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I’m suddenly exhausted. It’s midafternoon, but it feels like the right time to call it a day.
First, I head to Human Resources. Over the last four months, I’ve gotten to know the names of all the receptionists who sit outside the elevator doors on each floor. I’ve even given them each their own plant, custom chosen to match their personalities, to have at their desk. Most accepted my gift. Some argued they couldn’t because they’d inadvertently kill it (they got one, anyway). And some outright refused, saying they didn’t like plants.
The woman at the HR front desk is one of those. From day one, we did not hit it off. No surprise. Saying you hate plants is like saying you hate joy or life.
“Hello, Willow.” I always chuckle inside about the irony of her name.
“Virginia.” She emphasizes the second half of my name, making her voice high on theyuh, like I’m a question.
“Who do I talk to about my contract?”
“Is it a short-term with an end date, one that has rolling renewal, or a permanent contract?”
“Renewal type.”
“Your contract is being managed by …” Willow types quickly, then looks up. “Maurice Szostak. He’s here, and I’m pretty sure he’s available. Would you like to speak to him?”
“Please.”
“Office 17. Knock before you enter, of course.”
“Of course.” Does she think I’m an idiot?
Office 17 is a tricky one on virtually every floor since it gets no direct light, being blocked by another high-rise. Mr. Szostak was one of the people who believed he was guilty of criminally negligent herbicide since he’d never been able to keep a plant alive in his office. Now he has several thriving beauties.
I knock lightly, and he calls for me to come in.
“Virginia! Nice to see you so soon. Do your thing.”
“I’m actually here to ask about my contract.”
“Oh. Well then, please have a seat.” He points to the chair facing him. “Remind me of your company’s name.”
“The Other Side of the Fence.”
“Right.” He chuckles. “The grass is always greener. Clever.” He taps some keys. “All right, I’ve got your signed contract here. What are you wondering about?”
“What do I need to do to prevent it from renewing? Or better yet, to break it early?”
37. Will
BETTING ON THE WRONG HORSE
“She did what?”
“I’m just the messenger.” Horse sighs. He hates drama.
Having to carry my phone, take my calls, and react as I would to whatever new catastrophe has arisen is stressing him out. “I don’t think I can be a credible go-between with HR on this, Will. I think you need to let all the relevant staff know you were careless and lost your cell. Give them your burner number for the next couple of weeks.”
“You’re a clever asshole,” I say. “That way, I get to deal with all your work and all the bullshit coming at me. Two-for-one deal.”
“Or, we could …” Horse pauses, and I know exactly where he’s heading.
I finish his thought. “Or we could swap back to our normal selves.”
“Have you noticed how much of a prima donna Aiden is? If he becomes the new Come Into Power speaker, the hotels are going to beg for your second coming.”
“Whatever. And no, I don’t want to swap back. I have things I still want to do under the radar. You really are a lucky asshole. It’s like nobody cares where you go, what you do.”
