Total pages in book: 65
Estimated words: 61440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 61440 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 307(@200wpm)___ 246(@250wpm)___ 205(@300wpm)
I cock an eyebrow. “Does she know she’s making less than her male counterpart on the west coast…who’s dealing with a significantly smaller staff and has less experience and education?”
Jack leans back against his desk, folding his arms across his muscled chest. “Do I even want to know how you came by that information?”
“Probably not. But if I’m going to prove this is a widespread issue, I need more than hearsay. I really would like to peruse her files, to see who’s applied for various positions and who’s been granted interviews—not just management, but all levels.”
“What are you hoping to find?”
“Just following up on a hunch, looking to connect a few dots. I’m not going to publish confidential information—nothing that links back to individual employees. You could even strip out names—I’m only interested in gender. And I don’t need discipline records or worker’s comp claims or anything like that. Do you think you could make those files available to me? I’d rather not have to suck up to Blair, if I don’t absolutely have to.”
He nods as he stands, moving away from his desk. “All right. I’ll need to run a script to pull out personal identifiers, but I can get you what you need.” He glances at his watch and lets out a sigh. “But I won’t have time until after closing bell. Can you stay late?”
“Sure.” I follow him to the door and head back to my desk, trying not to feel disappointed that things are so…normal between us.
What were you expecting, El? A red-hot make-out session after the morning meeting?
No. Normal is good. Now I don’t have to worry about one silly kiss messing up our friendship or Jack’s relationship with my brother.
Everything is great. I’m carrying my weight as Eric, getting good material as Ellie, clicking with most of my team, and I even manage to grab a sandwich from the break room before they’re all gone. It’s pimento cheese, however, so I opt for a crust-nibble and toss the rest in the trash.
Unless it comes in a bag and goes crunch, cheese was never meant to be that processed or pimento-ed.
I have strong opinions about treating cheese with the dignity it deserves, and therefore I am starving by the time five o’clock rolls around. By six, my stomach is pitching a fit, but Jack’s office door is closed and there are serious hard-at-work murmurings from behind it, so I cruise back into the break room. But the organic snack machine does not care for my credit card—it probably heard I eat Cheetos and is being judgmental—and without my purse I have nowhere to scrounge for change.
“Oh, cruel world,” I mutter, sagging back against the wall.
I’m being dramatic, of course, but by seven o’clock, the hunger pains aren’t funny. Neither is the lightheadedness or the cramping in my hollow stomach. Finally, I’m forced to knock on Jack’s door.
He answers with his phone to his ear and holds up one finger.
I shake my head and mouth, “Starving.” My stomach echoes the sentiment with a long growl. Jack nods, holding up that single finger again before retreating to his desk.
What happens after that is a bit of a blur, but the next thing I know, I’m sitting on the floor outside his office and Jack is shaking me awake with a worried frown. “Ellie? Jesus, are you okay? You scared me.”
“What happened?” I ask, head spinning as I focus on Jack’s face.
“You slid down the wall.” His fingers curl around the back of my neck in a way that makes me even more lightheaded. “I think you passed out. Did you eat anything at all today?”
I smack my lips a couple times, trying to remember. “Not since breakfast.”
Jack scowls. “Why not? What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking that pimento cheese is vile, and the snack machine wouldn’t take my card.” I frown back at him. “I’m used to working right next to my fridge. It’s a learning curve.”
He shakes his head with a sigh. “And you’re not used to working for a slave driver who keeps you at the office all night. This is my fault. Come on. We’re getting you food. Stat.”
“But what about—”
“I can access the company database from my place. We’ll get Chinese to go, make sure you have enough fuel to keep from passing out, and I’ll print the records for you before you head home.” I start to protest, but Jack cuts me off with a hand held in the air. “I insist. I’m not sending you out into the streets like this. If you pass out on a subway platform and something happens to you, I’ll never forgive myself.”
I shudder. “I have nightmares about passing out on the subway platform and smelling like pee for the rest of my life.”
Jack cracks up, the sound of it filling me with longing. “All the more reason you’re coming home with me. My apartment is a pee-free zone. At least the, uh… Okay, not sure where I was going with that.” He offers his hand to help me up, his smile tentative. “So. You, me, Chinese, files?”