my last nerve. To think I was looking forward to planting the tip of my heel in the screen, pressing down with a satisfying crunch, and putting an end to this insanity.
My finger taps the button on the front, turning it on.
“Seventeen missed calls?” I whisper out loud, reading the screen. “At least seventeen. More like seventeen hundred.” I scroll down. “Twenty-two text messages? Again, at least.”
All from Unknown. Damn spammers.
I flip the phone over, looking for the off button, when it buzzes in my hand again. My fingers shake so violently I feel like I’m holding on to a restless frog trying to leap away.
It’s another text. Mr. or Mrs. Unknown again.
Confirmation needed on tomorrow’s meeting ASAP. Answer me.
I shake my head, pursing my lips and staring at the message. I almost feel sorry for Unknown.
Whoever they are, they’ve put an awful lot of confidence in this firm. And if they’re stupid enough to believe Manny Stork is as good a lawyer as he believes he is, that’s their problem, not mine.
The message disappears, and I notice the time. “7:15? Christ. Maybe I’m the stupid one. There goes another four hours I’ll never be paid for.”
Saying it confirms how done I am with this day.
I’ve been here since seven this morning. I grit my teeth. As my boss, Mr. Asshat, Esquire himself, has said in the weeks since I’ve been here, ‘working long hours doesn’t always equal smart hours.’
He doesn’t have the saying quite right, but the meaning’s there. For me, I think it means one more day shot in the head.
But tomorrow’s another day. There’s always a teensy-tiny chance it might suck a little less than this one.
It might even be the day I’m done with this shady data recovery crap so maybe, just maybe, I can actually start working on a real case like Manny promised. Something I can sink my teeth into and hopefully, enjoy. Not to mention make my education pay off.
Hopefully I’ll remember what I supposedly learned. I graduated with a degree in marketing and went back for a paralegal certificate later, but have to admit, writing was always the one thing on my mind, which didn’t make me the best student.
The phone buzzes again.
Another text.
Confirmation ASAP!
I stare at the words until they disappear, feeling a tug of anxiety. Should I, or shouldn’t I?
Obviously, it’s a total invasion of privacy to play with a mysterious stranger who wants to reach my boss really badly over the phone. But it’s an invasion of a girl’s sanity to have no fun ever at work.
What the hell? I am an associate, after all.
Manny keeps his schedule in his phone, but I’ll be here all day tomorrow. And the next day, and the day after that, searching through old computer files that barely hint at anything. This could be one of his side gigs where I can get some answers.
I click on the text icon, and then type fast, before I lose my nerve.
Confirmed.
Then, practically shaking in my heels with a snicker, I jet for the door.
When I reach to click off the light, I realize the phone’s still in my hand. I consider putting it back, but probably should scroll through the messages so I know what time this meeting is that I just confirmed.
Manny won’t miss the phone.
He won’t be back until nine a.m. tomorrow morning. I’ll be here by seven. Besides, if he wanted or needed it so badly, he’d have taken it with him.
Since my wonderful boss has been so amazing to me, I’m glad I could return the favor.
At my desk, I drop the phone into my purse, turn off the old dinosaur computer and the newer laptop, and then lock the office door. I lock up the outside door of the small brick building as well, and then climb in my Buick Regal.
Don’t laugh. It’s an old boat of a car, but I need the head room. In all honesty though, the old girl’s showing her age.
A decade of savage Minnesota winters, driving on ice and salt covered roads, is always hard on cars. I’m going to miss this beast if and when I can ever afford a new one. She’s never failed me.
The old US Mail slogan comes to mind: neither snow nor rain nor heat nor gloom...
She delivers. And I’m thankful I have one thing in my life I can count on.
Tonight’s no different, and Old Pearl – although her pearl white paint has faded into a dull ecru color