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I wince.
You can’t give up.
If you do, Brad Hyler wins. Again.
Once I’m certain, I won’t pass out, I straighten my shoulders.
Time to go home to work on another plan of attack.
I exit the office building, where I was turned down for a maternity leave replacement receptionist job for being overqualified, and join the millions of Manhattanites rushing about.
As I turn the corner to head to the nearest subway, my phone rings.
I fish for it inside my tote bag.
I don’t recognize the number.
Maybe it’s someone calling me for a job.
A glimmer of hope!
“Hello,” I answer.
“Amanda?”
I frown at the phone. “Um… who’s calling?”
“It’s Alistair.”
Huh?
“How did you get my personal number?”
“When we returned from our first trip to South America, I paid for the car service to drive you back to your place. You gave them this number.”
“Oh.”
“It sounds like you’re out and about.”
“I am. I’m heading towards the subway.”
“Are you going home or do you have other errands to run?”
“I’m going home.”
“How long will it take you to get there?”
“An hour.”
“I’m in Chicago on business. Why don’t I call you back in ninety minutes?”
“Alistair, I no longer work for Todd.”
“So, I’ve heard. I just hung up with him. He gave me an earful.”
“I’m sure.”
“I tried to call your work phone to give you a heads up like last time, but the number was transferred to a guy who answered in Japanese. When I called Todd, he wasn’t very gracious in letting me know you two had parted ways.”
