Chapter 8
The move
Shelley sat at her desk, tapping a pen against her notebook as she mulled over how to deal with Gray's absence for the next month. Before she settled on a plan, a shadow filled her doorway. Without looking up, she knew who it was.
"What the hell is this?" a booming voice shouted.
Ah, Dr. Mark Cameron—grumpy, self-important, and always frustrated. Shelley let out a slow breath before raising her eyes to meet his.
"Well, hon, it looks like a piece of paper. Do I win a prize?" She smirked, unable to resist poking the bear. He loved throwing his weight around, especially with the assistants and support staff.
Dr. Cameron strode into the room, his bulk making her small office feel even smaller. He slapped the paper onto her desk. "I asked for line graphs, not this lazy excuse for a bar graph. You either didn't listen or couldn't bother to do it right."
Shelley glanced at the paper and then back up at him, unfazed. Years of sun exposure had weathered his face, making him look older than his 30-something years. He had a broad chest and seemed to prefer wearing t-shirts slightly too small, so he always looked like he was about to burst out of them.
"Yes, you asked for line graphs," she said evenly.
"And if you'd read the notes I sent along, you'd know I chose a bar graph because it supports your hypothesis better.
It shows the years side by side, so there is longevity to your project.
I assumed you wanted something that would impress the funding committee.
" She leant back in her chair, fixing him with a sweet but pointed smile.
He hesitated, then snatched the paper back and scanned it again. Slowly, he sank into the chair across from her; the fight draining from his posture.
"Well... damn," he admitted grudgingly. "You're right; this strengthens my case. Sorry, Shelley. I shouldn't have jumped down your throat. I'm under a lot of pressure. If this proposal doesn't get funded, the entire project's dead in the water. I'll have to start over and chase down another grant."
Shelley saw the spark of desperation in his eyes and felt a familiar flicker of inspiration. If she helped him polish his proposal, maybe his project could edge out Gray's for funding. And if Gray didn't get the grant, he wouldn't leave for a month.
"Well, Dr. Cameron," she said casually, but he cut her off.
"Shelley, if you helped me finish this, I could get it submitted before that newbie Gray does. What do you say?"
Three things clicked into place in Shelley's mind. First, Dr. Cameron always had to believe an idea was his own. Second, if she played this right, he might get the funding, not Gray. And third, there was no way in hell she'd tell him Gray had already submitted his proposal.
"Wonderful plan!" She said brightly, standing and grabbing her notebook. "Let's grab some food and head to the boardroom. We'll knock this out in no time. Have you tried the taco stand a few blocks away? It's a mom and son place, and they have the best fish tacos I've ever had."
He nodded; the relief clear on his face. Shelley grabbed her bag, forcing her lips into a smile as she followed him out.
Inside, she was already mapping out her next move.