dating this guy on Pablo Escobar’s team. Archibald. I think he must be ten times her age!”
She smirks. “With a name like Archibald, I’m not surprised. Is he at least cute?”
“He looks like Sean Connery, minus the teeth.”
“What?” she guffaws.
“I know. It’s weird. One minute I looked over at his cubicle, he had teeth and the next minute, they were sitting in a glass of water.”
Kars slurps her juice through a straw. “Hey, I’d date a James Bond with dentures.”
“Well, they’re an oddball couple, but they make a good match. After all, Ingeborg could be mistaken for a Bond girl.”
Kars bobs her head. “That she could.” After a pregnant pause, she asks, “Who is your favorite double O seven?”
“Pierce Brosnan,” I say without hesitation, “although I think Clive Owen would make the ultimate Bond. Maybe even Zachary Levi. What about you?”
“Psssh! Connery any day. And I’m so glad that you didn’t say Daniel Craig.”
“Daniel Craig?” I echo. “What’s wrong with him?”
“Sean Connery—chest hair. Roger Moore—chest hair. Even your dashing Pierce Brosnan had chest hair. And then WHAMO! Daniel Craig—hairless! Not anywhere! He’s plucked, preened and waxed up like a baby seal.”
“Baby seals are cute,” I insist. “Now, would you rather go to bed with a woolly mammoth or a baby seal?”
“Woolly mammoth!” she woofs. “He’ll keep me warm at night; the slippery baby seal will just slide right off the bed. Plus, I like real men, and real men have hair on their bodies.”
I roll my eyes. “I know. You’ve said it many times before. You don’t like your men to look prettier than you.”
“Um-hmmmm, I don’t have a penchant for pre-teen girls.” She pauses for effect. “Like you.”
Instinctively, I kick her under the table. “Mika is all man.”
“Mika may be, but not Zac Efron,” she smirks.
“Hey! Don’t you be talking smack about my Zac,” I cry in an injured voice. “I’ll take Zac over Sean Connery any day.”
Kars fervently shakes her head. “Not me. I’ll have to side with Ingeborg on this one and pick Connery.”
Burying my nose in my coffee mug, I speculate, “You may be right about Ingeborg. Maybe she really is trying to find a replacement for her daddy to fill this fatherless vacuum in her life. Only in her case, it’s granddaddy.”
“Better an old man’s darling than a young man’s slave.” Kars laughs. “Is he nice? Grandpa Connery?”
“Yeah, he seems like a really sweet guy. He dotes on Ingeborg and she appears genuinely happy. And…he’s not married,” I say for good measure.
An awkward pause follows.
I tentatively broach the subject, “So, are you still seeing Bob?”
Another pause ensues. I wait for Kars to fill the silence.
Eventually, she says with a pained expression, “I haven’t seen him since my surgery. And he hasn’t returned any of my calls.”
Janis, who was washing dishes at the sink, strides over and squeezes Karsynn’s shoulders. “You deserve better sweetheart.”
I nod, agreeing with Janis. “You do.”
I am compelled to rehash the Bob and Nina incident that I witnessed in the cafeteria the other day, but somehow, I can’t bring myself to. And I don’t think I need to. Kars looks suitably chastised and I have a feeling she already knows it’s over.
Twelve
Today is Karsynn’s first day back at work since her surgery and there is a noticeable buzz about the floor as we breeze into the office. I make a beeline for Truong’s cubicle and tap my AP wire on the shoulder.
“Truong! What’s going on?”
He swivels around. “I’ve got ball breaking news! The shit hit the fan,” he cries, bubbling with excitement. Then he sees Kars, and his bubbles fizzle somewhat. He darts her a nervous glance and tones it down a notch. “Bob got fired...Nina too. I just saw security escort them out.”
“What happened?” demands Kars.
Truong dithers. “Um, are you sure you want to know?”
“Tell me!” she shrieks and I can hear the hysteria in her voice.
“It’s not so pretty,” he warns. After a sharp intake of breath, he spills the beans, “Bob and Nina were caught boinking in the parking garage. And security caught it all on tape.”
All the color drains from Karsynn’s face, and her expressions vacillate between shock and sorrow.
Before we can pump Truong for details, The Führer stands up from her watch post and cracks her whip. “Girls! Get to work!”
Kars skulks off to her cubicle while Truong and I pretend to look busy at our desks.
As I am loading up my apps, it suddenly dawns on me.
This means Bob is out of Karsynn’s life forever. I