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“After that, I’ll get all your access set up. All the programs you’ll likely need for portability are preloaded onto your laptop. This desktop has a few others for when we’re guiding field ops and need faster processing speed.”
“Makes sense. What will I do while you do that?”
“I’ll show you where the SOPs are saved. You can start reading through those. You’ll need to be familiar with our procedures.”
Already am, but he probably doesn’t want to know that.
He continues. “You’ll need to know the guards’ procedures and those for internal staff. You should know what everyone does here.”
For the most part, I already do. Again, not telling him that.
“So I’ll be reading all day?”
“Let’s start there,” the bland one decrees. “I have to trust that you know this shit like the back of your fucking hand, because when shit goes ass up— and it usually does— you need to be able to act without thinking. Lives depend on it.”
Oh, colorful language. I like it. Far less bland.
“Yes, sir,” I toss playfully, even adding a two-finger salute.
Not to be confused with a one-finger salute. Tomer’s brow furrows at my attempt at humor.
I smile and tap his arm. “Lighten up.”
Before Tomer can reply, Klein cuts in from behind me. “Tomer doesn’t like to be calledsir,but Boss does. It’s a show of respect. Be sure you do that next time.”
Oh shit. I didn’t call him sir this morning. Did I do it during my interview? I can’t remember. But wait…
Twisting in my chair, I face Klein. “You didn’t call himsir.”
“We’ve known him a long time, and he’s given us permission to call him Big Al or Boss. But he likes new people to call himsir.”
Why does his expression remind me of a cocky squirrel with big nuts?
Tomer groans loudly, making me spin to face him.
“What do you want me to do, T? Keep working on the coding changes to Big Brother like you showed me?” Klein asks.
Like a freaking ballerina doll, I spin back. Dammit. I’m getting dizzy. I no longer like this three-way seating arrangement. Luckily, this chair swivels.
“Yeah, that’ll be good.”
“Coding changes?” I ask, unable to fight the hint of glee in my tone. “Would this have anything to do with my little… uh… test?”
“What do you think?” Klein snaps. Then he throws in his earbuds and gets to work.
I take a cleansing sigh and studiously avoid watching the way Klein’s skilled hands roam over the keyboard.
Unfortunately, memories of how he pinched and rolled my nipples between those deft fingers pop unbidden into my mind. In response, my high beams flash on.
Immediately, I toss my sweater on to hide them. It’s cold in here, so it’s not like he’d know it was because of him, but I don’t need to give him any ideas.
With my nips hidden from everyone’s view, I tell Tomer I’m ready, and he pulls up a database on his screen, asking me to slide closer.
“This is our client management program.”
I know.
“Uh-huh,” I respond.
