A Billion Little Clues Page 2

  Perfect! Professional and straight to the point. No way he could yell at me for this. I clicked the "send" button.

  Less than a minute later, I had a response. I opened it up.

  "At home. Under the weather. Trying to recover for the CEO party tonight. Why didn't you check my office??? Show more initiative. Panther is aggressive so be that way as an employee. Keith."

  Three question marks? That was a little cruel, I felt. I really didn't deserve that.

  Nonetheless, my question had been answered. Keith was at home, probably angrily sitting on the couch in his luxury apartment and angrily sipping on some orange juice that he had angrily purchased from the corner store. I couldn't see Keith doing anything unless it was in an angry way.

  Quickly, my brain dispensed with that silly mental image. Instead, I realized something much more important - this meant that Keith wouldn't be around to notice if I happened to leave a few minutes early! And really, it was almost five. I deserved to go home after all the hard work I'd been doing.

  Of course, one of the other employees could always rat me out, but I trusted that they wouldn't do that. After all, weren't we all in this together? Brothers in arms against the common enemy and all of that. Besides, I was sure that I had just as much dirt on them stored away. I still remembered how Jake had once kicked the copier and broken the container that held all the toner and it had spilled all over the floor. Or Cecilia had once put salt in Keith's coffee after he told her that she looked fat in that paisley dress. He was right, I had to admit, but she still shouldn't have been so petty.

  I gathered up my things, even grabbing a couple more folders out of my inbox for good measure. I'd walk out with them, and if anyone tried to stop me, I'd just point to the folders and keep walking. They'd assume that I was doing something very important with the folders and that I couldn't possibly be interrupted, and should even be commended for working so hard right up to the end of the day.

  The plan was foolproof.

  And sure enough, it all seemed to work. I stood up, only wobbling slightly on my newly repaired heels (one of the janitors, either out of sympathy or pity, had given me some super-strong glue in a tiny little bottle that had done a pretty good job of sticking the two pieces back together). The janitor had warned me that the glue wouldn't be totally dry for at least a day, but I figured that they were just exaggerating to be safe. It had been together for more than six hours! If we didn't have glue that stuck things together after six hours, we should be ashamed of ourselves.

  My computer turned off for the evening, my purse over one shoulder, and the all-important files tucked under one arm, I strode over to the elevator. I imagined the eyes of all the other marketing workers on me, but no one spoke up. The folders were doing their job. I pushed the button to call the lift and waited, trying not to bounce up and down too much on the glued heel.

  I was in the elevator, down to the ground floor, out of the elevator, and nearly past the security gates when I felt it. My phone, somewhere in the depths of my purse, was vibrating. Dammit.

  I was standing right near the desk of the front receptionist. I sidled over and set the file folders down on her desk, giving her a look that hopefully communicated how I was sorry about this but important business matters, you know what I mean? I set my purse down on top of the folders and dug through the contents, searching for that vibrating phone.

  Eventually, my fingers managed to find it at the bottom, underneath a pair of old sunglasses that I had been convinced I'd misplaced weeks ago. So this was where they were hiding! I pulled them aside, stuck them up on my forehead, and then picked up my phone.

  The caller ID on the phone's screen made my heart sink down into the pit of my stomach. "Keith WORK", the screen read. I hit the answer button and held the speaker up to my ear with a note of hesitation, trying to think of a good excuse.

  One of the other employees must have ratted me out! I didn't know who it was, but I would make sure that they regretted it. Next time I brought in pastries, they'd totally be getting oatmeal raisin! No chocolate frosting or buttercream filling for them! Whoever it was, they would rue the day they decided to tattle on Melinda Gaines!

  "Hello?" I said into the phone, doing my best to keep my tone neutral. I was pretty successful - it only wavered a tiny little bit. Keith probably didn't even hear it.

  "Melinda." Keith's voice sounded even more deep and gravelly than usual. I remembered how he had said he was fighting some sort of illness. The battle must be raging in his vocal chords.

