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I turned to find one of the young interns looking at me. Recognizing me, she blushed, “Oh, I’m sorry Mr. Sagarro, please have my lunch.”
Jesus, as if I was going to start eating my employees’ lunch!
I walked out of the kitchen and decided to pop over to my favorite sushi bar.
I tried calling Evie again but she didn’t answer.
I didn’t even know where she lived.
How was that possible?
I called the office and asked to be put through to one of the HR staff, but not Jill. I didn’t want her knowing that I wanted Evie’s home address. I could only imagine to what conclusions she might jump. She wouldn’t be wrong, of course, but that had nothing to do with it. I told someone that I wanted to send Evie flowers as she was having a personal crisis.
“Can I take care of that for you, Sir?” the HR lady asked.
“Ah, no. I want to do it myself,” I said.
“O-kay,” she said, and I could hear she thought it strange. I was obviously not the kind of boss who took flowers to employees’ houses. But she gave me the address and as soon as I’d eaten enough, I headed over to Evie’s place. It was in the student part of town, lots of boxy apartments jumbled together on crowded streets. So many young people, I almost forgot what it was like to be that young, barely out of diapers but ready to conquer the world.
I found her apartment and got in easily enough.
It was an ugly apartment building with dirty walls and stained floors. Good Lord, Evie lived here? There was no elevator, only a staircase that smelled of beer and urine. I slowed down my pace, careful not to put my designer sneakers into anything disgusting. I’d probably throw them away later anyway.
I knocked on her door.
A buxom Latina girl opened the door.
“Yes?”
“I’m looking for Evie?”
“Why?” she stared me down. I liked the attitude.
“I’m her boss,” I said.
“You mean, you were her boss.”
Ouch.
“Is she here?”
“Nope,” the girl said, still standing in the doorway.
“Do you want to leave a message?”
I looked at her and considered my options. I had a feeling she knew a lot of what was going on, perhaps more than I did. I knew people didn’t give me credit for being too clued up when it came to other people and their feelings, but I was a pretty good reader of people and this girl could help me.
“Can I come in?” I asked, giving her one of my most charming smiles.
Her eyes narrowed, but she opened the door and stepped back.
Inside, the place was small and grubby. Laundry hung on a rack by the window to dry. The couch was ratty, with a throw over the back and some faded cushions trying for some character against the back. There were books and paper everywhere, I was guessing the roommate was a student.
“Okay, so what do you want?” the girl crossed her arms and looked at me like I was trying to sell her car insurance even though she didn’t have a car.
“You’re friends with Evie,” I stated. “You care about her.”
She looked at me consideringly.
