Nothing momentous was going on in the office. Every consultant was trying to be at the clients' premises at least fifty percent of the time to earn billable hours. Those who stayed in the office did so quietly and were in shame. They felt useless and were afraid that the company would see them as a cost burden. Except for Dungi.
As Gina entered Abalido & Quinaeros' headquarters and walked toward her glass-walled office, she saw Dungi on the phone, like he always was, loitering in the halls, king of the almost-empty workplace. Gina was never sure what his contribution was as a Program Manager, other than offloading the administrative workloads of the swamped project managers and consultants—which he hadn’t been doing. His function was to collate progress reports and integrate them into a single vi
Rhonda drove her convertible along the I-5 highway, slightly above the speed limit. As she drove past other cars without having to accelerate, wind in her hair, she felt the joy of cruising and mused about her father, the person responsible for this delight. Really, all she did was get her first job, a secretarial role that promised no career path nor did it pay well, and that was all it took to make the old man ecstatic. At first she didn't understand what the big deal was until her mother told her it was all about earning her own living. In retrospect, she now understood how hard it must've been for her father to refrain from pampering her, from distracting her from what mattered in adulthood: work and getting paid. A car! He couldn't
The café played a jazz rendition of Lennon's Imagine. The topic on Feynman and all others that it brought about had ended. Noon, still one hour to go. They both looked through the window at the colorful street; the foliage of green, yellow, red and all colors in between threw shades on the passers-by, parked cars, and a blue USPS box across the street. Who still sends actual mail these days? she thought. He observed her while she was busy with her inner thoughts, and looking over the window. Beautiful, he thought. Sexy. He liked her short brunette hair, and the way her lips parted when she smiled. He had watched her as she was walking toward the café that morning. She was dressed in a business outfit, ankle-length business pants, a navy blue blazer, and a white blouse. As she was seated, h
At half-past-twelve, they went out of the bookstore/coffee shop and walked across the street to the bistro where they were supposed to have the meeting. He wanted to drink a glass or two of Portland's finest brews before meeting Tom—their managing consultant in Portland—and his clients. "I was supposed to meet with just Tom last night then head back to Seattle this morning, but then yesterday he strongly suggested I also meet with his clients. That's why I need you." "For what, exactly?" Rhonda was still in a flirtatious mood. She couldn't turn it off just like that, especially after she knew she had an incriminating effect on him. He didn't let himself be baited; he offered a smile. He had handled things like this in the pa
"No, I'm not jealous. Not at all. But I do think it's sluttish what you did," Gina said, slightly upset and simultaneously amused upon hearing what Rhonda tried to pull with the Boss. She scoffed, then went back to looking at the menu, trying to deal with the mixed feelings she had. The feelings that sat between curiosity and fear of not liking what Rhonda might say next. But Rhonda knew when to stop, and how much was to be divulged. "I don't know what got into me, but he felt like a challenge and I kept on losing—I threw in all I got. Nothing that should've happened, did. But Gina, like I said, he reacted to it—excellent control but a man nevertheless," Rhonda summed up her experience with the Boss the day before.
"Gina, I am yours. Kronos is as good as you in analysis and planning. Yes, they have the bigger name and world presence. But your team has the practical experience, they've been exposed to the fields, and where the rubber meets the road, and that qualification is invaluable. Moreover, my team is already joined at the hip with yours—it yields synergy," John said. Synergy—Rhonda recalled what Pete had said about that word: Aerlman's pet word. It makes sense, Rhonda thought. "And I think, although he doesn't say it, Abram is also inclined toward your company, and so is Pete. Adrian wants visibility, so he can have an easier life—but he doesn't think much about the amount of groundwork involved. Kronos is not as e
Raymond was the managing partner, one of the three gods owned by The Boss. Of those three, Raymond was the most powerful and feared. He was a big, cigar-chomping man. He was loud and daunting. Yes, he was extremely sharp and knowledgeable, but those qualities only bolstered his unpleasant and mean-spirited demeanor. Raymond was not one to beat around the bush. It was not a good surprise when Layla told Gina that Raymond was looking for her, as she was about to sit in her office. What for, Gina inquired. "I have no clue, Gina, and dared not ask," Layla said, and she didn't even talk to the man directly. She talked with his secretary. "He wants you to see him as soon as you’re back."
She was lying naked on her bed, all fresh and smelling like flowers after a long, hot shower. Nobody was there to smell her though, not for another hour and a half. In ninety minutes, she was to meet Roy for dinner. Now, she just wanted to relax, and probably touch herself a little here and there, as she had always done whenever she felt wanted—and that was often. Roy had hinted at a new business, and suggested dinner to talk about it. She smiled. What an old trick, she thought, it was cute, and she played along. She would bring the Boss, she said—although she wouldn't; the Boss did not attend dinners unless it was necessary, or he was the one who initiated them. "No, do not embarrass me. The business is not substantial enou
Whenever he was meeting Gina he made sure he arrived first. He loved to witness how she made her entrance, how she turned heads as she walked toward his table. He stood up to greet her. He planted a kiss on her cheek, surprising her. Surprising himself; not a known habit. She was dressed for impact; the dress she had changed into when her dinner plans had been altered, was designed to lure. Shimmery gold in color, it had a low décolletage covering just enough to leave to the imagination, their roundness tastefully outlined. The material discreetly recorded every move her body made. She was in for a kill, for more than just making an impression. As he helped her into her seat, he was treated to glimpses of her thighs. The skin smo