Page 20 of Boss Me

There went that dropping sensation in my stomach again, like I was on a roller coaster and we’d just started flying down the big hill. But Marlee would figure something out.

“Thanks, Marlee.” I hugged her, enveloped in her rose-scented perfume.

“Don’t thank me yet.” She tightened her grip on my back and spoke in my ear. “You haven’t heard your part of the plan.”

Marlee made me memorize the three steps of the deceptively simple-sounding plan, which she’d named Operation Finding Nemo. Who’d have thought a woman who looked and spoke like a Disney Princess had such a devious mind?

The next day, Tuesday, one week since I’d seen Cooper, she paused at my desk, her arm slung around Julie’s shoulders. They both had their raincoats on, Julie’s gapping around her protruding belly. When was she scheduled to take maternity leave, again? It looked like soon.

“Hey, Ben. Julie and I are going to hit that ice-cream truck down the street. They have these amazing flavors, but it’s only there for another twenty minutes.”

Julie’s eyes widened. “Marlee says they have a sweet potato and bacon one. And maybe a scoop of sriracha gelato on top?”

I suppressed a shudder. “Sounds yummy.” Casually, I added, “Anything I need to cover while you’re gone?”

“Ohmygod, I almost forgot. I can’t go, Marlee. Mr. Weston has a call with the Chairman in five minutes. He always makes me dial the call and connect them like it’s 1960.” She rolled her eyes.

I gave a fake snort. “I can do that for you, no problem.”

“Really?” Her eyes widened.

“Of course. I wouldn’t want you to miss that sriracha gelato.”

“Ohmygod, I’m drooling. I owe you big-time, Ben. All the info’s in my calendar.”

Marlee winked. Step One—check.

“I’m on it. You two have fun.”

“Thanks. You’re the best, Ben,” Julie called over her shoulder as Marlee guided her toward the elevator.

Now for Step Two. I pulled up Julie’s calendar and found the information for the call. When the clock ticked over to the hour, I called the Chairman and asked him to hold for Weston. Then I called Weston.

“Mr. Weston, I’ve got the Chairman holding.”

“Ben? Where’s—? Never mind. Put him through.”

I connected the call, but instead of dropping off, I stayed on, ensuring I’d muted my line. Marlee had promised me Weston wasn’t tech-savvy enough to know. Still, I watched his closed office door from my desk, my sweaty palms making the handset slip in my grip.

“Good afternoon, Charles.” Weston launched into small-talk, asking about the Chairman’s new granddaughter, his wife, and his own business. In return, the Chairman proposed a golf outing in a few weeks when the weather warmed.

While they shot the shit, I waited, my pencil poised over my notepad, perspiration prickling across my forehead. I breathed as little as possible, even though I was muted and they couldn’t hear me.

Finally, Weston asked, “Did you read my proposal?”

“I did, and I have some concerns.” The Chairman sounded…uncomfortable? That couldn’t be right. I’d met him only once, and he’d been all ease and confidence. “I don’t think Cooper or Jackson will sign off on some of your cost-cutting measures. The tuition-reimbursement plan, for example—”

I gasped. Then I triple-checked I was still on mute. I’d never finish my degree if Synergy didn’t pay for my classes and books. But the Chairman wasn’t done yet.

“The real no-go is this ten percent across-the-board staff cut. Neither one of the founders has ever supported a reduction in force, even during the last recession.”

I stiffened. Layoffs? Who would they cut? Someone in a big department like my sister, Mimi, or the most recent hires? I’d been hired only six months ago.

“What’s the update on Cooper?” the Chairman asked. “Jackson won’t sign off if he opposes it.”

“I don’t think Fallon will be a problem much longer.”

An honest-to-God chill clawed down my spine when Weston said that. He was a dick, but he wouldn’t do anything to hurt Cooper, would he?

---