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In the top compartment there’s a bottle of water, a banana, and three small, lidded containers holding guacamole, sour cream, and salsa. There’s also a Snickers protein bar. I open the other side and there’s a foil packet of warm tortillas with a Thermos. I open the Thermos. Chicken peppers, mushrooms, and onions fried in salsa. Steam curls up from the mouth of it and it smells great.
Inside a zippered sandwich bag there’s a knife, fork, napkin, even a fucking wet wipe packet for me to wipe my hands afterwards. There are also individual salt and pepper packets.
Guilt hits again.
But why should I feel guilty? Because this girl that is getting paid to do shit for me actually does what she’s being paid to do?
I open the foil packet wide to use it like a plate and dump some of the thermos contents onto the top tortilla, using the plastic knife to add the sour cream and salsa. I skip the guacamole and wrap up the tortilla.
It’s fucking delicious. She’s packed me enough for four of these things. I eat two and a half of them, eat like it’s my last meal. Or the best meal I’ve had in a long time. I wind up with salsa on my knee, chicken on papers on my desk, and I don’t give two shits.
As I’m wrapping up the half-eaten one in the foil, because I’m stuffed (but I might want it later because it’s too good to throw out), my phone rings. Dad.
“Great,” I mutter and wipe my mouth as I answer the call.
He’s been a demanding prick since I’ve been here. He’s rightfully livid about the shit Bassell was up to, shit that’s still being uncovered through my audit. That employee is going to see us in court, in fact, and I’m looking to find out if he had any accomplices that haven’t already been fired. We’re damn near sure he was feeding stuff to the competition.
“Hey, Dad.” I screw the lid tight on the Thermos and lean back in my chair, using the wet wipe to dab at the food stain on my knee.
“Austin, are you all right?”
“Debatable. Why?”
“Alice was on the phone with Olivia at reception there and she said she thinks Sienna Greer just left your office.”
“What? How do Alice and Liv know that’s even an issue?”
“I told Alice what happened. And Olivia mention some dramatic redhead with an attitude was leaving your office in a huff while they talked on the phone.”
My eyes close. I’m not fucking happy about this.
“I told her not to say anything, and she won’t,” Dad adds.
“Dad, fuck.”
He’s silent on the phone for a second.
“I’d prefer you not tell anybody about this shit. This is highly personal, Dad.”
“I…” He lets that hang and just holds the phone.
I scoff and shake my head.
“Sorry, Austin,” he finally says.
“Whatever. Just please, nobody else, Dad. Okay?”
“Okay, son. Alice will be discreet. I promise.”
I shake my head. I fucking hope so. Why would my father tell his assistant about this?
“What happened with Sienna in the office?” he asks.
“She breezed in here acting like she wants a relationship. Flashed me her underwear. Playin’ like I’m crazy if I think it wasn’t consensual. Says we were drunk and not only won’t I have a leg to stand on legally, but I’ll be a laughingstock too. A guy reporting a girl for date rape. Of course she’s playing it off like anybody could’ve drugged me. She doesn’t know I have video.”
“Unfortunately, she’s right about public opinion.”
“A man can’t possibly be taken against his will?”
“Obviously, he can,” my father says.
I sigh.
“I’m sorry, son. Very sorry that this happened to you.”
“Thanks. I recorded the conversation and sent it to Dan.”
“You need anything?” Dad offers.
“Just some peace and quiet to get work done.”
“Okay, I’ll let you go. Let me know your findings when you’re done with that audit.”
“Yeah, of course.”
“When’s that gonna be?”
“As soon as possible.”
“Tomorrow, maybe?”
I feel my blood heat up even more.
“No, Dad. At least three or four more business days. At least. This is a mountain of shit I’m digging through.”
“Oh. Okay. As soon as you can. Bye for now.”
I’m about to slam the phone, but think better of it. This is Quentin Carmichael – he’s built this company for us and he cares a lot about it.
“Wait. Dad, how are you doing? How are you feeling?” I ask.
“Fine, Austin. Fine.”
“Honestly, Dad.”
Silence for a second, then, “Feeling like shit. Feeling twice my age. Forgetting stuff. Hate it.”
“You should take time off.”
“No. I shouldn’t. I need to keep busy. Don’t need time in my head, son.”
“I get that.” And I do.
“I know you do. Thanks for all you’re doing there. I have to run.”
“Okay, Dad.”
“Bye, Auz. You’re doing great up there. I’m glad I have you there ironing things out.”
Once I hang up, I head to reception and first I tell Olivia not to let anyone in like that again. When she defends that she was in the bathroom and the relief receptionist didn’t get a chance to stop Sienna from just waltzing in I lose my cool and call the entire remaining staff of a dozen out to the floor and ream them all out, telling them nobody should be inside the office without an escort. I warn there’s an audit being done and say some of their former coworkers were fired because of fraud. No one but staff are allowed in the office until further notice and the end of my tirade warns that if any others are found to be in cahoots with the people who have been fired over mishandling of company documents or funds will not only lose their jobs, they’ll be charged criminally.
