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The thought now occurred to Zoe that if a CEO was handling disciplinary action then the transgression would have to have been very serious indeed. Her mind rifled hastily back through her recent misdemeanors in search of something that might qualify. Generally speaking, Zoe was a model employee, she was far too petrified and meek to do anything wrong. She had never stolen so much as a paper clip from the supply cabinet, while she knew fellow workers whose home offices looked like a branch of a stationary store.
She was never late, she never left early, she never took too long for lunch. She was not sure how to go about embezzling company funds but would have been too honest (and too nervous) to do so even had she known. She was not selling company secrets to corporate spies or involving herself in shady insider trading deals. She was, as far as she could fathom, the paragon of good behavior.
Of course, she did occasionally say less than flattering things about Vanessa.
Zoe’s stomach went cold and her pace slowed still further. What if something she had said about Vanessa had made its way back to the woman herself? Although Zoe did not think that she had said anything too terrible (certainly not compared to what she had heard other people saying), Vanessa was not the sort to see the funny side of even the most minor comment. She was more the type to take vindictive revenge upon any who had wronged her.
By the time she reached the top floor, Zoe had convinced herself that a stray comment she had made about how many vodka cranberrys Vanessa Reese had consumed in the bar of their hotel the week before, was responsible for, not just her being fired, but her being black-balled from every large company in America.
And possibly an FBI investigation as well.
There were two doors leading off the central foyer onto which the elevator opened. Outside of one was a hive of activity – various assistants fluttered in and out with binders, files and memos, all purposeful and hurried. A line of suited men sat outside in a row, awaiting their appointment whilst earnestly reading the financial pages. The telephones – of which there were six – seemed to be ringing near-constantly and were answered by one of the fleet of assistants with a clipped, “Adam Rothberger’s office, please hold.”
It was a busy, but well-oiled, machine, every piece working in perfect conjunction with those around it, resulting in the appearance of an ant colony, working like a single unit towards a single goal.
On the opposite side of the room, in front of the other door, was a similar desk with just one phone (silent), no files, binders or memos, not even a computer, and one assistant (perturbed). The man gave off an aura of quiet panic, as if he had somehow been caught in the middle of his worst day ever.
Zoe approached the busy desk. “Hi, I’m…”
The sharply dressed woman behind the desk held up a finger to silence Zoe as she tapped out a few keys on her laptop. She then lowered the finger, looked up at Zoe and cocked a sharpened eyebrow.
“Name?”
“Zoe Blanchard,” replied Zoe.
“I’m not seeing you.”
Zoe frowned. “I’m right here in front of you.”
The woman pursed her savagely scarlet lips. “On my list of appointments. I am not seeing you on my list of appointments.”
She spoke accusingly, as if Zoe was not on the list deliberately to spite her.
“I only spoke to Mr. Rothberger last night, it’s possible…”
“I’m not seeing you on the list.”
“Yes, but…”
“I’m not seeing you on the list.”
This was apparently a deadly faux pas, past which there was no getting.
Zoe took a deep breath then spoke quickly to try to get in before her status vis a vis the list was once again reiterated. “I was in a bar last night and Nick Rothberger…”
“Nick?” The interruption came fast and hard.
“Sorry,” Zoe corrected herself, “Mr. Rothberger…”
“This is Mr. Adam Rothberger’s office.” The assistant was not even looking at Zoe any more. “Over there.” She pointed across the room with a razor like nail to the other desk, managing to simultaneously convey her contempt for the desk itself and for anyone who might have business there.
Zoe smiled an apology, which she did not mean, before crossing to the quieter and yet more harassed desk. As she approached, the phone rang and the man at the desk regarded it as if it was an adder about to strike. Finally he seemed to remember what he was supposed to do and fumbled the receiver into trembling hands.
“Hi?” he answered unprofessionally. “Oh.” He looked up across at the other desk. “It’s for you.”
The look that was shot back at him from the severe woman made it clear that this was not how they did things here.
The man returned to the phone. “Hang on. I’ll transfer you.” He pushed a button and a dialing tone emerged from the machine. The man looked up at Zoe. “I think I disconnected her.”
“I’m sure she’ll call back if it’s important,” said Zoe comfortingly. She could not help feeling sorry for the hapless man. “Is this Nick Rothberger’s office?”
“Ummmm…Yes… yes…” the man mumbled, as though he was not quite sure, while replacing the phone.
“I have an appointment.”
“Let me check my book.” The man opened an appointment book which was empty save for the name Zoe Blanchard. He unnecessarily ran a finger down the page and tapped the name. “Your name please?”
“Zoe Blanchard.”
The man checked again. “Ah yes. You’re a few minutes early.”
“Is he busy?”
The man shrugged and spit his gum into a nearby trashcan. “I wouldn’t have thought so.”
As he spoke, the door behind him opened and the face of Nick Rothberger emerged from it. “Is she – Ah, Miss Blanchard. Come along in. Hold my calls, Eddie.”
The man at the desk, whose name appeared to be Eddie, nodded and turned his gaze to the phone, watching it like a hawk, as if it might pull out its cord and make a run for the elevator at any second.
Nick beckoned to Zoe, who crossed nervously to the door and followed the CEO inside. He was smiling, which seemed to Zoe to be a good sign, but for all she knew he enjoyed firing people – it might be a perk of the job.
Entering the office, Zoe was somewhat taken aback. She did not spend a lot of time in the offices of CEOs but she had a sort of mental image of how they looked and that image did not include dust and cardboard boxes.
Nick, shifted a pile of printer paper off of a chair and indicated it to Zoe. “Please.”
Zoe sat. “Did you just move in?”
“No,” said Nick, as he excavated a second chair for himself. “But I don’t get here often. Hence, Eddie.”
“Ah.”
“Poor guy isn’t used to having to do his job,” Nick shook his head sadly. “He’s been my PA for three years now and I think this is the first time he’s actually had to do something. He’s petrified of making a mistake.”
“I see,” said Zoe, although really, she didn’t. The CEO of RothCo hadn’t been here for three years? How did that work?
“Tell most people that RothCo has two CEOs,” Nick continued, answering Zoe’s unasked question, “and they’ll wonder what on earth you’re talking about. My brother Adam does the bulk of the actual – what would you call it? – work. I do the…” He paused in thought for a moment. “Well, I don’t do the work anyway. Not the day to day, that is,” he hastily continued. “I’m more the go-to guy in times of crisis. If something’s going wrong and you don’t know what to do about it – who you gonna call?”
“Ghostbusters?” suggested Zoe, who was finding herself completely lost in this whole conversation.
“No. Me.” Nick frowned at her. “How did you not get that?” He sighed and shook his head and for a moment looked thoroughly displeased with his lot in life, but then seemed to shake the moment off and continued. “The reason I have asked you here, Zoe, is that we have a problem. One with which I t
hink you are already familiar.”
“Yes?” Zoe wracked her brains, which seemed to have turned to mush.
“A company problem,” Nick prompted. “One to do with an upcoming deal. In which you have been involved. A problem at whose inception you were present. In South Africa. To do with your boss.”
“Oh!” Zoe jumped at the answer. “Vanessa being run down by wildebeest!”
“Yes!” said Nick. He was smiling but Zoe got the impression that he was not as happy as he seemed. In truth, she would have got what he was hinting at faster if not for the fact that she had never really seen the trampling of Vanessa as a ‘problem’.
More a welcome break.
“Vanessa Reese is of paramount importance to this company and her being stampeded over has been something of an inconvenience to us.”
“And to her,” added Zoe.
