Page 76 of Crash and Burn
"An early morning riser," he noted.
"Sure am," I lied, putting a hand to my stomach to quell the uneasy roiling. I hoped I didn't throw up on his fancy office carpeting.
"This shouldn't take too much time," he continued, waving me over to take a seat on a sofa. "I simply need to go over some paperwork with you."
I sat gingerly, not wanting to make any sharp, sudden motions. I settled myself into position, leaning heavily against the arm of the sofa. I blinked a few times to clear my head. Exactly how many drinks had I consumed last night?
Carling held out a stack of papers.
"I'll need you to review these documents and sign the last page," he said.
"What is it?" I asked.
“A standard contract," he said with a casual wave of his hand. "Mostly it's the usual non-disclosure agreement, meaning you can't tell anyone details of our designs until they're revealed."
"Makes sense." I shuffled through the papers. "Looks like a lot of words for an NDA, though." I tried to read some of what it said, but my vision went cross-eyed the harder I concentrated.
"Lawyers like to be thorough," he chuckled as he handed me a ballpoint pen. "Give it a look-through and sign the last page."
"Uhh—" I flipped through the papers, the blots of ink all running together. "Sure."
Carling subtly looked down at his gold-faced watch, which must have been purely for decoration because who actually used watches nowadays, and shifted in his seat. He was no doubt a busy guy, and probably had places to be and things to do.
I flipped to the last page and scribbled my name at the bottom. If Carling was impatient to get it all signed and sealed, I was even more so, because the longer I sat under with the bright sunlight streaming through his floor-to-ceiling windows, the worse my head throbbed.
I handed him back the now-signed papers.
"Everything in order?" he asked, sitting up expectantly.
"Looks good to me," I said.
"Excellent," Carling replied as he stood. I followed suit, taking his lead. "You've certainly sent me quite a few pieces," he noted. "We should be able to get started with production soon."
"That's amazing," I replied, even as a jolt of panic shot through me. Handing off my designs to Carling was one thing but officially revealing them to the world was something else entirely. Everyone was going to see my work. Everyone was going to have an opinion about my work. Everyone was going to judge my work.
The thought was nerve wracking. A spike of adrenaline overloaded my system. My hands trembled with both anticipation and fear.
Normally when I got worked up like this I went to Grant. He could always talk me down, could always reassure me. But now…
A terrible nausea returned in full force. I had to go to my shift at the bar after this. I dreaded the confrontation that was to come.
"Worrying already?" Carling asked and I realized I'd stopped in the middle of walking to the door, my thoughts having wandered too far. "Don't worry. I'm confident your designs will receive a positive reception."
"I hope so," I said, forcing a smile.
That smile dropped the instant I was out of that office.
By the time the elevator ride took me down to the first floor foyer I had to press my lips together to keep them from trembling.
Heartache, anger, worry, despair — a dozen or more emotions all fought for dominance as I made my way to work.
I had no idea what to prepare myself for when I walked into the bar. I forcibly relaxed my clenched jaw and fisted hands. Steeling myself, I pushed open the front door. I looked around quickly.
Grant wasn't there.
Relief and disappointment warred with each other. I knew I'd had to talk to him eventually but that didn't mean I was looking forward to it.
I made my way to the back, where I assumed Mason would be working away. The door to the bar hadn't been locked so I wasn't the first one in. As I expected, he was hunched over a laptop, a look of concentration on his face as he tapped a pen repeatedly against the desk.
