Total pages in book: 138
Estimated words: 129191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129191 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Stephanie’s still a little confused. “But they don’t know they’re both dating her?” Her eyes fall to the floor, ticking left and right as she thinks. “Or at least we don’t think they do.”
The idea hangs in the air heavily. “Maybe they’re in it together?” I ask. “I mean, this is the Twenty-First Century.”
“I told you it might be a throuple thing,” Megan reminds us but then quickly switches back to all business. “We need to tell someone.”
I ignore Megan’s quip, in boss mode. “I know what to do.”
Part of me wants to run upstairs and talk to Daniel, lay out the data, and let him make the same connections we have. But I’m not sure the direct approach is the best one when our own situation is convoluted too. So, I make the next-best step and pick up my phone, hitting a number on speed dial.
“Hello?” a deep voice says.
“Ricky, I need you to come to my office right now, please,” I tell him. “It’s an emergency.”
“Are you okay?” he asks sharply. “Do you need help?”
Touched, I show him affection the way he understands it best—by fucking with him. “Yes, but nothing serious,” I tell him, “I’m totally fine, but there’s a dead body I need you to deal with. The FedEx man finally pushed me over the edge.”
He grunts, not playing along, and I huff in disappointment. “Fine, there’s no body. But I need to talk to you.”
“Can it wait?” he asks. “I’m kind of in the middle of something.”
“Sorry, Rocksteady,” I tell him, hoping I’m really not trumping something that vital. “It can’t. It’s important.”
I hear him whisper something to someone, probably Billy. But hopefully not Miranda. A moment later, he comes back on. “I’ll be right down.”
I don’t wait for Ricky to come downstairs. Instead, I’m waiting impatiently, stalking back and forth in the hallway and watching the stairs as I shovel peanut butter crackers into my mouth like a squirrel storing acorns for the winter.
This is major.
Or it might be.
What if it’s nothing?
I don’t know for sure, but everything in my gut tells me that something is wrong.
Ricky always skips the elevator unless he’s with Daniel, and I hear him coming from half a flight up. Thud, thud, thud, thud, like a baby rhino dropping ten inches at a time. His footsteps are even louder as he comes into sight. His eyes meet mine and do a quick and clinical head to toe scan to make sure I’m truly okay, and though I’m fine, he must see something in my eyes because he picks up the pace.
Or maybe it’s the extra cracker I stuff into my already full mouth, orange crumbs cascading down my blouse to tumble to the floor for the janitorial team to take care of.
“What’s wrong?”
I grab him by a bulky carved bicep and drag him toward the office, as if I could drag him anywhere without his cooperation. I give Megan and Stephanie a pointed look as we pass by them.
“We’ll hold any calls for you,” Stephanie says, saluting. “Nice to see you, Ricky.”
I shoo them out and close the door, giving us some privacy for this conversation. I swallow thickly and take a big drink of water from the bottle on my desk. “What do you know about Mark and Brandon in Acquisitions?”
Ricky’s face goes hard and blank, immediately telegraphing that he knows something and isn’t willing to share with the class. “Why? What do you know?”
I shake my head and cap my water purely out of habit. “Asked you first.”
“This ain’t first grade, Tiff,” he growls. “Tell me what’s going on.”
“I think you should check them out,” I tell him simply. “They’re up to something.”
“Like what? You think they’re stealing toilet paper or company intel?” he asks. “Those are kinda different things. Tell me more.”
“Can I trust you?”
He gives me a withering look. “You called me, remember?”
I think it through and realize he’s my only option. Quickly, I tell him what I saw and heard, keeping it to a ‘just the facts’ version without much speculation until the end. “So I’m thinking there’s some mighty hinky shit going on between Mark, Brandon, and this Layla. Maybe I’m wrong, and they’re just setting up a devil’s triangle. But I doubt it.”
Ricky’s face has gone from thundery to homicidal, his jaw clenched down so hard I can hear his teeth grinding. “I don’t like it, not a bit. I’m going to kill them both. And then you.”
“Me?” I protest. “I didn’t do anything!”
“Except go near guys you already knew were potential creeps,” Ricky says, and I have to roll my eyes.
“Or you could look at it as me protecting my staff from them. I mean, Megan up there? No way.” I draw a line across the desk, indicating my hard limit. “Can you just look into them?”