Page 23 of Amethyst Flame
“Don’t call me again,” I said. And I ended the call.
CHAPTERSIX
The Banta slidingdoor whished open, and a woman asked, “Imogen Taylor?”
“Yeah?” But my gaze was stuck on the number on my phone. Technically, itwaspossible that I had a sister.
Awkward silence forced me to glance up. The woman—oh, yeah, the sneakerhead from marketing—beamed a megawatt smile at me. Which was why I could never,evergo into marketing. Even if I was in the back part of the department, doing the art, I’d have to be around peppy people all the time.
“You forgot your swag.”
Of course they’d have swag. “Oh. Cool!” Free stuff. All mine. Dane and Jacob could suck it. “I’ll be right there.”
As I followed her back inside, I saved the number to my contacts, labeling it Vishing Scam. Because…My sister?The world was full of assholes trying to take advantage of lonely people.
Turned out Banta had gone wild with the swag. Not only did I have two t-shirts in my size—apparently for Fridays only—but Banta had sprung for an insulated, environmentally friendly water bottle, a handy key fob with integrated tools, a knapsack made from soda bottles, a cap with a discreet logo, a folder with all sorts of glossy pics and info, flair (lovedthe rainbow version of Banta’s logo, in particular), and all of it came inside of a damn fine convertible backpack/shoulder bag.
“And this is yours to keep,” she said, handing me a thin box—still in its plastic—with a picture of a slick laptop. I had to sign for it, which I dizzily did. A laptop. That they were giving me. For keeps. “So if you want to decorate it with these stickers”—she put shiny stickers on top of the box—“feel free.”
And this, my friends, is how someone sells their soul. For swag.
“Wow,” I said. “I’m a little blown away. Thanks!”
She flashed another blinding smile. “BantaMatrix takes care of its people.”
“I can see that.” Evil corporations aren’t miserly. They coddle…before they kill.
When I exited the building the second time, I was weighed down with awesome stuff. Naturally, I’d have Jacob take a look at the laptop to make sure there was no spyware installed. And then it was mine, mine, mine.
My car was an oven, the steering wheel a circle of plastic fire because I forgot to put up the car shade. I rolled down the windows to get the air moving as I pulled out of the parking lot. The A/C didn’t kick in until I was halfway home, my heart rate racing to compensate for the heat.
I wassolate for work. Like, four hours late. EvenIthought I should be fired.
But I had to stop at home first. I ran inside, dumped my new stuff on my bed, slammed my bedroom door on Jacob’s inquiring face so that I could strip off my t-shirt and replace it with the Freeze tee folded so neatly on top of the pile of clean laundry at the foot of my bed.
Little bit of Mom magic there. Making me look good when I most needed it.
She shouldn’t have bent over to get clothes out of the dryer though. That was my job.
I banged back out of my room, bumped the boy out of my way, spotted Mom in the kitchen, called “Love you!” to her as I ran out of the house to my second job of the day.
Two hours were left on my shift. Rique had been manning the shop alone for a while, which was against the rules. When I came in the door, he glared daggers at me, but he didn’t complain. Didn’t grumble. Didn’t—thank god—whine.
Either his attitude change was a small miracle or he was up to something.
Survey says: Up to something.
I’d just have to wait and see what new horrors he thought he’d wrought upon my life.
I was ignoring him while sucking down an apple-chai-berry quake (needed a caffeine hit and some calories now that the sweat on my neck had dried) when Jacob walked in as if he were a customer. The Kidnapper was parked out front. Dane, Raymon Dane, double-O-asshole was likely in the driver’s seat behind the tinted windows.
Jacob quickly smiled at me and then stared up at the menu above me with a prolonged, “Umm…”
They wanted a report on my day, or in spy lingo, a debrief. Like right away.Ha!
“Rique, customer!” And I went in the back where the mixers were. Because there is a time to be petty, and this was it.
I texted Swann my debrief of my first day at Banta.Didn’t die, they showered me with gifts, and a supergeek flirted with me. How are you?
