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“That I’m investigating a stolen art piece. I read this article in the news the other day about fakes being sold out of museum art collections.” He waggles his eyebrows. “Juicy, isn’t it?”
“Hmm.” I think of my own art collection.
“Don’t worry. None of yours are fake.” He reads me well. “Now tell me why I’m investigating The Grand’s co-op board?”
“Because I’m getting married to someone who is about to buy a condo, and the board approval is this Friday.”
“Hello, back the truck up. What did you just say?”
“I’m getting married.” I slap Trident on the back. At my office door, I turn back. “Thanks for your congratulations.”
He gives me the finger, which makes me laugh for at least a full minute.
Chapter Four
HARLOW
It starts to rain halfway from the condo to the bus stop. The bus stop is also one of those that is just a pole and a sign. No bench, no protective overhang. It’s also a half mile away from the condo because none of those people need a bus. Their staff probably use public transport, but the residents all drive foreign cars with the fancy emblems that probably cost more than a year’s metro pass. But today the rain, the distance, the smell of my soggy wool skirt doesn’t bother me at all.
I’m not tired either despite staying up until two in the morning finishing the feasibility report for the new eco-friendly laundry scent pods our client is launching. I wanted to get the report done earlier, but I had been waiting on the other people on the team to get the supply numbers together. Numbers aren’t my forte, but after fighting with the spreadsheet application for more hours than I want to admit, I was able to put together something that made sense. None of that matters now.
I’m going to keep my grandma’s home. Sure, I have to pretend to marry some guy who lied in his dating profile, but like he said, doesn’t everyone lie? I should have lied too. Like that’s the first rule of internet safety. I was just dumb about it. Well, not dumb but not as savvy as I could have been. He was truthful when we met in person and corrected all of his previous mistruths, so it’s all good. Great, even. I wave to Jill, the receptionist, and almost skip into the break room to make myself a cup of fake cafe latté. Fake because it’s from a mix, but I’m too cheap to order a real one from the cafe downstairs.
“Why are you whistling?” Stacy, one of my coworkers, scowls at me over her mug that says I’m a bad bxtch. That’s not a misspelling. We’re not allowed to have profanities on things here.
“I didn’t realize I was.” I pull my lips inward.
“It’s Wednesday. There’s nothing to be happy about.”
Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed. I sidle past her and grab my mug and the coffee pod. Stacy keeps watching me over the top of her mug.
“Did you finish the report?”
“Yes. I’m not sure about the supply data.” If I remember correctly, it was Stacy who said she’d cover that topic.
“I can look it over for you, if you want.”
Gratitude washes over me. “Would you?”
She smiles, all irritation over my whistling gone. “Of course. Is it uploaded to the intranet?”
“Yeah. Under yesterday’s date, version 5.”
“Version 5?” She arches a perfectly manicured eyebrow.
I flush. “I struggled with the spreadsheet program.”
“I’ll look it over.” She checks her watch. “Meeting is in fifteen. I better get moving. Take your time with the coffee.”
Stacy’s not usually so nice to me. Sometimes she can even be a little, well, mean. Like one time she asked me if I was a thrifter. I said no and asked why, and she said that my outfits gave her that impression. Maybe she meant that I was creative with my clothes, but since I just generally wear navy skirts and white shirts, I didn’t think so.
I do as she suggests and take my time, lingering over my pod-made cafe latté. Impulsively, I make a second cup to take into the meeting. Usually I don’t have anything with me in the meeting, although most of the other team members do. I was always afraid I’d knock it over and ruin a proposal. I’ve only been on the job for six months, barely past my trial period, but today will be different.
I grip my mug tightly before leaving to fetch the report. Stacy waves me off. “You can go in. I’ll bring the report. I’m just finishing up a few things.”
“Cool.” I’m the second one to arrive at the meeting room. I nod toward Harry, the intern, who is plugging in the electronic whiteboard.
He doesn’t acknowledge me, but I don’t take it personally. He’s probably nervous. I hate the tech equipment and would be sweating bullets right now if I was Harry.
