the trip down to 12. She could always recognize them in their expensive suits, walking quickly through the halls as if terrified their silk ties would transform into polyester if they spent too much time down in the ghetto.
The elevator drew to a halt and a tone beeped. Just as the doors began to open Pam panicked, realizing that the car would probably be occupied. She considered for a moment jumping out of the way, hiding behind a pot plant until the doors closed, but it was too late. Whoever was inside could already see her, standing there awkwardly in her cheap thrift store skirt and blouse looking like a kid playing dress up with her mom's clothes.
'Going down?' The man leaning casually against the back wall of the elevator raised an eyebrow and looked at her imploringly. For a moment Pam was struck dumb. The occupant of the elevator was a man she'd seen only twice before, but he'd made a starring appearance in her dreams countless times since. Tall, well built and blessed with a granite jaw the stranger had seemed, the first time she saw him stalking the halls, as if he'd just stepped out of a casting session for the latest Superman movie.
Stepbrother Forbidden (Stepbrother, Where Art Thou? Book 2) Page 6
