Chapter 4

 

I couldn't hide forever, but I was willing to try. I'd hidden my food in the far corners of the employee refrigerator behind a tub of mystery soup so cultured the fungus had evolved as far as the Industrial Revolution. With food in hand I snuck away to my usual hiding spot, a far corner of the back room close to the outside doors used for loading and dumping trash. All around me were metal shelves in long, narrow blocks with hallways between them. They were stacked high with merchandise, and nearby I heard a forklift work at getting some pallets down off the higher shelves. I wedged myself between two precariously tall stacks of cardboard boxes full of squeaky toys. They'd been part of a recall that never quite reached the loading dock, and now sat there perfect for my use.

I plopped my wide load down on one of the boxes and was about to open my brown bag when I had an unwelcome visitor in the form of Alex. I noticed him before he noticed me, as he appeared to be either looking for something or had a very short attention span. His head turned left and right, and he moved slow he didn't miss anything. I wished he would have missed me, but I couldn't squish myself back far enough to avoid his searching eyes.

"Well, hello there," he smoothly greeted me.

"What do you want?" was my polite reply.

He was surprised by my blunt counterattack. "You don't seem glad to see me."

"You didn't exactly tell me the full truth last night," I snapped back. I reached into my bag, pulled out a tuna sandwich and tore into it like a carnivore. He was so intimidated he sat down on the cold, hard floor beside my box.

"I'm pretty sure that was true for both parties. You didn't tell me you worked for the Stacy store," he pointed out.

I shrugged. "You didn't ask."

"Yes, I did. You said you had stock in the company."

"Well, I have a few shares, so I wasn't lying. Besides, I didn't know you were the guy who was trying to buy out the place. I thought you were a playboy with some strange pickup lines."

He smirked. "I am a playboy of sorts, but my pickup lines are better than that. You should know that."

I choked on my sandwich. "So your offer to get my clothes cleaned was a pickup line?"

"I saved a damsel in distress," he rephrased.

"I wasn't in distress, I was in discomfort."

"Still, you called out and I came."

"If you're claiming to be a white knight then I'll sue you for false advertising."

"Did I treat you badly? Were my actions not pure?" he coyly asked me.

"I think we had this discussion last night about you using that word wrong."

"I have this feeling we've rekindled this relationship on the wrong foot."

"That was a terrible mix of old sayings."

Alex stood up and held out his hand for me to shake. "My name is Alex Brenton. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Georgina Trammel."

"The pleasure is all yours," I quipped, but shook his hand. "And it's George. Georgina is too long."

"George is a boy's name."

"And Alex is a girl's name."

"Not necessarily, and I'm living proof to the contrary."

"I could change that if you don't let me eat my sandwich. . ." I grumbled.

"Actually, I wanted to know if you wished to have lunch with me," he offered.

I sighed and dropped my sandwich back in the bag. "You know you're really persistent," I noted.

"That's what the restraining orders tell me," he joked. At least, I hoped he was joking.

"Those lucky ladies. . ." I mumbled.

"So what do you say? I know a great place a few blocks down."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why do you want me to go with you so bad?"

"Why wouldn't I?" he countered.

"Because you know I'm a lowly forklift operator at the store you're trying to merge with and not some jet-setting, beautiful, smart, international spy," I pointed out.

He laughed. "Well, I still think you're beautiful and smart, and I still want to take you out to lunch, but you might want to lose the coveralls." He glanced down at my filthy attire. To me every hole and oil spot was a badge of honor. "Besides, I want to hear all about the company, and you're the best person to talk to about it."

I snorted. "What about Mullen?" I suggested.

Alex cringed. "Mr. Mullen is-well, he's very eager to show me all the benefits and shield me from the realities."

"You mean with how many people your merger could lay off?" I asked him.

He folded his arms across his chest and shrugged. "It's nothing personal against them, it's just business."

I jumped to my feet and gestured to the floor behind him. In the distance I could hear my coworkers calling out instructions or those at lunch laughing together over their food. "They're not just business, they're people." I stomped toward him and poked him in the chest with my grubby work glove. "If you had any human decency you'd take your merger proposition and shove it up next to that stiff stick in your ass."

He held up his hands between us and stumbled back. "I didn't mean anything-"

"Sure you did, you meant every word of it," I shot back. I steered him down the corridor toward the trash door. "And if you had any human decency you'd-watch out!"

A forklift came around the corner of one of the large shelving units and didn't see us until they were almost on top of us. It swerved at the last moment and slammed into the stack of toy boxes to my left. The precarious boxes swayed and toppled over, and I felt a pair of strong arms wrap around my waist and pull me out of range of the deadly peril that was squeaky toys. The boxes hit the ground a foot away from my feet and the toys spilled out onto the hard floor. The worst part was not a single one made a sound. They were recalled because the company had forgotten to put the squeak in the squeaky toys. The forklift driver had been saved from the sharp, pointy cardboard boxes by the machine's cage, and he stumbled out of the carnage without a scratch.

I have to admit that even without any deadly peril my heart still pounded and I clutched onto my savior. He chuckled, and I looked up into Alex's smiling face. "I could get used to this saving-a-damsel-every-day thing, provided you're the damsel," he teased.

