In the solitude of my office cubicle, I swished around on Google to find anything of value on Vandermeer. The article that talked about his early release was written in yesterday's local paper, the free one that had been jammed into the mail slot on the office door. I had no idea why my first instinct was to call Joshua, but just hearing his voice seemed to calm me down some. I knew that if I heard him call me by the nickname he had created just for me, it would bring me back to earth and help me avoid a total meltdown. And while the deep, soothing sound of Joshua's voice had been just the elixir I needed, I hadn't stopped thinking about him all morning. Not that I'd ever really stopped thinking about him. Joshua Hardy was entwined around every important moment in my life, both the good and the horribly, terribly bad.

I had plenty of work to do, and the boss was a Cruella Deville doppelganger without the cool two-toned hair. But I was determined to find something about Vandermeer that might come in handy. I didn't even know what handy meant in this situation, but I figured I'd know it when I saw it.

I clicked through several other articles about someone else with the same last name, only to find they were talking about Trent senior. There was a senior. That meant there were two Trent Vandermeers in the world. Apparently Dad Vandermeer was a big shot in life insurance policies. How appropriate.

A shadow dropped over my desk and keyboard. The strong scent of aftershave drifted over my monitor.

I didn't look up from my task. "Dustin, you know I hate it when you stare at me over the cubicle partition."

"All right, I won't stare long. I just thought maybe you'd want to go out and get a few drinks after work."

I leaned back on my chair and looked up at him. Dustin had that kind of baby face that some women found attractive. He was a nice enough guy but just a little too needy for my taste. "When have I ever said yes to that?"

"Never." He took off his glasses, something he usually did before he spoke to me. Although I found him much more attractive with them on. "But I think I deserve points for persistence."

"You do." I leaned forward and rested my hands in front of my keyboard. "Look, Dustin, you're a great guy, but I'm not interested in dating anyone right now. I just got out of a less than stellar relationship, and—"

The flimsy cubicle walls shook when Dustin lifted his hand above it to point at me. "Jack was wrong for you in every way. And if I ever get my hands on him, I will give it to him good."

I couldn't hold back a smile. Jack was a good five inches taller and twice the width of Dustin, but something told me he would make good on his word. "Thank you, Dustin. You're a good friend. But Jack won't be showing up any time soon. He moved to Michigan for a new job. Thank goodness." If there was one thing that was consistent in my otherwise helter-skelter life, it was my ability to pick the absolute worst men. And here I was again, warding off invitations from Dustin, a guy who would probably shower me with gifts, overwhelm me with flowers and always treat me like a princess. But in this case, I was absolutely wrong for him. He needed someone deserving of his faithful admiration and that sure as heck wasn't me.

"Uh oh, here comes the She-dragon." Dustin sat back down in his chair. Again, the wall shook and the postcard my dad sent from Venice escaped its pushpin and floated down to my desk.

I clicked out of the non-work related articles and clicked open the data files. Seconds later, the fire breather was standing over me, heating up the small space. "Rebecca, I need you to make some of those bar graphs and charts for this week's numbers." I turned and looked at the files clutched in her blood red fingernails. All she needed was the coat made out of Dalmatian fur. Dustin always warned me never to look Irene directly in the eye or risk death by turning to stone. His comment came back to me, and I bit my cheek to keep from laughing. She really was a horrid boss to work for, but the job kept me from living in a cardboard box on the street. Not that my apartment was much better than a refrigerator carton, but at least it had running water.

I took the files from her hand. "When do you need these by?"

Her laugh even made the plant on my desk shiver with revulsion. "The meeting is in one hour, and make them look pretty. Oh, and I'll need twenty copies, collated and placed in some of those plastic sleeves we have in the supply closet. Don't mess up. I want to impress the board members."

Her heels clacked over the tile. She glanced into Dustin's cubicle and then continued down the hallway to her office.

"So she'll go in there with my charts and pretend she made them. She is such a creep."

Dustin's chair squeaked as he rolled out of his cubicle and looked around the wall at me. "Did you avoid eye contact? Wait. I see you are not a pillar of stone, so you obeyed my warning."