  "Listen, I have some very important files that need to be, er, delivered," I cut in before the yelling could begin. "It might have looked like I was leaving early, but I needed my purse with me, um, because it has my security access key in it, and I wanted to be prepared in case any executives wanted to question me about security." I felt proud of myself. An excellent cover.

  "Whatever." Keith's rasping voice didn't sound interested. "Just get it done later. Right now, I have a different favor to ask of you."

  A favor? This could be my chance to prove myself! I thought about positivity, convincing myself that things were going to get better. This was it coming true! Positive psychology at work! "Whatever you need, boss man!" I replied, my voice brimming with excitement.

  "Don't call me that. Look, I don't think that I'm going to be getting over this flu, or whatever I've got, by the time of the party tonight." Keith was angry as usual, but for once, it wasn't directed at me. "Stupid medicine companies. I ought to sue them for false advertising. Anyway, I'd normally send Jake, or Cecilia, or anyone else, but they all have plans for tonight already and aren't available."

  I ignored the man's negativity. He needed me to go to the CEO's party tonight! I was being called up to represent the entire department in front of the other executive and division heads! I might even have a chance to meet the big man himself, Roman Wayland! I felt like bursting out into a little dance. I didn't want to embarrass myself in front of the curious receptionist, however. I could contain myself.

  "I'm totally free tonight!" I gushed into the phone. Well, I mostly contained myself. "Just send me the details! I'll totally do you proud, Keith! I'll say all sorts of great things about the Marketing department-"

  "I don't want you saying anything!" Keith cut in. This shout, however, brought on a bout of coughing. I patiently waited for him to regain his breath.

  "Look, just go there and tell everyone that I'm sorry I couldn't attend," he finally managed to gasp out after the coughing had subsided. "Nothing more. Just don't let them think that I'm skipping out because I don't care about Panther Worldwide."

  I was agreeing, but my thoughts were already far away. I only had a few hours to prepare for this party! Did I have something in my closet that I could wear? Would I have to make a last-minute shopping run? How professional did I have to look? I was pretty sure that Rachel had some really cute little black dresses I could snag out of her closet. Maybe I could promise to do her dishes for her, even though it was totally her turn and she'd been shirking it for weeks, in exchange for getting to raid her closet.

  Keith was still talking. I managed to focus in on what he was saying once again, with great difficulty. "I'm going to forward on all of the details to you," he was telling me. "Remember, don't do anything memorable! You're just there to show up, show that someone from Marketing was present, and then leave before you screw it all up."

  "I won't screw anything up!" I reassured the man. "Listen, Keith, you really sound like you should rest up. Just leave it all to me. I can totally handle this."

  The man was still trying to get something out, but his coughing had returned, and I couldn't understand a word. He really needed to rest. I decided that the kindest thing to do would be to just hang up. Better not to stress him any more, right?

  I scooped all of my folders and my purse up off of the counter and grinned happily at the front desk receptionist. I knew that she had been surreptitiously listening in, trying to figure out wh
at sort of important conversation I had been having. "I'm off!" I told her grandly, as if she was my personal assistant. "I have a party with the CEO to go prepare for!"

  The entire ride home, I was picturing all the amazing things that could happen at this party. I didn't know many of the Panther Worldwide employees outside of the marketing department, but this would be my chance to meet their bosses! Maybe one of them would recognize some amazing talent in me and would give me a huge promotion right there on the spot. "We can't live without you," he'd say ponderously, reaching out to take my hand. "We need for you to transfer over to our department. Name your price."

  Or maybe I'd even get to see the CEO himself! I knew Roman Wayland's name, of course, but I had no idea what the man actually looked like. He was young, I remembered, not much older than me, and i always read about how he had a "commanding and powerful presence that dominated a room." But most of the business magazines I had leafed through were frustratingly short on details like eye color and height and whether he was fit or totally overweight.

