Page 84 of Positively Pricked
But already, Carla was shaking her head. "No. It's not her." She bit her lip. "It's someone else." Looking more worried than ever, she whispered, "It's a guy. For you."
I felt my eyebrows furrow. "For me?"
She nodded. "In the executive lobby."
She looked almost afraid.
Hoping to calm her nerves, I tried to make a joke of it. "It's not an ax-murderer, is it?"
"I, uh, don't think so."
Well, that was reassuring.
I gave her a perplexed look. "But you don't know who it is?"
She shook her head. "He wouldn’t say. He said it's a surprise."
Now, I was almost afraid, too. "A work surprise?"
Again, Carla shook her head. "The other kind."
"What kind is that?" I asked.
She leaned close and whispered so low, it was a wonder that I heard her at all. "The personal kind."
Okay, now I wasreallyconfused. I'd been far too busy to date, and other than a few visits with Charlotte and a mother's day weekend at my parents, I'd been doing nearly nothing outside of work.
Obviously, there was something I was missing. I looked to Carla and asked, "And why are you whispering?"
Her gaze shifted toward Zane's office, just beyond our shared wall. She mouthed, "You know."
I shook my head. "I'm sorry, but I don't..." And then it hit me. "Ohhhhh…You mean because I'm at work?" I waved away her concern. It was true that Zane was a hard-ass, but he was surprisingly decent when it came to visitors showing up during lunchtime.
Just last Friday, I'd had Charlotte up for lunch in my office. And Zane – in a rare moment of civility – even had the decency to say hello and refrain from cursing for five whole minutes.
But now, in front of me, Carla was looking more uncomfortable with every passing moment.
Looking to ease her concerns, I gave her a reassuring smile. "It's okay. It's lunchtime, right?"
Again, her gaze shifted to the wall. She chewed on her lower lip for ten whole seconds before whispering, "Well, then you'd better hurry while he's on that telecon."
I didn't know which telecom she meant, but it was easy to guess who she was talking about. "You mean Zane?"
She froze. "Uh, right. Mister Bennington."
Around here, everyone called him Mister Bennington – well, everyone except for me. But there was a good reason for that.
It stemmed from an argument during my second day on the job. After yet another tense meeting, where I'd tried – and failed – to help keep things civilized, I'd flat-out demanded to know if there was something else I was supposed to be doing.
Zane's response had caught me totally off guard. "Yeah. You can pretend I'm not an asshole. And while you're at it, call me Zane."
The first part of his request was hard, because in truth, Zanewasan asshole. As for the second part,thatwas easy, because I'd always thought of him as Zane – not Mister Anything – probably because I'd first met him outside the office.
In front of me, Carla was still looking tense and uneasy.
"Don't worry," I assured her as I got to my feet, "it's not a big deal, honest."
Unfortunately, that turned out to be a big, fat lie.
