I laughed and shook my head at Anita’s silliness. At least one of us was comfortably settling into the executive suite. My taste for luxury had finally met its match in the extravagance of this office. Although I loved it, I still couldn’t understand why it put me on edge.
*
A few minutes later, I headed down the hall to the ladies’ room. For all my doubts, I had to admit, life on Twenty was 100 percent better. The HVAC system worked gloriously on this floor and the bathroom was much closer to my office for my navy-bean-size bladder. On my way to the restroom, I spotted Jonathan standing at his assistant’s desk, laughing.
“Excuse me, Jonathan, can I speak with you for a minute?”
He glanced down at his Rolex. I ignored the gesture. If he had time to yuck it up with his assistant, he had time for a colleague’s question. “Sure. What’s on your mind?”
“I can’t get access to any of Michael’s emails. I know the IT Department rolls up to you, so I was hoping you could make a call for me.”
“Emails? Why would you want Michael’s emails? We use shared files up here on Twenty. Maybe have your assistant show you how it works. You should be able to find everything you need in the shared drives.”
Goodness, this guy was a major prick. “I understand how shared files work. But I need access to some of his correspondence he might have had with outside counsel. Things like that. Can you make the call?”
“Sure. I’ll call downstairs.” He gave me a face full of annoyance, like I was a child who’d spilled milk he would have to clean up. “Anything else?”
His assistant darted a glance between the two of us before she went back to her monitor.
“Do you think I could get that access today?”
He sighed deeply. “Let me see what I can do.” He turned his back to me and started up with his assistant again. I had the distinct feeling he wouldn’t be in a rush to pick up the phone to call anyone on my behalf. He had obviously mistaken my civility for weakness.
Asshole.
*
A little later, I sat at my desk thinking about Vera and Sam and the argument from the night before. I hated arguing with him. He was the only blood relative I had—that I knew of. Maybe he was still mad at me, but there was only one way to find out. I picked up my cell and hit the quick dial button for his number.
He picked up on the first ring. “Ellie?”
“Hey, did I catch you at a bad time?”
“Nah. On my way out, though.” He sounded rushed, preoccupied. “Wait, I thought you couldn’t talk when you’re at work. Everything okay?”
“Yeah . . . yeah. I just . . . look, I’m sorry about last night at Vera’s.” Apologizing to Sam was never hard for me. I’d done a lifetime of things for which I was always asking for his forgiveness.
There was a long pause. I wanted to fill up the space, but I didn’t know what to say. I was the queen of screwing up my personal relationships. I wouldn’t blame him if he hung up on me. But he didn’t.
“It’s nothing. Forget it.” Typical Sam. Never holding a grudge. Always ready to move on.
“No, you’re right. I can be a bitch. I’m sorry. Stop by my place tonight. I can lend you the money.”
“Nah. Don’t worry about it.”
“What do you mean?”
“You were right last night. I’m a grown-ass man. I need to do better. I been talking to Juice.”
“Juice? Why?”
“He’s got a buddy, friend of a friend, who hooked me up with some work and he’s got some more.”
“What does that mean?” I could sense another argument in the air, so I tried to soft-pedal things. “Sam, you’re not getting into more trouble, are you?”
“No. It’s all legit. It’s all on the up-and-up.”
“What kind of work?”
“I don’t have all the details yet. Look, I gotta run. I’ll call you later.”
“Promise?”
“I promise. We’re good.”
My guilt eased. “Okay. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
I clicked off the phone. I remember when Sam was little. He used to collect new pennies he found on the street or in Vera’s sofa cushions. Always the bright new copper pennies. Never the old ones. What bright, new shiny thing was he chasing now?
Chapter 12
A couple hours later, I hustled inside Houghton’s boardroom, a glass-enclosed structure on one end of the twentieth floor affectionately called the Fish Bowl. Not surprisingly, I was the first to arrive. I planned it that way. I always liked to know what goes on before a meeting. Decisions are made in the “premeeting,” the off-site lunches, and the Saturday morning golf rounds.