3
Nathaniel
Who would have thought one simple email would be enough to transform this Monday from crappy to amazing in just a second? This is it. This is the chance my team needs. Hours of working overtime, missing Lincoln’s tournaments, missing life—it won’t all be for nothing. Or at least it will give my ragtag company, Shemesh-Tek, a fighting chance.
I mumble out loud as I reread the email sent from the contractor coordinator associated with the El Lugar labs. “Leaving this week … timing might work … catch her in Building 45 before end-of-day paperwork.”
This email got buried in the hundreds that I get every day. Thankfully, I just happened to catch it. I glance at my watch—
“Crap!” I yell as I shoot up from my desk. I lock my computer, grab my badge, and sprint out of the office, the door slamming behind me. I only have a few minutes to make it across the campus. El Lugar National Laboratory isn’t huge compared to some of the national labs across the country, but it is still a good half mile to the building containing my last hope.
I stop abruptly before crashing into a rolling trash can.
“Sorry, Jake!” I yell to the janitor as I spin around him and the obstacle.
“Watch out, Nathaniel, or you might lose a toe,” he teases.
I throw up my arms in apology but keep half-jogging in the direction I’m going. “We need to chat about that Dodgers game. We were robbed.”
He waves away my comment. “You’re lying to yourself, man. Slow down!”
“Robbed, I say!” I call over my shoulder as I keep jogging.
My long legs eat up ground as I try not to look too goofy sprinting down the narrow streets. The midday sun bakes the pavement and I force myself to a walk so I don’t arrive drenched in sweat. Also, this area of campus has a lot of bigwigs wandering from meeting to meeting in expensive suits. I can barely muster dress pants and a button-up shirt. I’m much more at home in jeans and a Millennium Falcon T-shirt but someone on the team needs to look professional. Last thing I need is to run into the lab liaison, Ken, when Shemesh-Tek is already on thin ice for being behind on the contract.
My team is gonna be fine. We’ve been given another chance. I haven’t met the document manager in person, but rumor is she could help any contract get back on track.
Julia Russo, my saving grace.
Now I just need to let her know.
When I get to her building, I attempt to smooth down my hair but feel the brown curls bounce back up, adding to my absentminded professor look. Jared once described me as a starting player for a basketball team crossed with a mad scientist. An oddly specific and apropos observation from my closest friend.
I’m still a little sweaty when I reach the front desk. An older woman is glaring at her screen; an Excel spreadsheet is reflected in her purple bejeweled glasses.
“Hello, can you tell me where I can find Julia Russo?” I lean against the high desk and tap the top with my knuckles.
She startles, eyebrows raising behind her glasses. Sometimes I’m a little intense. My brain moves fast and I forget my manners. Combined with my height, people don’t know how to take me. The men in my family can be intimidating with or without meaning to. I back up and give her some space.
“Hi. I’m sorry. That was rude. Let me start over.” I glance at the admin’s badge. “Susan. How are you?”
“I’m well, Mr. Aarons.” She blinks rapidly before shaking off her frown with a quick headshake. “You weren’t rude, it’s this spreadsheet. How are you?” I’m surprised that she knows my name, but then again, that’s why we have the badges. That, and for security clearances. I have the highest level. This, too, can sometimes intimidate people. They assume I’m one of the bigwigs and not just a dork with an ever-buzzing brain.
“I’m fantastic. Better now.” I give a large smile and she softens more. “Can I help?” I nudge my chin in the direction of the screen.
“No. No, I’ve got it. I just have to wrangle it into submission.”
“Okay good, because it was an empty offer. Excel scares me.”
She laughs and shakes her head. “Julia is right down that hall.” She points to her left. “But she’s packing up her desk now.”
“I better zip right down there. You’re a life saver. Thank you again, Susan.”
“You’re welcome, Mr. Aarons.”
“Call me Nathanial. You show that file who’s boss,” I call over my shoulder as I make my way down the hall, leaving a smiling Susan.
I find Julia easily enough. She’s the only person with a paper name sign pinned outside her cubicle. I’m about to knock on the short wall that goes only a little higher than my shoulder when her voice reaches me.
