Page 1 of Every Silent Lie
December 1st
The sound of enthusiastic chatter and cheerfulness seeps through the wood of my office door. The only closed door on the sixth floor of the building. Always.
Do not disturb.
Stay out.
Enter at your own risk.
My legs crossed under my desk, my high heel dangling from my toes, my pen drags back and forth across the pile of paperwork as I check each line. Another swig of coffee. How long until I can have something stronger? I glance at the clock. Five forty-five. Why the hell are people still here?
There’s a knock at the door, a familiar sequence of taps, and I call out an okay for my boss to enter. He pokes his head around and removes his glasses. “Still here?” he asks, closing the door but remaining exactly where he is, scared to come farther into my office.
“No, I left two hours ago, Thomas.” I drop my pen and work my foot back into my heel. “Why’s everyone still here?”
“It’s the first of December, Camryn.”
“And?”
Frowning, Thomas shakes his head. “And . . . it’s tradition for me to bring in a crate of champagne and let my staff knock off work an hour early to enjoy it.”
“Why?”
“Jesus Christ, Camryn. Because it’s December first. Because we’re entering the final month of the year. Because, because, because.”
“Right.”
“Joining us?”
“No.”
“Of course you’re not. You’ve been working for me for two years and never have you joined in on any of the networking events or office drinks.”
You wouldn’t want to see me with alcohol in me, Thomas. “With such emphasis put on never.” I get up and swing my coat over my shoulders. “I’m not here to network,” I remind him. “I’m here to get your company in the best financial shape, ready for the team you’re hiring to help make TF Shipping’s debut on the market.”
“Those reports are two years in the making.” Thomas nods at my bag where I’ve just put said reports. “And you’re still not happy with the company’s financial position.”
“No, I’m not.” Collecting up some other files, enough to keep me busy this weekend, I slip them into my bag. “Because you keep buying ships, Thomas.” Among other things the company doesn’t need. “And your board members, aka your son and wife, seem to think a company business card seconds as a personal credit card.”
“I’m a shipping company. I need ships.”
It doesn’t escape my notice that he swerves my comment about his son and wife. “You have plenty of ships for now. You’re being competitive, trying to own the most floating towns. You need contracts to fill those ships with things to ship, Thomas. Your company’s numbers need to be healthy to be taken seriously. An IPO team will need a good foundation to get TF Shipping hitting the market strong if you want any credibility to get the investment you’re looking for to execute the growth plan.” I tap my bag where it’s hanging on my shoulder. “Any reputable IPO team would laugh at the state of these.”
“God, you just sucked the joy right out of my Friday.” Thomas opens the door as I pace toward him, pushing his back against it, ready to let me pass.
“Just keeping it real for you. My job’s hard enough without having to nag my boss about his and the board’s spending habits.” I come to a startled stop, something about the corridor vastly different from this morning. Tinsel. Everywhere. Every colour. Hanging off every door, including my own. My entire office door is framed in red sparkly tinsel. I want to reach up and rip it down. And the tree that looks like it’s had a bag of flour launched at it? I want to kick it. December. The month I dread most of all the months. “I see you’ve let Crystal loose,” I murmur, spotting a family of glowing reindeers by the elevators down the hall.
“I suppose you’re going to give me a hard time about increasing her budget for the holiday decorations this year, huh?”
“I’m not Scrooge, Thomas.”
A brief silence tells me he might not agree. “Didn’t she do a fabulous job?”
“Terrific.”
“Look, Cam, I know?—”
“It’s Camryn.”
