Of course. Dar glanced at the folder containing the Associated files. It would be easier just to claim the entire account as new business in the applicable areas, and de-structure the cost side by disbanding the company.
Easier, and it would make the numbers work on top of it, allowing her to go home after almost thirty-six straight hours of working on the project.
She wouldn’t need to hide anything else, and T and T’s numbers wouldn’t matter.
In fact, twice she’d done just that, her fingers hovering over the Submit keys, and then she’d backed off, for reasons she really didn’t quite have a handle on. Maybe it was the persistent optimism of Kerry’s notes, as the young manager worked and reworked her numbers, getting closer and closer to the goal Dar had set. A goal which was probably irrelevant by now, unless a miracle happened.
She knew she should just call the damn woman, and tell her to give it up…go home, and just reconcile herself to the unpleasant reality of the situation, but every time she punched the Dial button, her eyes fell on the latest of Kerry’s plans, and she stopped, and went back to searching her spreadsheets yet again.
The phone buzzed, and she slapped it. “Yeah?”
Duks voice came through the line. “T and T’s numbers just processed.”
Tropical Storm 47
He shuffled some papers. “They suck.”
Dar closed her eyes as she hit the Refresh on her page, and did not open them until she heard her hard drive stop churning. The bottom line blinked at her, and she felt an overwhelming weariness settle on her shoulders. “We need to fire someone over there,” she commented tiredly.
“Mmm,” Duks agreed, his voice sounding equally tired. “Too late for this quarter, though. I’ll make you a list of my favorite candidates for the Burger King line.” The VP Finance, one of Dar’s closest allies, was a pragmatist if anyone was.
“Thanks, Dukky,” the tall woman replied. “All right. Is Mariana still there?” Mariana Sartis was the VP Personnel, who worked hand in fist with Dukky, and, some said, was sleeping with him. Dar didn’t care and thought they made a cute couple, but company rules were company rules.
“She’s right here.”
“I’m going to have to cut all of Associated loose, Mari,” Dar said quietly.
“You might as well start setting up the packets. Queue the work lists to me.”
“All right, Dar,” the lightly accented voice answered. “They never really transitioned, so it’s just a matter of W4 notification.”
“I know, bastards won’t even get two weeks.” Dar exhaled. “Let me go finalize this. You’ll get an update in a little while.”
She hung up the phone and stared at the screen, pulling her alternate plan to the foreground and processing it. The bottom line flickered, then resolved, and she gave it a little nod. “Sorry, kid.” She took a deep breath, and picked up the phone, dialing a number and waiting. Anyone who thinks it’s all glamour never had to do this, she mused, then straightened as the phone was answered, and she heard Kerry’s soft voice.
“Associated Synergenics, Kerry Stuart.”
“Ms. Stuart.” Dar paused to gathered her thoughts.
“Oh, hello.” Kerry cleared her throat. “Listen, I know you’re getting close to your deadline, but I think I’ve got it. It took forever but I finally found some slack in the facilities budget.”
“I’m sorry, Ms. Stuart. It’s just not going to fit in with our plans,” Dar said quietly. “It was a good try, and you were on the right track, but it’s not going to be possible.”
Dead silence stretched out for a moment. “You son of a bitch.” Kerry’s voice was strangled, with either rage or tears, Dar couldn’t tell. “I hope you go straight to hell, because that’s exactly where you belong.” The phone slammed down, and the line went dead.
Dar quietly replaced her receiver and let her hands fall to her thighs. It certainly wasn’t the first time she’d been told that, and probably wouldn’t be the last, but after thirty-six hours with no sleep, her emotional defenses were in tatters, and it hurt. It got past her carefully cultivated and hardened attitude, and she let her head rest against the high-backed chair with her eyes closed tight as the silence of the mostly empty building settled over her.
Finally, she got up and opened her top drawer, taking her keys out and throwing her jacket over her shoulders. She had till midnight to close the books. Right now, all she wanted to do was find some empty space, and salt air.
48 Melissa Good KERRY SLAMMED HER chair back and stood, pacing over to the wall and staring at it. She let her anger build until it was at the breaking point, then she let it loose, slamming her fist against the drywall surface with a crunch.
The painful shock raced up her arm, and she pulled her hand back to see a baseball-sized dent in the wall that did little to release her fury.
“Lowdown piece of godforsaken—I can’t believe she did that,” she fumed, letting her head come to rest against the abused wall. “A whole week of killing myself, for nothing. For nothing!” She knew she didn’t have to worry about anyone hearing her, as she was alone in the building. She’d sent the rest of the staff home early, hinting that she might have good news for them on Monday.
It had been going so well. Her last two drafts had gotten cautious praise from Dar, and she’d allowed herself to hope that she’d actually be able to pull this off. Everyone had left in a good mood, and she’d heard several groups planning get-togethers out in the Grove or at Bayside, which was one of her own favorite spots.
She sat down on the edge of her desk and felt like crying. Then she decided she was just too tired and too mad to do even that. “Might as well get out of here.” She picked up her things and left her desk the way it was, covered with draft proposals and stacks of reports, not even looking back as she shut the door.
For a while, she just drove around aimlessly, taking I 95 down past the city center to see the lights come on as dusk dropped over the city. The sun setting in the west sent a wash of tropical orange light across the tall buildings, reflecting off the glass-mirrored surface. The sky was layered with clouds, and each layer took on a different pastel shade—from burnished orange, to pink, to lavender—as they spread across the horizon.
Kerry pulled off to the side near the interchange ramp, ignoring the bustling traffic and opening the top of her Mustang convertible as the warm, damp breeze blew in. The sunset painted its hues as she watched, the dusk in the east causing the lights to emerge while the last rays put stripes across the highway. It smelled like rain, and the breeze cooled, brushing humid tendrils across her arm where it rested on the windowsill. It was beautiful, and now the tears came, and she let them, rolling down her face as a snatch of music blew by, rich with a Caribbean beat.
She sat there until the sky darkened and the orange phosphor lights kicked on, bathing the highway in a surreal light and dimming the stars overhead. Then she reluctantly started her engine and pulled out into traffic, debating a moment, then choosing an exit a few minutes later and turning east.
The lights dimmed as she headed out over Rickenbacker Causeway, crossing Virginia Key and passing the old Dinner Key auditorium. She’d attended a dawn Easter mass here last year, and it held fond memories for her as the rising sun and the fresh spring air had brought new meaning to the holiday.
Kerry traveled across the second long bridge out to Key Biscayne, the first in the long chain of barrier islands which guarded the Florida coastline and extended down to the last one, Key West, which was the southernmost point Tropical Storm 49