Kill the Competition (24 page)

Belinda jerked around, sloshing Diet Coke, and almost fell into Wade Alexander, who leaned against the soda machine, arms crossed over his uniformed chest. "No. I..." She straightened. "Yes, if you must know, I'm hiding from my neighbor."

"Why?" He fought a smile, which made her feel ridiculous.

"Because... he's a kook." Unlike her, of course.

"Ah." He stepped out to look down the food court. "Which one is he?"

"Hard hat. Toolbox."

"Whistling at women?"

"That would be him."

"Want me to shoot him?"

She pushed her tongue into her cheek. "No, Lieutenant."

He scratched his temple. "I thought we'd graduated to first names."

Her neck itched, and Libby's comment about her getting splotchy around the man rang in her ears. "It's, um... the uniform," she said, indicating the snug-fitting, imposing attire that outlined his powerful physique to perfection. "It's hard for me to think of you as anything else when you're dressed." She coughed. "Like that."

"So if I wasn't dressed?" His smile widened. "Like this?"

She squinted. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for you, actually."

"What did I do this time?"

"Nothing, I hope. A buddy of mine heads up security in this building. He called me to report an incident at Archer—some guy forced his way into a woman's office?"

She nodded. "I was there."

"Why am I not surprised?"

She smirked. "I was meeting with my boss, and the man interrupted us."

"Was he armed?"

"I didn't see a weapon."

"Was anyone hurt?"

"No. I thought he might attack her, but then he sort of broke down."

One dark eyebrow arched. "Crying?"

"My boss has that effect on people."

"The report said the guy was a former employee."

She nodded. "But he was let go before I came here. My boss alluded to him being fired for a drug problem."

"Was he high when you saw him?"

"I couldn't tell, but he was disheveled. And on edge."

"So what happened to our agreement?"

"Agreement?"

"That you would call me if anything unusual happened."

"Oh. I guess I... forgot." She frowned, and gestured around the vending room. "So how did you find me here?"

"I'm trained to spot suspicious-looking people. When I saw a woman hiding behind vending machines, then playing peek-a-boo, I thought I should investigate." He lifted his gaze to her head. "Especially when I saw the red hair. By the way, what happened to the rest of it?"

She frowned. "I like my hair like this."

"Then so do I."

She nodded in a vague "away" direction. "I should be getting back to work."

"Me too. But you'll call me if anything else happens?"

Belinda angled her head. "Does your interest in Archer have anything to do with Jeanie Lawford's accident?"

He had a poker face. "An incident like that puts the company on the police radar."

"So you're just doing your job?"

"Yes, ma'am."

Belinda smiled. "Good-bye, Lieutenant." She turned to go.

"Hey."

She turned back.

"I see you're drinking the good stuff."

She glanced down at the Diet Coke can she held. A flush warmed her face. "The Pepsi machine wasn't working."

Next to him, a young man dropped coins into the Pepsi machine, pushed a button, and a can rolled out.

Wade looked back to her.

"Gotta go," she said and walked away as fast as she could. At the door to the stairwell, she looked back through the crowd and saw Lieutenant Good—er, Lieutenant Alexander still watching her. He was not smiling, and she was struck with the illogical desire to restore his cheerfulness. She lifted her can in a salute, then turned toward the stairs. The man was an enigma, and the last thing she needed in her life right now was more complications.

By the time she reached the eighth floor, she attributed her skittery mood to the events of the day, and her pounding pulse to the exertion. But the impromptu encounter with Wade Alexander had reminded her that she needed to call for the estimate on her car repairs. On the way back to her desk, she stopped by the ladies' room.

It was impossible for her to walk into the tiled room without remembering the episode between her and Margo only a week ago. It seemed as if much more time had passed, because so many things had happened in the space of seven days. She set her soda on the counter, then stopped at the sound of sniffling coming from the one closed stall door. She looked down and recognized Libby's red-and-black stiletto pumps.

Belinda shot a glance back to the entrance and considered giving the woman privacy. Chances were, whatever was wrong, she wouldn't be able to help anyway. But when another tearful snuffle sounded, her shoulders fell in defeat, and she walked over to the metal door. "Libby, it's Belinda. Are you okay?"

Libby emitted a tremulous exhale. "I decided to come in here, since my life is going down the crapper."

Biting back a smile, Belinda asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

The door opened. Libby stood there, wiping her red nose with a tissue. "Come on in."

Belinda balked. "Well, I—"

Libby clasped her arm, hauled her inside the stall, and closed the door. Belinda squirmed at the proximity. The stall was roomy as far as bathroom stalls were concerned, but still. Libby blew her nose into a wad of toilet tissue, then dropped it in the commode with what looked like enough paper to do some serious pipe damage.

"My life is a disaster," she said, her eyes overflowing anew. "I'm in debt over my head, my husband is furious with me, my kids are belligerent, and Margo just told me that my performance over the past year 'doesn't warrant a raise.'" She blew her nose again. "Oooh! That woman makes me so furious. She didn't give Carole a raise either, and Rosemary's in there now."

Uncertain what to do, Belinda reached out and patted Libby's arm awkwardly. "Everything will work out."

Libby shook her head. "You know my friend in HR?"

"I remember you mentioning her."

"Well, she can't reveal any specifics, but she hinted that our personnel numbers were going to be reduced."

"And you think Rosemary is going to lose her job?"

Libby nodded tearfully. "And here I am, feeling guilty because I'm glad it wasn't me."

