Page 47 of Time Stops With You

I shower cautiously, checking around.

Still no Nardis.

Good, that’s good.

I sit at my computer as I do every morning after I brew a pot of coffee.

The chair next to me is Nardi free.

So far, it seems last night was an isolated incident. Feeling more comfortable, I settle into my work.

My phone rings.

It’s my virtual assistant, Sara.

I grunt. “Hello?”

“Mr. Cullen, have you forgotten the interview at HQ this morning?”

“HQ? We don’t have a—” I jolt.

Nardi’s apartment building.

I had to justify the purchase to my investors, so I declared that my team could no longer meet virtually and we needed an office.

I groan in dismay. “What time is it?”

“It’s six am, sir.”

I fly out of my chair and replace my at-home beanie for my business-casual beanie. “When’s the first interview?”

“You set your first meeting at,” she pauses and checks something, “seven o’clock, sir. You said and I quote, ‘interviewing potential candidates is the very definition of a nightmare’. Per your instruction, Asad chose the best three candidates and I told them to show up at six o’clock to test their commitment and time management. As you guessed, only one person showed up and she’s waiting for you now.”

Crap. Crap. Crap.I hop on one leg, pulling up my pants. “I’ll be there soon.”

“Asad and Dr. Young will be coming in as well. They want to play around with the new computers you ordered.”

I order a car the moment I hang up with Sara. The driver arrives in fifteen minutes and, on the way, I read the resumé Sara sends over.

A photo of a pretty blonde woman wearing glasses stares up from the corner of the page. Jenna Straugn is a college graduate with a minor in Machine Learning Development and a Masters in Computer Science with a focus on Software Engineering.

She’s got all the awards and accolades expected of someone with her background. At my company, we don’t lack for skill, but few stick it out when I start making demands. I doubt Jenna Straugn will be any different.

The car slows in front of the apartment building. Construction workers are still moving in and out, but my office should be ready by now.

Sara opens my car door for me.

“Thanks,” I say, looking down at her frazzled bun. “But you don’t have to open my door.”

“Oh, I just… I read that you don’t like germs, so I wanted to help with that. Am I overdoing it?”

I stare at her, my mind traveling back to last night when I cooked for Nardi. ‘I read that you’re a germaphobe on Wiki.’

“Mr. Cullen?” Sara gets my attention.

“Huh?”

Sara pushes up her glasses with one finger. “Are you okay? Did you sleep well? Do you want me to refill any prescriptions for you? I can rearrange your schedule if you need to go to the hospital.”

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