CHAPTER SIX
Nora
‘Corey, where ya been? They’re already in the conference room.’
If I hadn’t accidentally gotten out of the lift at level eight out of habit, I might have made it on time.
I adjusted the blue glasses I’d worn despite Corey’s scowl and handed my brown leather briefcase to the man who also wore a pair.
I’d been so hellbent on making sure Corey knew everything about my work, I’d forgotten to ask about his.
Assuming this guy was his assistant was a guess I hoped would pay off, though I was disappointed in myself for presumptuously assuming his assistant was female all this time.
‘Pop this in my office, would you?’
Thankfully, he took the briefcase from my hand without hesitation, and I turned left to the large windows I assumed housed the conference room.
I twisted back to watch the man walk into my office so I could make a mental note of it.
Back right, second door from the corner.
Easy. If Corey could wobble into the Dreyton lobby like a baby deer, I could stride into the meeting like a sheep in wolf’s clothing.
Afterwards, I planned to scramble inside those four walls and wait the day out in panicked privacy.
I pushed open the doors of the conference room and joined the already-crowded table. All the hushed whispers fell to silence as every pair of eyes faced me.
‘Can we help you, Mr Flemmington?’ a blonde lady asked.
‘I’m here for the meeting.’ I gave them a nod and settled into my chair.
‘Um, I think they’re expecting you next door.’
My furrowed brows and vacant eyes must have conveyed my confusion, because someone else spoke through the silence.
‘We don’t really need any financial help for Simon’s farewell party. We’re all putting in for it.’
Shit. I’d joined some party-planning meeting.
I cleared my throat and stood. ‘No worries. Just thought I’d stop in to check.’
I towered over the table like a giant, my presence more than the tiny square inch I normally took up.
Overbearing, intimidating, ridiculous. I hammered my fist onto the table like a gavel for reasons I’ll never know and left the room.
Instead of finding the conference room next door on the left, I turned into a curry-infused staffroom.
Shit. Wrong place, again.
I raced back past the large windows, and everyone turned to watch my run of shame as my jacket flapped behind me.
At the next door, I creaked it open to a large, bald man at the end of the table. He stopped speaking while I searched for an empty seat, and his bushy eyebrows covered his glare as they knitted together.
‘Good of you to join us, Mr Flemmington.’
‘Traffic,’ I croaked with the confidence of a dying frog.
I reached to play with the ends of my non-existent hair, instead wiggling my fingers through the air above my shoulder. The bald man’s gaze tracked my hand, his eyebrows lowering even further.
‘Well, find a seat,’ he insisted.
My long, oaf legs had me in an empty chair in no time.
‘Did you bring the projected revenue?’ The bald man held my gaze.
The memory of handing my briefcase to Corey’s assistant slapped me with annoyance, and my scalp tingled as I prepared for my incompetent revelation.
‘My apologies, it’s in my briefcase.’
My assertiveness wasn’t going as planned. The bald man’s face reddened as I awaited steam to blow out his ears at any moment.
‘Well, where is it?’
‘In my office.’
‘Then go and get it,’ he roared.
Tall, muscular men don’t cry in meetings, I reminded myself as I blinked furiously and scrambled from the room.
My phone buzzed as I walked into Corey’s bland office.
There were a few frames on the wall, and his desk was almost bare.
Save for the few stacks of paper piled to the left, it could be mistaken for a display office.
His office had no personality at all. I pulled out my phone and stared at the screen.
A message from Hayley last night, responding to my bus stop problem with, lovers are always a suspect during a murder investigation, and one from Corey.
Corey: Everything going okay?
Could he sense his impending doom from a few blocks away?
Nora: Perfect.
I stared at the locked briefcase with dread, the code in my mind jumbled with the data I’d been analysing for Gerry’s Gym yesterday. Too many numbers, too many problems, nowhere near enough solutions.
Nora: Actually, what was the briefcase code again?
Corey: You should already be in that meeting. 7923.
I twisted the metal numbers until the lock popped open, and instead of wasting time sorting through pages for the revenue report, I tucked the entire briefcase under my arm and raced towards the conference room.
‘What are you doing, man?’ Corey’s assistant looked like he wanted to slap me.
‘I needed my briefcase.’ I lifted it like a kid during show and tell.
‘You’re already walking a thin rope. This is a shitty stunt to pull.’
‘I’m not pulling anything.’ My eyes widened like a sad puppy.
