Page 87 of Two Guys, a Girl, and a Tripod

“I’m going to smack you.”

“My safe word is cucumber.”

A few minutes after Miles heads out, my phone buzzes with a text from Mel–a reminder of our standing lunch date. She does it every month and I’ve never known if it was a test, but I haven’t canceled in over nine years. I’m not about to start now.

I take the route I know well, down to Marina del Rey. The restaurant where I meet Mel once a month is nestled inside a luxury hotel. I’m not sure why she prefers this place. I’ve never asked, but they typically have a good menu with a lot of locally sourced ingredients as well as seasonal cocktails that she enjoys.

When I walk into the restaurant, the hostess glances up at me before continuing to organize the menus in front of her. I’ve seen her before and she knows Mel and I have a standing reservation. I don’t need her help to find my boss in the small, mostly empty restaurant. Mel is sitting with her back to me, facing out over the water. The table is set right up against the threshold of the restaurant, though still inside. When it’s nice out, huge windows collapse to the sides to allow an uninterrupted view of the marina. Today it’s cloudy, but no rain is expected, so the windows are folded open.

“Punctual as always,” Mel says in her velvety tone when I walk past her and pull out the chair to her right. I don’t want to obstruct her view and the table seats four.

Her brown hair, tinged naturally with red, is pulled back into her usual tight bun. The front of her hair has some volume to it. Her hazel eyes are striking against her pale skin and her signature deep red lipstick is flawless as is her sleek, black pantsuit.

“Can’t be late for lunch with my boss. What are you drinking?” I sit and scoot in my chair. Mel glances down at the cocktail in her manicured hand. It’s purple with two edible flowers sitting on top.

“I believe this one is called Purple Mountains Majesty,” she says with a smile.”I ordered your usual.”

“Would you believe I wanted water today?” I ask, settling in and placing a napkin on my lap.

“Not for a second.” She grins and watches while I pick up the menu.

The waiter arrives with my beer and then dashes away when Mel dismisses him. He knows the tip she leaves for excellent service is usually twice what the bill costs and it’s always in cash–every server’s dream. Mel Ashcroft is probably whispered about in awe, for the tip alone. I only worked as a server in my first two years of college and I remember only getting good tippers once in a blue moon.

“The new client,” Mel begins after a few minutes of silence. “The one with all the documents.” I set down the menu to meet her gaze. “I may take you off of the project.”

“What?” I frown at her. She just gave me the project and it’s not as if it’s small. She knows it’ll take time.

“It’s nothing to do with you,” she clarifies, absently straightening the silverware in front of her. “I simply think it's a lost cause. The client is difficult.” She says the last word as if it’s not quite right, but she can’t find another to use.

“If you’re sure.” I watch her carefully. “Is there anything I can do to convince you not to take it away?”

“I thought you didn’t want it.” Mel studies me. “But no, there’s not. I just…” she trails off, pulling both lips between her teeth and biting down for a moment like she isn’t sure how to continue. “You know some of what we do is dangerous.” I nod. She never involves me in that side of things. I wonder if something made her change her mind. “I think this may cross a line we don’t usually cross.”

“That’s all you have to say.” I trust her judgment.

Mel has never put me in harm’s way. A policy of Harp Solutions is to keep every department, every individual employee, essentially separate. I don’t know a single other person who works for her, but I know there are at least a hundred people on the payroll–which Mel takes care of personally.

“That simple, hm?” she asks, the corner of her mouth pulling upward in a smile.

“You’re immovable, Mel. If you made up your mind already, I’m not going to waste my breath trying to change it.”

“I knew I liked you.”

“So, is that all you wanted to discuss?” I ask, looking down at my menu again. I haven’t been able to focus on the words in front of me yet, so I have no idea what to order.

“Unless you accept my offer.”

“I don’t want to be the CIO,” I mutter.

“Because it takes you away from the action,” she sighs. “Fine, then I’ll just give you another raise. What’s the amount that’ll make you feel so guilty youhaveto accept?”

“I don’t know, how much are you willing to offer?” I tease with a grin.

“You’re too good to be a grunt.”

“If you had managers, I’d accept that,” I shoot back. “Too bad there’s so much secrecy.”

“I thought you hated people.”

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