NINE
Corinne
When you reach the point in your life where living on the edge is defined by whether you can manage to sneak a bottle of disinfectant into the breakroom unnoticed or not, you know you’re in trouble.
This is the most daring thing I’ve done in years … well, beside the whole reason for the pine fresh cleaner.
How far we fall.
I drag out my cup of coffee, sipping until it goes cold while I wait on Suzy in HR to leave the room. Satisfied I have a few precious minutes to myself, I dash across and rip the cloth from under the sink, gathering the bottle of disinfectant from my purse.
I cleaned thoroughly after Jordan left last night. Yet the thought that even a speck of my misdemeanor could find it’s way unknowingly into a bought lunch left me awake half the night.
I scrub the chemical into the table top with raw determination, pausing every so often to check I’m still in the clear. Safe for now. My hand stinks of pine needles by the time I’m done, yet I’m somewhat slightly more at ease with the idea of a colleague eating at the head of the table.
God help me if anyone brought a blue light in here.
I shouldn’t have bated Jordan. Shouldn’t have let him manhandle me into what we did.
Yet, I don’t regret a hot minute of it. Sheesh. I’d be crazy to wish for a life where I didn’t know the skill of his tongue, the feel of his fingers.
With the bottle of cleaner safely stored in my purse once more, I rinse the cloth out and hang it over the tap to dry. Relief washes over me, a weight lifted now that I’ve removed any guilt from my subconscious.
The feeling of lightness is short-lived however, tension twisting deep in my chest when Ted walks in.
“Suzy said she’d seen you in here.”
“Looking for me?” I collect my purse, indicating I’m on my way back to my desk.
He twists his wedding band, blocking my exit. Damn.
“Got a minute?”
“Sure.” My heart thunders in my chest as I follow Ted on the walk of shame through the cubicles to his office.
It’s akin to following the principal to the admin office in school. Curious eyes steal a look my way as we pass, no doubt reading me for any clues on why I would be trailing Ted with my purse in hand.
“Have a seat.” He gestures to the retro orange chair before his desk.
I shut the door behind us, eager to place a physical barrier between the speculation of my colleagues and myself.
“How have you been, Corinne?” Ted fusses with a stack of files on the side of his desk.
“Since I left last night?” I give him a wary smile. “Fine, thank you. Why?”
He clears his throat. Pushes a file to the left. Up an inch. And then back to where it started. “So, you’ll understand that after what happened over the weekend we’ve had to be thorough. We were required to review everything that transpired in the office immediately before, and immediately after the breach occurred.”
“Of course.” They’ll need to rule out any inside involvement.
“Reviewing staff movements in the office is part of that. Security card usage, where people have been, and if it relates to their department … all of that.”
I duck my head in an attempt to meet his eye. “What does this have to do with me?”
I haven’t snooped around the other departments, nor tried to use my card to gain access to any offices that are out of bounds—not that there are many places locked down on our floor.
Mostly just the server room.
“Something came up when we reviewed the, ah …” He clears his throat, shifting his weight between his feet.
The fact he hasn’t felt comfortable enough to sit yet, disturbs me.
“Reviewed the what?”
“Files.”
“Customer files?” Does he think I was involved?
“No.” His hand finds the back of his neck, the stress of this on him obvious in the way he constantly clears his throat between sentences. “Security files. The tapes, if you like.”
No. This is a mere coincidence that he brings this up today. Total fluke. Absolutely nothing to do with the pine cleaner I subtly push further from view.
“And?” I clasp my hands together, the strap of my purse in a death grip between them. “Cut to the chase, Ted.”
“The break room.” He turns side on to me, hand rested on the files again as his thumb fidgets with the edge of one. “I would have been satisfied with a warning, happy to give you a bit of an olive branch, Corinne, but I wasn’t the one who was alerted first.”
Oh, God. Kill me now. “Alerted?” Upper management saw?
I need to be sick.
“Between staff, it would have been possibly some unpaid leave, or a shift of job roles to keep a professional distance.” He lifts his gaze, finally. “But it was a consultant, Corinne.” I wish he hadn’t.
The level of my epic fuck up is outlined in the way he can’t decide between disgust and pity when he looks at me.
“What’s the damage, then?” A compulsory course. A written warning? No. He said it was worse than that.
“Termination.” He sighs. “I’m sorry, Corinne, but you really dug this hole yourself.” He drags a hand over his face before asking. “Why?”
“I … I don’t know.” My chin hits my chest, my shame clear in the blush of my skin.
“Do you know Jordan?”
“In a manner of speaking.” My palms sweat.
“He never mentioned he knew you.”
“He’s not the kind of man who would, is he?”
Ted takes a deep breath, finger tapping the desk before him.
I’ve lost my goddamn job over a fleeting moment of madness. Was the fantasy worth it? Was Jordan worth my career? It’s hard to find a reason to say yes.
A lifetime of wondering ‘what if’ would have been better than this high-level panic, that’s for sure. How will I meet my rent? My credit card? Let alone feed myself.
My job, as commonplace as it is in this day and age, isn’t exactly sought after. It could take months to find a new position. Especially without references. I’m hardly about to list Ted as a phone referee, am I?
Guess there’s always life as a personal trainer again. Some income is better than none, right?
“I really don’t know what else to say,” Ted offers. “You’re a smart woman; you knew the implications of this. Which is why I keep coming back to why?”
I rise from the seat, purse clutched before me. “When I figure it out for myself, I’ll let you know.” I swallow back the lump in my throat, unable to look Ted in the eye. “May I have the rest of the day off?”
“You can either clear your things today, or come in and do it tomorrow. I’ll give you that. But you’ll be paid to the end of the week with no expectation that you’ll be here in between.”
A gentle way of saying fuck off and don’t come back. Nice.
“I’m sorry, Ted.”
“As am I, Corinne.”
He doesn’t move while I leave his office. Whether because he’s said all he feels he needs to, or because, like me, he needs a moment to comprehend what the fuck just happened.
I lost my job for fucking a consultant to our company in the break room. Class act, that I am. There were cameras. The urge strikes to head back in there and try and find the damn things, yet what good would that bring?
Nope. I know without a shadow of a doubt what I’m going to do next.
Head down, mind on task, I walk the gauntlet back to my desk and pick up the receiver on my phone.
“Hey, sis.” Chase sounds as surprised to get a call from me as I am to be making it. “Everything all right?”
“I need to ask you a question, and I need to you hold yours until later today when I’ve dealt with this. Okay?”
“Sure,” he says skeptically. “What do you need to ask?”
“Where does Jordan work? Where can I find him?”
“Why?”
God sakes. Don’t make me ask Ted. “I said to hold questions until later.”
“Fine. He works from home.” A loaded pause precedes his next question. “Has this got anything to do with Sarah’s message?”
“Maybe. Thanks, Chase.”
I cut him off mid sentence as he urges me to call him later.
Home. I can do that. It can’t be too hard to remember the way after only being there once.
My gut swirls with nerves as I set my email to redirect to Ted, and then pack up the few personal belongings at my desk. I make my way past reception with my head held high, determined not to let these gossiping assholes behind me feel vindicated with my apparent shame.
Yeah. I screwed a guy in the office, and I don’t regret it one little bit.
I only regret getting caught.