Big Pickle: A Secret Boss Romantic Comedy - JJ Knight Page 0,14

failing.

And Nova Strong just kicked me out of my own damn deli.

How the hell did I get here?

6

Nova

How the hell did Jason Packwood get here?

Who sent him?

Who is that man, really?

I stand at the glass door of the deli, making sure this Jason jerk-off walks away.

I did not sign up for this.

Not the manager position. Not even working full-time.

Certainly not having a corporate spy nosing around the manager’s office.

I have enough problems trying to keep this place going. The last thing I need is some snoopy stranger.

When Jason is safely down the block, I lock the front door and head to the kitchen. Arush and Elda have the sandwich line preparation well in hand. Eli will be here shortly, and I will put him on chopping.

I walk back into Susan’s office. I haven’t been here in a few weeks, not since I had to manually write that check. I was lucky to convince the cleaning staff to give me the extra key to this room. But, since I have it, they don’t come in here anymore. There’s a coat of dust on everything.

Because of this, I can tell everywhere Jason snooped. He covered the window, obviously wanting to hide what he was doing.

He took some binders down.

And powered up the computer.

But look at this.

He’s in.

I haven’t been able to log-on in six months. Susan doesn’t respond to emails or phone calls. I had no way of getting the password.

But this Jason guy was able to.

For a moment, my stomach quivers. Was I wrong? Rash?

It wouldn’t be the first time. I’m not exactly known for my calm, steady demeanor.

Still, this is an opportunity.

Before I was elevated to the position of acting manager, brought upon by no one else being willing to do the job, and our infuriating owner leaving us to our own devices, I had only glanced at the screen a time or two while Susan entered data.

But I have a degree in business—well, half of one anyway—and our classes reviewed the different types of software that’s out there.

I recognize this one. It’s nothing original or privately developed. I double-click on the accounting folder and find all the files and backups dating to when Susan left. Maybe now I can review all the vendors to see where things have changed and figure out why. All I have to do is make sure this machine doesn’t power down again and force a new login.

Or. Hmm.

What level of access does it have right now? I click through and realize, yes, this is administrative level. I quickly go and create a new user, title it Acting Manager, and give it a new login and password. This should bypass Susan.

I copy all the files into this profile for safekeeping and hide them in a folder titled Old Redundant Backups so no one will care about it.

I don’t have time to go through things right now. I’m less than an hour away from when we open.

But I’m in.

Before I go, I change the computer settings to never shut down. This will ensure it doesn’t restart with unexpected security. As long as there isn’t a power outage, and nobody manually powers it down or unplugs it, I’ll have plenty of time after we close to go through the files.

And I won’t have nosy old Jason looking over my shoulder.

In fact, maybe I won’t call Jace Pickle. That guy is gone, and now that he’s out the door, I don’t have to worry about corporate spies.

Or hate sparks.

The deli has only been closed for maybe fifteen minutes when Elda approaches me in the industrial freezer.

“Phone call for you,” she says. She glances around the outrageously stuffed freezer shelves. “Dios mio!”

“I know,” I say. Everything on the sandwich line is fresh, but the specialized desserts we serve come frozen. Cheesecakes. Chocolate tortes. A whole line of sweets that never seem to appeal to our lunch crowd.

I’d like to cancel the automatic shipment but talking to the man who brings them has been useless, since he’s just a delivery guy. So they stack up. Maybe I can run a dessert special in hopes of clearing them out. Free cheesecake with a sandwich or something.

I turn to Elda. “Did they say who they were?”

“I didn’t ask,” Elda says. “I’m not a secretary.”

“It’s fine. I’ll get it.” I follow Elda out of the freezer and shut the door. Kate handles our calls when she’s here, taking telephone orders and managing all the salespeople. She’s good at it. I’m always tempted to