"Don't get used to it," I quipped.

"But are you all right?" he asked me.

"I think your priorities are a little off, but nothing a little chocolate won't fix," I replied.

At that moment the inventory manager, a guy by the name of Dick Stouten, ran around the corner and surveyed the damage. He was the last person on earth I wanted to see, much less on the inventory floor. We didn't see eye to eye, mostly because he was a foot taller than me but also because he was an ass. We'd had arguments before that, if words could hurt, would have killed both of us. Nobody else liked him that much, either, and he'd acquired the nickname of The Dick.

"What the hell happened here?" he screamed at us. His eyes zeroed in on me in the arms of my self-described savior. "You did this, didn't you?" he yelled.

"Actually, it was my fault," Alex spoke up.

The Dick looked the man over and, finding he didn't recognize him, thought he could push him around. "What the hell are you doing in here? Non-employees aren't supposed to be back here! I'll have you arrested for trespass and property damage!"

Thankfully Mullen rounded the corner behind Stouten. Mullen didn't provide any more intelligence to the crowd, but he at least brought some sanity. He surveyed the damage and his face paled when he noticed Alex beside me. "Mr. Brenton, are you all right?" he yelped as he hurried over to us.

"I'm fine, it was just a small accident," Alex consoled him.

"What happened here? Who is this man?" Stouten interrupted. He waved so wildly at Alex that I thought his arm would shoot off.

Mullen shot Stouten a look of warning. "This man is Mr. Alex Brenton, of the Brenton Corporation," Mullen replied, with an emphasis on the corporation part.

Stouten paled. "O-oh, I see. I'm very sorry for shouting at you, Mr. Brenton." I half expected him to kowtow to Alex.

"That's quite all right, but I think you owe this young woman an apology, too," Alex replied.

Stouten's pale face gained some red color and he glared at me. "What were you doing back here during your lunch hour?" he harshly scolded me.

I held up my crumpled brown bag. "Eating lunch," I blandly answered.

"You shouldn't have been back here doing it," Stouten insisted.

"It was an accident, sir, but if anyone's to blame it's me," Alex insisted. "I wasn't watching where I was going and walked in front of the forklift."

Stouten glanced over to the forklift operator, the same Phil I'd mistaken Alex for the the previous evening. "Is this true?"

Phil, never the brightest bulb in the back room, shrugged. "I came around the corner, saw them and swerved."

Mullen clapped his hands and nodded his head. "You see, just an accident," he spoke up. "I'm sure everyone just needs to get back to work, and we can finish our tour of the building and employees," he added, addressing Alex.

"That'd be great," Alex replied without enthusiasm. There went his plans for our lunch date. He turned to me with a disappointed smile. "I guess I'll see you later."

"I guess," I noncommittally replied. He'd have to catch me first.

Alex walked off with Mullen, and that let Phil and me with Stouten, who stepped up to me so close I could smell the onions on his breath. "You got off lucky this time, Trammel, but another screwup like this and you're out of here, you understand?"

"Yes, sir." I longed to tell him how I really felt, but I longed to avoid the unemployment line more, so I kept my mouth shut.

Mullen glanced past me at Phil. "And get this mess cleaned up!" He stalked off to harass more of our coworkers, and Phil stepped up to me.

"What a Dick. . ." he grumbled.

"You're telling me," I agreed.

"Yeah, I am." Like I said, not the brightest bulb. He glanced back at the toys strewn on the floor. "Anyway, I'll get this cleaned up after my lunch."

"And I'll start as soon as I get off mine," I replied.

I initiated Plan B and went to the employee break room to finish my meal, but I didn't find get a break in there. Jamie found me a few minutes later, and she'd heard enough from Phil to want to know more from me. I sat at one of the round tables and she slid into the seat next to me. Her face had a smile so wide I wondered how it didn't crack her face, and she stared at me without blinking. It was creepy and the last of my appetite fled before her scary look. I set my sandwich back into the bag and sighed. "What?" I asked her.

"Is it true?"

"Is what true?"

"That you were with that Brenton guy?"

"Yes, it's all true, even the part about the pink elephant."

Jamie wagged her eyebrows. "So what were you two talking about?" she wondered.

"We were wondering whether or not the squeaky toys were out to get us. I guess we found out," I quipped.

Jamie pressed her lips together in a pout. "I'm being serious."

"So am I. Those toys could have caused a nasty bonk on the head."

"You're not being serious, now 'fess up. Was he trying to romance you?"

I glanced around. We were alone, or practically. Some of our coworkers were dull enough that being in a room with them meant you were alone. I leaned down toward Jamie and dropped my voice to a whisper. "He asked me to go to lunch with him."

"Really?" she squealed. I slapped my hand over her mouth and scowled at her. She sheepishly grinned and I took my hand away. "Really?" she whispered.

"Really, but could we talk about this later? Like sometime after Armageddon?" I pleaded.

Jamie winked. "I got ya. We'll talk after work." She zoomed off before she saw me roll my eyes clear out of my sockets.