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“Anyway, she’s got no experience and no MBA,” I lamented.
“Maybe she’s better than you think.”
The waiter interrupted with our plates.
My kung pao chicken smelled delicious.
The broccoli beef on his plate was the same as always: boring.
Larry spooned some rice onto his plate and offered it to me. “Give her some time and see how she does.”
“I don’t have the time to find out. I’m going to see to it that she hates the job and wants to move back downstairs.”
Larry thought about that for another few bites. “How?”
“Easy. I’ll be the impossible boss.”
He shrugged. “Not like it’s hard for you.”
* * *
Jennifer
It wasa few minutes before two when I closed the final folder of the Talbot paperwork tower Cindy had brought me. My brain swam with numbers, contracts, and a million details.
How had he ever expected me to absorb all this in one day and go into the meeting prepared? I knew he hadn’t. He counted on me not finishing, not being prepared, and not knowing what was in these. He expected me to make a fool of myself and prove I wasn’t ready. He expected a quick exit from Mahogany Row for me.
I felt the smooth, cool, real-wood surface of the table I sat at and looked over my shoulder at the cityscape out my window—my top-floor office window.
Screw him. He wasn’t getting an easy win today.
I pushed away the carton of Chinese I’d barely had time to touch. Twisting the top off my Diet Coke bottle, I wet my parched mouth with two gulps. A quick time check showed I had just enough time for a trip to the bathroom before the meeting.
The restroom door seemed heavier than the one downstairs, but that was probably my imagination. Inside, I almost dropped my purse. The difference was stark. The sinks were set into a granite counter, and the stalls weren’t the standard beige, airport-style metal structures found on my floor. Here, solid-wood partitions provided the elegant privacy top-floor ladies deserved while they peed. Everything about life on the top floor was evidently different.
After washing up and refreshing my lip gloss, I was ready to learn what a signing meeting was all about.
As I approached, four men were standing about between Cindy’s desk and the conference room door, which was open—the Talbot team, apparently.
I ducked into my office to grab a pad of paper and my phone. It had a good calculator and was better than doing things in my head.
I put on my brave face and approached the group. I stopped at Cindy’s desk, unsure if I should introduce myself.
The oldest among them looked at me. “Honey, I’ll take a coffee. Two sugars.”
I froze.
“Gentlemen, you can set up in the conference room,” Cindy said. “Mr. Benson will join you as soon as he’s off the phone.”
The group followed Mr. Coffee through the door.
“I’ll get it,” Cindy said to me. “Wait for Dennis and go in with him. It may be a few minutes.” She headed off to the coffee room. I’d stumbled upon it on my way to the bathroom.
Glancing at her desk, I noticed neither of Dennis’s phone lines were lit.
I laid my things down, my phone on top, and headed back for my Diet Coke in case I needed the caffeine. After finishing most of the bottle and releasing a quick burp, I was back at Cindy’s desk.
She pointed at my phone. “You got a message while you were gone.”