  In any case, I knew that this was going to be my big break. Despite whatever Keith thought, I totally wasn't going to screw it up. I would handle it in a super professional manner and come out deserving nothing but praise.

  Things were definitely looking up! This was going to be the start of a whole new leaf for me. It was going to be absolutely great.

  ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

  "Oh, this is terrible," I wailed, flopped down on my bed at home. "It's all going wrong! This is going to be absolutely horrible!"

  Standing beside my bed, my roommate Rachel pulled her head out of my closet. "Oh, calm down," she insisted, her voice sounding far too reasonable for the amount of panic I was experiencing. "I'm sure that you have something in here for you to wear."

  As Rachel resumed rummaging in my closet, I collapsed back down. When I had gotten home an hour earlier, I had felt filled with motivation, determined to make the best of this new opportunity. But as I rummaged through my closet, discarding outfit after outfit, my hope began to fade. This was going to be a very fancy event! I couldn't possibly hope to show up in a dress that I bought off the rack at the thrift shop for 70% off!

  Just lying there, I could see all of my wild dreams slipping away. I wasn't going to go strutting in wearing a four-figure dress, showing off my sexy side to all of the executives there, and then wowing them with all my professional business knowledge as soon as I opened my mouth. (I didn't know exactly what professional business knowledge I would share, but something was certain to spring to mind when I really needed it.) I wasn't going to be promoted up out of my current job into something that paid twice as much. I wasn't going to become the newest, hottest rising star of Panther Worldwide. I wasn't going to have Roman Wayland personally thanking me in a speech for all of the "invaluable contributions to helping our brand become such a global powerhouse."

  There was a rustling sound, and I lifted up my head. Rachel had managed to find something in the back of my closet, and was currently engaged in a tug-of-war with a bundle of jumbled hangers to try and get it out. She reached out and gave a yank-

  -and came tumbling back, accompanied by the terrible sound of tearing fabric.

  Rachel clambered back up to her feet a second later. She looked down at the scrap of now-ragged fabric in her hand. "Well, I guess that dress isn't an option," she joked with a little giggle.

  I rolled back, putting both hands over my eyes. "Ruined! I'm ruined!" I wailed piteously up at the ceiling.

  I felt the bed shift a little as Rachel sat down beside me. "Oh, Melinda, stop being such a drama queen," she chided me. "Look, if it really comes to it, I'm sure that I've got something that you could fit into and wear tonight."

  Don't judge me, but I might have been hoping for her to say something like that. Okay, I was waiting for her to say something exactly like that. I bounced back up to a sitting position so fast that I saw my roommate lean back a little. "Ooh, really?" I exclaimed, clapping my hands together. "In fact, I'm pretty sure I remember you having this lovely little black dress from a few months ago that I'm sure you wouldn't miss for tonight..."

  I probably could have been a bit smoother with that, but Rachel just rolled her eyes at me and grinned. She probably knew that I was after her closet from the beginning. But I couldn't help myself! She just always seemed to have the perfect clothing, able to totally flatter her body. Whenever we went out together for drinks after work, I felt like a frumpy middle-aged matron standing next to her.

  Rachel stood up from the bed, stretching her arms up towards the ceiling. "Fine," she grunted as she stretched. "Come on. Let's go take a look at my closet."

  Next to my little, schlubby room, Rachel's room looked like something out of one of those style magazines that I always saw next to the check-out counter at the supermarket. She had the easy, breezy, effortless style that usually took four feverish magazine editors to attain. Her room didn't look lived-in as much as it looked like the site of a cover photo shoot.

  I stood off to one side and tried not to touch anything as Rachel opened up her closet. The folding doors slid back to reveal a dizzying array of clothing, all of it amazing. She had multiple racks of shoes! She had the perfect elegant getup for any occasion! And there wasn't a single thing crumpled up in a ball on the ground!

  With my closet, my issue had been finding anything that would look halfway decent at a dinner party. With Rachel's closet, the new issue became narrowing down my choices.