Belinda patted her again. "You shouldn't feel guilty for wanting to keep your job. And even if Rosemary is let go, she'll land on her feet."

Libby took a deep breath and nodded. "I just hate to think that she'd have to deal with unemployment if she's sick, too."

"You don't know that."

"I guess we'll find out this evening."

Belinda tried to smile. "Maybe Rosemary's seeing some dashing gentleman that she doesn't want anyone to know about."

Libby smiled. "Could be. I guess I'm not helping anything by standing in the john blubbering."

The door to the ladies' room opened and someone walked in. Belinda cringed, hoping the person wouldn't notice two sets of legs in the stall. Silence abounded. And either the person didn't notice and changed their mind about whatever they'd come in for, or they did notice and decided they didn't want to stick around. Quick footsteps sounded on the tile floor, then the door opened and closed.

Belinda and Libby looked at each other and started laughing. An alien sense of camaraderie flooded Belinda. She couldn't do anything to help Libby's situation except offer a sympathetic ear, but apparently, sometimes a sympathetic ear was enough. Funny, but she had always subscribed to the theory of not sharing her feelings with people unless they were part of a concrete solution. Now she wondered how many things she'd internalized over the years, when the simple act of unburdening herself might have been beneficial.

"At least
your
evaluation went well," Libby said, wiping her eyes. "And I suppose that Margo can't fire all of us. Oh—you have to tell me all about Jim Newberry!"

"Later, when we're playing private eye. Right now I need to get back to my desk."

"Me too." Libby reached forward and squeezed Belinda's hand. "Thanks, Belinda."

Startled, Belinda squeezed back after a half beat. "You're welcome. Now get out of here so I can relieve myself."

Libby laughed. "See you later."

Guilt plagued Belinda all the way back to her cubicle. While Libby and Carole had been denied even cost-of-living raises and Rosemary's job appeared to be in true jeopardy, she'd just been awarded the position and the salary of her dreams. Would the girls resent her when they found out?

The thought jarred her because it made her realize that she did care what the women thought of her, that she wanted to forge a real friendship with the motley crew, despite their idiosyncrasies and their faults. And hers. Margo was simply going to have to live with it. Belinda smoothed a strand of hair behind her ear. That, and her trendy do.

When she arrived back at her cubicle, she called the auto repair shop. Carole's husband's cousin recited a number that left her a bit breathless, but he promised to work her in the next day if she could bring the Honda in before lunch. She said she would, jotted a note to herself to ask Margo about taking the day off, and asked if he accepted credit cards.

She hung up, reminding herself that her raise would be forthcoming when Margo returned from Hawaii. The paperwork would probably take a couple of weeks, and then, heck, she might buy a
new
car.

But the idea didn't cheer her as much as it should have. In fact, the thought was a gut check because, she realized, lately all roads seemed to lead back to the deal she'd struck with Margo. She massaged her temples. And as much as she wanted to believe she could maintain her independence, and her friends, hadn't she simply given Margo more leverage to manipulate her?

What would the woman ask her to do next? Look the other way here, fudge a little there. Stretch, exaggerate, embellish. And to what end—personal wealth at the expense of personal worth?

She sat and mulled the big fat mess she'd gotten herself into. As the last hour of the workday clicked away on her digital clock, she felt as if the time was expiring on her integrity. Meanwhile, her blood pressure climbed higher and higher as the potential fallout of a bad deal unfolded in her mind. People's jobs were at stake, people who had more time and energy invested in the two companies than she. Her mind raced for a way out that would preserve the momentum of the deal. Margo had said the Payton contracts had been signed but not yet mailed. Belinda still had time to stop the process until everything could be analyzed more in-depth. She could offer to do the research while Margo was on vacation. The deal didn't have to be terminated, just postponed. And no one even had to know—the delay could simply be attributed to Margo's vacation.

She inhaled deeply, then puffed out her cheeks. Lesson learned—she was going to have to ease into this taking chances thing. Meanwhile, she would count herself lucky that she wasn't too late to make things right. She picked up the phone and dialed Margo's office. Brita answered.

"Is Margo available?" Belinda asked.

"Ms. Campbell is still here, but she asked not to be disturbed."

"I'll come over and wait until she's finished," Belinda said.

"That might be a while," Brita chirped.

Belinda pursed her mouth. "Still." Then she frowned—was she parroting Wade Alexander?

"Suit yourself." Then the woman hung up.

Belinda checked her watch—5:20. Libby and Carole would be expecting her to join them soon. She'd simply send them on with her car and find another way home. No way was she leaving before she got things straightened out with Margo. She was determined to sleep tonight.

Libby was packing up her desk when Belinda rapped on the outside panel.

The woman looked up and smiled. "Are you ready? It's early, but we have time to get a lottery ticket before we
you know."

"Um, I've had a change of plans." She held up her keys and was mortified to see her hand shaking. "After the
you know
, would you mind driving Carole home and leaving my car at your place? I'll be over later to pick it up."

From the look on Libby's face, Belinda knew the woman thought she was pulling back, that she'd decided not to be involved in the messy details of friendship. "How will you get to my house?"

"I'll ride MARTA or grab a taxi. I'm sorry, Libby, to back out. Something important has come up."

"Okay," Libby said, still clearly confused. "I could stop back by and pick you up after the
you know."

"You don't even know where you're going. And I don't know how long I'll be."

"Good gravy, what's wrong? You look... splotchy. Did Officer Goodbody drop by?"

"No—yes." Belinda stopped and issued a calming breath. "Never mind him. I need to see Margo about a couple of things."