Chapter 7
Chapter Seven
Bing, bang, boom—I got a job.
The benefits package contained a salary offer for the position of Senior Fiscal Project Coordinator, which I read three times before I actually comprehended that the number was real and that I wasn’t misreading the placement of the decimal point in relation to the zeros.
I tried to Google Cypher Systems but, other than finding a very slick, graphics-heavy web page facade and an inquiry form for potential clients, the search results were unhelpful.
The lack of information available left me feeling pensive and unprepared for the interview.
If they asked me why I was interested in the position, I wasn’t sure how I would answer the question honestly.
I didn’t know anything about the company other than that they provided security for the Fairbanks Building and Club Outrageous, and the position apparently paid twice my previous annual salary.
Oh, and they hired supermodel security guards a la Quinn Sullivan.
Cypher Systems was located on the top floor of the Fairbanks Building. Olivia’s instructions indicated that I should check in with security on the lobby level, after which a security guard would escort me to the Cypher Systems offices.
It seemed one needed quite a lot of escorting experience in order to be a security guard for Cypher Systems.
My escort’s nametag labeled him as Dan, and he was shorter than me, especially as I was wearing sky-blue silk stilettos.
He appeared to be my age or a few years older, stocky, and was thick-necked with swirling tattoos just visible beneath the blue collar of his uniform.
Dan gave me a plain once over as he walked me to an elevator.
When we got to it, he didn’t push a button as one would normally do, but instead placed his palm against a glass screen.
The screen retracted to reveal a keypad.
Dan then punched in a series of numbers and waited.
“You’re very big,” he said.
I gave him a cursory smile. “Yes. I ate all my vegetables as a child.” This was my standard response when someone remarked on my size.
For some reason, it always irked me when people felt it necessary to draw attention to my height as though I wasn’t aware of my larger than average stature.
I once responded, “Yes, and you’re very small.
” That didn’t go over very well, even though it was true.
Dan chuckled at my canned response and waved me into the elevator.
I realized I’d never noticed this lift before.
When we walked in, I further noticed there was only one destination button.
Dan was quiet the rest of the ride even though his eyes continued to move over me in unhidden appraisal, and the corner of his mouth curved in a friendly, lopsided smile.
I was silent and had to half-yawn in order to pop my ears as we traveled upward.
The elevator doors opened to an impressive view of the city behind an all-glass reception desk.
The light was almost blinding. I swallowed nervously and smoothed my free hand down the hips of my beige tailored jacket and skirt as I stepped onto the landing.
My other hand gripped the letter-sized portfolio at my side, which contained copies of my resume and letters of recommendation from college professors.
Dan didn’t leave the elevator but rather spoke from behind me. “Keira at the reception desk will take care of you.”
I turned to thank him, but the doors had already closed. Straightening, I walked to the glass desk and paused before it. The woman, who I presumed to be Keira, was on a phone call.
She lifted her brown eyes to mine, raised a single finger, and said into her headset, “Just one moment; let me track him down for you.” She then pressed a series of buttons on a phone that looked very high-tech.
The first thing I noticed about Keira was that her black hair was in such a tight bun that it looked painful.
It seemed to pull at the corners of her eyes and mouth, giving her the appearance of a perpetually smiling cat.
She turned a Cheshire grin on me and said, “May I assist you?”
“Uh, yes. I have an appointment with Carlos Davies.”
“Oh? An appointment? And what is your name?”
I swallowed again; my mouth was very dry. “I’m Janie Morris. I’m here for an interview.”
Keira moved her attention to an impressively large monitor on her desk and nodded. “Yes, here you are. Today is your first day, right?”
I opened my mouth and a small squeak came out before I said, “No, no—I’m just here for an interview.”
She moved her attention back to me, confusion clouding her angular features. “But, didn’t Mr. Sullivan recruit you?”
“I wasn’t recruited. Qui—I mean, Mr. Sullivan arranged for the interview.”
I was interrupted by a new voice. “Ah, you must be Janie Morris.”
I turned to my left and tried to smile warmly at the approaching man but was struck momentarily speechless.
With my heels on, he was exactly my height, and he was the definition of what my friend Ashley liked to call a brown sugar hottie.
