AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Comparing the printout from yesterday, I see the overall loss on the bottom line, but can’t pin down which account within the portfolio it came from or where the money went to. Being a numbers guy, needing everything to add up to the penny, this pisses me off. Clients trust me and I will not be made to look a fool.
A soft knock taps against the doorframe and I peer up from the data to see Garrett. He leans against the jam and crosses his ankles, cool as a cucumber while my heart balls up its fists and violently beats my rib cage.
“Ready for your meeting?”
No. Yes. No.
Either way, I have no choice in the matter. “Yep.” I shuffle the papers on my desk and sit taller, hoping the change in posture will boost my confidence. “Gathering the documents now.”
“Hmm.” Out of the corner of my eye, Garrett straightens and studies me from the doorway. Something about his stare throws me off today. Sweat beads at my temples as I tidy the portfolio printout. “Sure you’ll do fine.”
Unease swells beneath my diaphragm, an unfamiliar sensation—at work and in my personal life. And I don’t like it. Not one bit.
As if sensing my discomfort, Garrett steps back, mutters his farewell, and walks off to his office. Without his eyes on me, I feel less under the microscope. The unease lifts some, but not enough that the panic fades.
Get through this meeting. Then, sort out where the money went.
Fuck.
The office phone buzzes on my desk and I pick up the receiver. “Howell.”
“Mr. Howell, Mr. and Mrs. Barron are here for your eleven o’clock.”
I close my eyes and inhale as deeply and quietly as possible. “Thanks, Meaghan. I’ll be up in a minute.”
Parking the receiver back in the cradle, I take a second deep breath, hold it until my lungs scream, and release my thoughts from a moment ago.
Get through this meeting.
Who knows? Maybe there is a glitch with the software. A technology malfunction. It has to be that. Right? What other viable explanation is there?
* * *
By the end of the meeting, my armpits are drenched. I pray the unending sweat pools haven’t leached into my dress shirt and my deodorant hasn’t failed me. If so, Mr. and Mrs. Barron don’t point it out.
We rise from our seats and shake hands before I guide them out front. Soon as they exit the building, I breathe easier. Although the problem isn’t resolved, I no longer have them lingering while I search for answers. Thank whoever the hell watches over me that they didn’t question their balances either.
The door click is ten times louder as I reenter my office and shut the door. The chair behind the sturdy mahogany desk complains as I sit. My head drops in my hands as the heels of my palms mash into my eyes.
How the hell will I fix this?
With no other in-office appointments today, I have time to scour data for answers. Dig line by line until I get answers. The planned outbound calls can wait.
Wiggling the mouse, I wake up the computer and enter my credentials. As the Barron account loads on the screen, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I yank the device out to see a text notification from Skylar.
Skylar: Lunch?
Lawrence: Want to, but I need to work. Project.
Skylar: How about I deliver something? You need sustenance ??
Lawrence: You’re amazing. Thank you.
Skylar: Requests?
Lawrence: Whatever you get is fine.
Skylar: See you soon.