The rattling but welcome wheels of the muffin cart sounded behind me. I leaned my head out to make sure Kate was coming up our aisle first. Otherwise the banana nut muffins would be gone. They were by far her best.

Kate's eyes shot toward us, or I should say shot toward Dustin. Kate had made no small attempt to let Dustin know she had a thing for him, but the poor guy was just completely clueless when it came to women. Kate had those kind of clear blue eyes that looked like the blue on a magnificent stained glass window. And they sparkled whenever she pushed her wobbly cart toward Dustin.

"Morning," she said with a special smile for Dustin. He was too absorbed in his muffin decision to notice.

I reached for a banana nut muffin and handed Kate my money.

"Hmm." Dustin tapped his chin. "I love the bran raisin but then I have problems all afternoon. If you get catch my drift."

Kate laughed politely. He didn't have to work too hard to get a positive reaction from her. I shook my head thinking the poor guy needed some kind of cool bro type mentor just to give him a little more edge in the world of flirtation.

Kate took longer than needed to count back his change. In the meantime, we were garnering some pretty nasty glares from the cubicles across the way.

Kate wrapped her hands around the cart handle. "Well, I guess I better head over to the other side before I start an office war."

Dustin didn't have the courtesy to return a laugh, even though her comment was far funnier. He really was a dolt.

Kate moved on with her baked goods. And just before Dustin slipped back into his cubicle, I landed a fist punch on his arm.

"Ouch. What the heck was that for? You got your damn banana nut muffin."

I used my feet to pull my chair closer to him. "Kate is crazy about you. Why don't you ask her out?"

"Kate?" His nose moved side to side, shifting his glasses with it as he glanced over at her. "Nah, she's not my type."

"You mean cute, productive, a good baker and charming? You're right. What was I thinking?"

I slid back into my office space.

Dustin hung his head around. "You really think she likes me?"

"As someone experienced at having a long, unrequited crush on someone, yes, I'd say absolutely yes."

I'd used the wrong analogy it seemed, and suddenly, his interest switched away from Kate and over to my crush. "You, Rebecca Novak had an unrequited crush on someone? Rebecca Novak, the woman who makes men from other offices run in their expensive loafers just to share an elevator ride. The woman who had to work in the cluttered copy room because the air conditioner service men couldn't concentrate on their job with her sitting at her desk. The woman who nearly caused a window washer to plunge to his death just by walking past the damn window."

I pointed at him. "Total exaggeration. That did not happen. He merely slipped, and it just happened to coincide with me walking to the office supply closet."

"Right. So spill. Who is it? Wait. Is it me?" He closed his eyes and lifted his face in a silent prayer.

"It's not you and it doesn't matter. I was just using it as a way to prove to you that Kate likes you. Now don't be an idiot, and ask her out." I rolled back to my desk and tucked my muffin aside for break. I stared down at the manila folder with Irene's angry looking handwriting scratched across a sticky note.

I pushed it aside and typed in a few more keywords with the name Trent Vandermeer. The top entry was about the opening of a new bar and grill. I clicked on it, and there staring back at me from a small, semi-blurry picture was the supreme asshole himself. He was smiling and pointing up to a sign above his head that read Vander's Place. Not only was he out of jail, he was having a good old successful time of it. There was nothing right about that. Nothing. I scrolled down farther. The grand opening was a week away, and they were still looking for servers. "Apply in person Tuesday and Thursday afternoon from three to six."

I grabbed my notepad and wrote down the address and information. I had some experience waiting tables in a sports bar.

Irene's nasal tone sounded down the hallway as she berated her assistant about some nonsense. I pulled the notepaper off and shoved it into my purse. Tomorrow was Thursday. I would go to the interview and try to get hired. I had no idea where I would go from there, but there was just no way a jerk like Trent Vandermeer got to trot around town looking happy and starting up damn businesses. First step was to land the job. The rest of the scheme to ruin the man would eventually fall into place . . . hopefully.