His dark chocolate eyes were framed with long, black lashes, his skin was warm olive, and he had a slow, easy smile bracketed by dimples.
He wore a gray suit, a white shirt, and a silver tie.
“Yes, I’m Janie,” I half croaked as I extended my hand. He enclosed my hand in both of his and gave it a firm, professional shake.
“I’m Carlos. I’m so glad you could start on such short notice. Come with me; I’ll get you settled in.”
“I—start?” My voice was strained and hoarse, so I cleared my throat. “Um, wait. I—that is, I was under the impression that this was an interview.”
Carlos blinked his pretty lashes at me, his smile waning but not disappearing. “Oh, I see.” His eyes moved between mine, his gaze still warm. “Certainly, we can start with an interview if you wish.” He turned and motioned for me to follow him down the hall.
If I wish?
I matched his stride and tried to suppress a new flutter of uncertainty as I walked next to him. “I have extra copies of my resume if you need them.”
He chuckled softly. “No, no need. We’ve done a background check; you’re very qualified, and you have excellent references.”
My face warmed at the compliment, but I wasn’t sure I deserved it. He led me past a series of offices, and I noted the lack of cubicles. He paused at one office and asked me to wait a moment. I heard him ask the inhabitant to join us, and then we continued.
Carlos’s office was moderately sized, not huge, but not small either, and seemed to be only slightly larger than the rest of the rooms we’d passed. He motioned for me to sit in one of two brown leather club chairs as he walked around his desk.
“So, Ms. Morris, why don’t you start by telling me about yourself.” His voice was very soothing, and his brown eyes sparkled as he leaned back in his chair.
I was doing my best to give a good impression, choosing my words carefully and trying to stay on topic, when another man entered.
He was tall and lean, and his blond hair was disheveled as though he’d been running his hands through it.
His gray eyes peered at me from behind fashionable black horned-rimmed glasses perched on a nose that was a little too pronounced for his thin face.
He immediately crossed to me and held out his hand.
“Oh, thank God you’re here! I’m Steven; we’re going to be great friends.
” He gave me a single shake then half sank, half collapsed into the empty brown club chair next to mine.
“These people! There is so much to do. I spent this morning summarizing the projects for you.”
Carlos cleared his throat and gave Steven a friendly smile. “Ms. Morris is here for an interview. I don’t believe she has accepted the position yet.”
Steven looked between Carlos and me, his face betraying his inner horror. “What?”
Carlos dipped his head. “Steven.” His voice was thick with warning.
Steven affixed his attention squarely on me.
“Janie—can I call you Janie?” I nodded, but he didn’t wait for me to give verbal assent before he continued.
“Janie, I need help. As Carlos explained it, you are a numbers person. You have experience managing client accounts. Your references say you are a hell of an accountant. You have no criminal record. You tutor children once a week, so that means you’re good with big babies.
You look like a Scandinavian version of Diana Prince.
” I coughed at the allusion that I was Wonder Woman’s alter ego, but Steven continued.
“And, assuming you can string three words together, you’ll be a smashing success with our business partners.
I’ll be honest, Janie; they don’t like me.
I’m not pretty enough to go out in public.
I’m a hard worker and I’m a tax wizard, but I make the clients uncomfortable. You’ll do nicely.”
“Steven, Ms. Morris was just telling me about her work experience.”
Ignoring Carlos, Steven scooted his seat closer to mine and drew my attention to an iPad on his lap.
“Now, these are all the current accounts,” he said, as he trailed his finger down a column of number codes that denoted account names, and I noted that the columns had no title headings.
“And these are the payment terms…the filing terms…and here are the estimated expenditures for this quarter and the actual expenditures for last quarter. This is the project balance for the year. Got it?”
I nodded, looking over the spreadsheet. “Why don’t you use column headings?”
“They slow me down.”
“Hmm.” His response made no sense. I tried not to focus on the gargantuan size of the dollar figures but instead scrutinized the veracity of the calculated amounts.
“Your formula is wrong here…” I pointed to two separate boxes on the spreadsheet.
“…and here. Also, when did this account open? The balance should be negative if the projected expenditure column is correct.”