  Forty minutes later, however, I had finally settled on the absolute cutest little black number, with a low-cut back and the absolute sexiest little slit going up one side. At first, I was worried about showing off my thigh like that at a fancy gathering, but Rachel convinced me that it would be perfect.

  "Look, even in the business world, it's like a sea of sharks," she told me as I turned around in front of her three-part vanity mirror. "Men have the advantage of being men, so women have to use sexuality. It's really the only way to get ahead."

  I didn't even know how to turn my sexuality on, but I did have to admit that I looked absolutely amazing in the dress. Sure, it took a fair amount of tugging to get the zipper up, even after I had exhaled to the point of nearly passing out, but I managed to get it all zipped. Add on a gorgeous little clutch that Rachel produced from an entire pile of purses and bags, and I looked as if I belonged in that same fashion magazine as her bedroom! I would probably be holding a super fancy cocktail at a summer garden party, my head tilted back in laughter to show off my white teeth. "Steal the spotlight at your next wedding," the article's title would probably read.

  I may have found my outfit for the evening, but I barely had time to get my makeup and hair fixed in the bathroom before I had to leave! I quickly stuffed anything I could think that I might need into my clutch. It might have been cute, but this little bag was definitely not big enough to hold everything that a woman might require.

  #

  Keith had emailed me the address of Roman Wayland's house(!), and twenty minutes later, I was making my way there in my trusty little Camry. I was grateful that the sun had started to set. Hopefully it would be totally dark by the time I pulled up.

  It wasn't that I was embarrassed of my car! My little Toyota had been with me for years, ever since my great-aunt Edna (or was it Ethel?) had passed away and it had been donated to me. I had been a college student at that point, and having a car of my own was a major mark of status. Ever since then, the car had performed with wonderful determination, never flagging or failing. Sure, it took a while to warm up in the winter, and the air conditioning only worked on one side of the vents, and there was definitely some rust on the outside, but it drove, didn't it? And that was all I really needed.

  But somehow I couldn't see my little car quite fitting in with the cars driven by all the other fancy-pants executives. I was kind of hoping that I could park it towards the back of the lot, where they might think that it belonged to one of the caterers or
waiters, and could then just walk up to the party.

  I was currently on the road that was listed on the address, but it seemed to stretch on forever. Had I managed to get myself lost? I really hoped not - this was absolutely the worst time to be lost. Not only would Keith yell at me, but I did not want to have to hobble the two miles back to the last house that I had seen on this road. Had I taken the wrong turn and ended up in the middle of the country somehow?

  Finally, up ahead, I saw a bunch of spotlights shining up into the sky. That had to be Roman's house! I patted my Camry on the steering wheel and leaned a little harder on the gas pedal, urging it on. Nearly there!

  My hopes to park in the back of the lot were quickly dashed as I pulled closer. This drive led directly up to a large circular traffic turnaround area. There were men in black trousers and bright red coats everywhere, and one of them came trotting up to me as I headed into the drop-off circle. He reached out and politely rapped on my driver's side window with a white-gloved hand, and I reached down to haul on the crank.

  "Welcome, miss!" he greeted me politely, although he had to raise his voice to be heard over the patter and occasional bang of the engine. "If you'd care to just come to a stop, I can park your car for you!"

  I nodded, not wanting to shout back to him, and brought the little car to a stop. The man had kept up with it, and he now reached out and opened my door for me. I climbed out, making sure my clutch was under one arm, but wasn't quite sure what to do next. Was I supposed to tip the fellow? I hadn't come with a bunch of cash; I wasn't prepared for this at all. I definitely had some learning to do about how to act around the upper crust.

  The man hopped into my car as soon as I was out of the seat, and it went puttering away a minute later. I looked after it for a second, wondering whether he had been supposed to give me some sort of receipt or ticket. How would I get my car back? What if, even at this very moment, my poor little Camry was headed off to some nasty chop shop where it would be disassembled, shipped overseas, welded back together, and sold to foreigners as "quality secondhand, only one previous owner"?