Lost and Found (Growing Pains #1)(30)

“What’d you do?” John sat down again, his grin back. The guy couldn’t sit still.

Sean shrugged. “There’s a list, actually. All in the best interest of the presentation, but I doubt she’ll see it that way. Anyway, because I know she cares about her work, and her job, and how she is received, I bet you she’ll be in here Monday to bitch me out.”

“The way I hear it, when she gets in a foul mood she bitches everyone out.”

Sean laughed. It was true. He’d witnessed it a couple times when she’d had a bad date, or James Montgomery was being particularly stodgy. In the early morning she let her bad moods get away from her. Sean loved watching the fireworks. She could make the old ladies scurry out with a look.

“True, but she does it in the break room. I bet she’ll seek me out to yell at me.”

“What if she catches you in the break room?”

“She’ll probably try, so I’ll come straight here.”

John looked at Sean for a while, weighing. Unlike Sean, John lived to gamble. He was in high-roller status in three different casinos in Las Vegas. You had to know your mark.

Finally John jumped up with a nod. “Fine. But she has to come down, to this office, in person, before 12 o’clock. She does that, to bitch you out, mind, not to flirt, and you can have her. But…” John raised his finger in warning, “If she does a shitty job, for any reason, she’s out. She’s off the team and I’ll find someone else to take her place.”

Sean stood and shook John’s hand. “Deal. I’ll enjoy proving you wrong.”

“Yeah, right,” John said, leaving the office.

Sean hoped he knew Krista as well as he thought he did. He didn’t want to hire in, and he sure didn’t want to use someone else from Research.

~*~*~*~

The high-pitched wail of her alarm clock seeped through the fog of her dreams. She came slowly awake, her head feeling thick and sluggish. She opened her eyes miserably, hating that morning had come so early. Also hating what the day would bring. She knew she’d have to confront Sean in a few hours. She’d known it all weekend. She had an ulcer from worrying about it. She’d also had too much wine last night, fretting about it.

As if the day wasn’t going to be hard enough, now she would have to face it hung over. She was an idiot.

She closed her eyes again, desperately wishing away the headache that was pounding on the inside of her too-tight skull. She needed Tylenol. And water. And to call in sick.

Sighing loudly, she lugged herself up. It was going to be a long, long day.

Unless she got fired. Then it would be a long, long week.

She had a slow morning of misery getting ready. She didn’t put much flair into her appearance even though she probably should have. She just couldn’t care that much—she hurt too badly. The wine residue was holding her prisoner.

On the large, old, shabby train headed to work, the announcer informed everyone that the doors were on the fritz. The Muni was at a full stop, on the tracks, and they were advised that they could either wait for a Muni crew to fix it, or disembark and catch another train. The crew in this establishment was neither fast nor competent, so like most of the other disgruntled morning commuters, Krista lumbered off, half thinking she might throw up, and sought out another ride to work.

The day was sublime with soft sunshine, a cool ocean breeze that tickled her face, and a lovely hint of spring. It was too bad the sunshine made her head pound, because she would’ve really liked to enjoy the brisk morning.

The pack of commuters trudged into the West Portal station where they would wait in a tightly packed horde for another train to come. They stood in a big glob, occasionally being jostled as people vied for better positioning. As the next train pulled up, people started to crowd in. That was when the foul play started.

As Krista stood, feeling miserable, waiting patiently for the hopefully working doors to open, some old Asian man, probably half her height, came barreling through, pushing her to the side and throwing her an elbow to keep her there. Once he had the advantage, he stepped in front of her. She didn’t have time to be indignant. He saw another opening and pounced, knocking a man as he’d done Krista. The man didn’t move nearly as far, but the old dude didn’t need a big opening. He stepped in front of yet another waiting patron, working his way to the very front.

Krista didn’t have the energy to be put out about it.

Then the doors opened. She’d thought waiting in a tightly packed group of people, with all the different scents and odors, was bad. As it turned out, it was heaven compared to the press she went into as everyone waiting started to squeeze through the door. Arms, elbows, briefcases and bags surged through the narrow passageway into any opening a body could fit. Krista felt like she was a napkin in a washing machine.

What was worse than a hangover? A hangover in a stuffy, enclosed space with a crowd of people. Krista spent the entire ride doing her best not to throw up on the business man she was facing. He was taller, so at least she would have gotten his chest instead of his face, but it definitely would have ruined his day, not to mention his expensive-looking suit.

She hoped he couldn’t smell the wine from the night before.

Miraculously, she walked into work on time. It was a good thing, because there was no way she was hurrying today. No running. She wouldn’t even bother with a brisk walk. Basically, a zombie-lurch was as much as she could do without kneeling over and giving up on life in the middle of the sidewalk.