Page 42 of Tame Me

“Why would he think that?” Brandi said.

“You’ll have to ask him.”

“We did.” Mr. Nomataki spoke his first words of the meeting.

Oh, God. The excruciating silence could be cut with a chainsaw as I scrambled over how to respond. But just when I thought I’d pass out, I realized they had actually answered the question for me, and I cleared my throat. “Then you already have Mr. Karwatsky’s response.”

As the seconds dragged on, five sets of eyes tore away my lies and laid bare all my guilty layers. I was exposed.

I, Plain Jane, was a conniving, deceitful fraud who deserved whatever punishment was about to be meted out.

I was guilty—slap my handcuffs on now and toss me in a padded cell.

“He was convinced enough to bring Memphis to our attention,” Brandi said.

Bastard. That was the catalyst I needed. I worked really hard here.

Needledick, by contrast, had no commitment to his job, and it was time these people knew exactly who they’d put in charge of their hotel. “Did Mr. Karwatsky tell you about his confrontation with Memphis and her partner?”

A murmur rippled around the room, which was exactly the response I’d hoped for.

“No, he didn’t,” Richard spoke for them. “Would you care to elaborate?”

“I was returning from a jog along the beach a few weeks ago, and when I entered the lobby, a man and a woman were at reception confronting Mr. Karwatsky about how he’d treated the woman. Her name was Memphis. Apparently, Mr. Karwatsky had actually grabbed her wrist.”

One of the ladies did the tiniest of gasps, and the two of them turned their attention from me to glance at each other. The Asian man with the yellow tie, and Brandi made notes on their pads.

Richard opened his hands. “It seems John omitted to mention that. Why, then, do you think he would implicate you?”

I leaned forward, clasping my hands together. “Several months ago, I confronted Mr. Karwatsky about always being late for his shift.”

Brandi raised her eyebrows. “Always late?”

“Nearly every single day. And not just by a couple of minutes—most days he’s late by half an hour or so. I know he has an ill mother, so I understand why. But . . .” I realized I was rambling and stopped before I said something nasty. “Anyway, I don’t think he liked me standing up to him.”

“Hmmm.” Richard pushed back on his chair and steepled his fingers together. “I think we’ve heard enough.” He stood. “Thank you for your time, Jane; you must be exhausted after your long night.”

“Oh.” I couldn’t believe the meeting was over.

What about the handcuffs and the padded room? What about the public humiliation for the rest of my life?

A cloud of confusion stole my focus as I was given a harried goodbye.

Richard escorted me from the room and shut the door behind me.

As I crossed the fifty or so paces from the boardroom to the lobby, I wondered what the hell had just happened. Needledick sneered at me from behind the counter.

Did I just dodge a silver bullet?

I gave my boss dagger eyes. When he, in turn, gave me a truly triumphant sneer, I realized Needledick thought he’d won some kind of battle.

But with every step I made toward the elevator, I became more convinced that he hadn’t. In fact, whatever he’d planned had just backfired. I replayed the meeting over and over, and each time, I came to the same conclusion—whatever outcome Needledick had intended to achieve by calling the board about Memphis had totally failed.

Until now, I had never appreciated how lucky I was that I’d been hired by the human resources department of this hotel chain all those years ago.

Clearly, it meant Needledick had no authority to fire me.

By the time I entered my apartment, my mind was both exhausted and wired at the same time, and despite my need for a good sleep, resting would be impossible. Instead, I ran the bath and poured in a good slosh of Marjorie’s bubble bath. I left the taps to run and went to the kitchen in search of food.

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