Page 17 of Love & Other Disasters

“You’re scaring me Vi.”

Her head fell against the stall door with a thud. “The new CFO is Frat Guy,” she said through her constricted throat. Elle’s laughter rang through the phone. “This isn’t funny,” she squeaked. “I’m dead.”

“This could only happen to you,” she said.

“It’s all your fault.”

“How?”

“You’re the one that introduced me as Katia.”

“It was a joke, and we had no idea. I didn’t tell you to screw the guy then sneak out the next morning.”

“I’m so fired when he realizes who I am.”

“Maybe he won’t recognize you… with all the booze and your makeup.”

A slight glimmer of hope sprang up. “You think so?”

“No, but if that’s what you want to tell yourself.”

“It’s what I need. This is my career we’re talking about.” Could she somehow avoid him long enough that he’d forget her? And her appearance that night differed from her normal. It might work. “I’ll call you back.”

After meeting with the Board members, J.P.’s brief but reassuring speech to the employees went over as well as he hoped. The whirlwind of the past few days with moving and starting the job right away helping devise a plan to save the company exhausted him. The financials they’d sent him proved even worse than they’d let on during the interview process. Not a surprise, but even worse than he’d expected. He’d been up all night working on the preliminary plan to give the Board this morning.

Coffee was necessary for the afternoon. He ventured out of his office to find the coffee station. Chatter in the cubicles crashed to a halt as he walked the room. He’d taken an office inside the accounting department. Melvin McAvoy had been with the other executives on the fourth floor, but Jordan preferred to be in the department he was running. The company occupied four floors in the building; reducing the amount of overhead was a necessity. But locked into a lease for the next six months, he couldn’t cut them just yet. One solution to the problem, the company could sublet a floor or two and make money from unneeded space? He’d talk to the in-house attorney.

Jordan located a kitchenette area with a single-serve coffee machine, two microwaves, and two standard size refrigerators. A sink cluttered with dirty dishes sat surrounded by a Formica countertop. The three tables with eight chairs each, filled most of the floor space. He scanned the selections of coffee available, several flavors and roasts. Saving costs by cutting coffee was a non-starter, the staff would revolt. He’d learned that the hard way.

The aroma of the coffee spilling into the cup relaxed his shoulders. A movement in the periphery caught his attention, turning, he caught a glimpse of a woman making a hasty retreat around the corner. But there had been no one in the room with him. Did she walk in, spot him, then at once turn tail and run? A definite possibility. People here did not trust him.

The retreating woman’s hair, chestnut-colored and hanging to her mid-back, reminded him of Katia. Brent said that Elle passed along his number, but there was no response from her. The little spitfire had left him wanting to see her again, but the reverse wasn’t true. She hadn’t liked him near as much. Unless Elle decided not to pass along his information but, why would she do that?

He moved to the doorway and peered out, but the woman had disappeared. She’d been the same height and hair color as Katia. On the way back to his office, he wandered up and down the aisles of cubicles, but he couldn’t find anyone resembling the person who’d fled the break room. Was it his imagination? It’d been a long day. He’d hoped to find Katia again now that he lived in the city, but in reality he didn’t have the time. He had a lot of shit to help cleanup. But that fleeting glimpse reminded him of her. That couldn’t have been her, could it?

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