‘You should get back in there.’ He shook his head and refused to meet my gaze.
Finance managers didn’t take orders from their assistant, and I needed to play the part – even if it made me sound like an asshole.
I pushed my glasses up my nose and peered through the lens like my grandmother did the first (and only) time she saw me in a midriff.
‘I think we need to organise a meeting later to discuss appropriate workplace conversations.’
He looked like I’d told him I’d injected snake venom into his vein, so I took the opportunity to flee while figuring out my next move.
What would Corey do?
When Corey arrived late to class, he walked neither faster nor slower and simply set himself up as though he’d arrived at exactly the time he should have.
He didn’t bump into chairs or fumble with pens.
He barely even apologised. Instead, he slipped in with a quick ‘sorry’ and everything continued like normal.
I passed the scrunched faces of the windowed party-planner room – yet again – and strode into the conference room.
‘Sorry.’ My head dipped with a quick, no-nonsense nod as I continued to my seat.
My enormous new foot size caught on the leg of someone’s chair and, somehow, I threw my briefcase into the air, unlocked, releasing the papers, which fluttered through the air like a confetti bomb while I stared from the ground.
I was horrified. Mortified. Zip me into a body bag and take me to the morgue.
‘Sorry.’ I jumped to my feet and scooped the stray papers into a messy pile.
They’d made it from one end of the room to the other, and the bald man picked up the piece that had fluttered onto the desk in front of him.
‘Care to explain?’ He turned the page to face me, which displayed a cartoon drawing of what appeared to be him as an enraged rhinoceros.
‘Eerily similar,’ I chirped.
My gaze darted between him and the doodle, and his forehead crease deepened with each second.
I snatched the drawing from his hand (thank God for Corey’s long arms) and stuffed it into the middle of my messy pile so he couldn’t find it again.
I glanced down and realised luck was finally on my side.
The report sat on top, and my shoulders sagged with relief.
‘Here we go,’ I cried in delight.
I grabbed the paper and displayed it for everyone to see.
‘I think we should park this meeting and pick it up again tomorrow.’ A man at the back stood from his seat.
If Corey had a heart, it sunk. Or maybe that was my heart? I had no idea whose organs were in which body.
‘I want to see you in my office.’ The bald man pointed at me.
Body by body, the conference room cleared as I tried to sort through the ridiculous mix of papers Corey kept in his briefcase.
I sorted them into piles of drawings (they were really good, and I wondered where he’d gotten them from), reports, and things I didn’t understand.
I started to swirl the lock pad to limit another confetti drop, when the bald man poked his head back into the room.
‘What’s taking so long?’ he snapped.
‘There’s a difference between a good job and a rushed job.’ I jerked my head up with wide eyes, cursing myself for forgetting to play the part of Corey.
Based on the devilish look in his eyes, this man was furious.
‘I wanted to ensure I wouldn’t waste your time again with this briefcase. The clasp must be faulty or something.’ That should save this conversation.
‘My office. Now.’ The bald man spun his round body around, taking his terrible communication skills with him out the door.
I pulled my phone out of my pocket, fingers desperate to text Hayley about my terrible day.
It didn’t matter how I tried to word the message, I couldn’t reveal anything without sounding like I’d gone mad.
Even if she did believe me, she’d swoon over us being forced together instead of seeing it as a catastrophic problem.
Confident I could worm my way out of whatever trouble I’d caused at work before we swapped bodies, I slid my phone back into my pocket. With a quick re-tuck of my shirt and check of my jacket for marks, I took a deep breath, then knocked on the wooden door.
‘Come in,’ his gruff voice called out.
A book had insisted on the importance of body language, so with my chin held high, I entered the room and waited in front of his desk for an invitation to sit.
Let him see that he called the shots. People in charge loved the feeling of delegating.
Dominating assholes. I wasn’t going to be like that.
I’d already decided on my leadership style, but this was fantastic research on leadership styles I didn’t want to mimic.
‘What the hell are you doing?’ He frowned.
‘Ah…’
‘Sit down,’ he yelled. ‘What the hell is going on with you today? You need to go home or something?’
Home. That’s exactly where I needed to go.
‘I’m, ah, having a difficult morning.’
‘Go home, you’re no use here today.’
Unsure of what to say, I nodded, picked up my briefcase, and just about ran to the elevators to put some distance between Corey’s body and this place.
Especially that bald-headed bull of a man.