Page 29 of Forty, Flirty & Fired

"Already growing faster than Nonna's sourdough starter."

My phone buzzes – a text from Alex. No, from Mr. Drake. I need to stop thinking of him as Alex, especially after our "business dinner" a few nights ago, which had felt decidedly un-business-like by dessert.

DRAKE:Board meeting in 20. Bring the preliminary feedback data.

ME:Even the ping pong table manifestos?

DRAKE:Especially those. Gerald's a secret table tennis champion.

"You're smiling at your phone," Lucia observes. "Either Nonna found a new cannoli recipe, or your fake nemesis texted you."

"He's not my—" My protest is interrupted by more feedback forms sliding off my desk. "Help me sort these before the board meeting."

"You mean help you avoid talking about whatever happened at that dinner the two of you had?”

"Nothing happened." Which is technically true. We'd had aperfectly professional meal at a quiet restaurant downtown. If I'd gotten distracted by the way his hands moved when he talked about reforming corporate culture, or how his eyes crinkled when he really smiled... well, that was my problem.

"Sure." Lucia picks up another form. "That's why you came home looking like someone who just had their views on ethical business practices thoroughly compromised."

"My views are perfectly intact, thank you." I gather my tablet and notes. "Unlike my professional dignity if I'm late to this meeting."

"Speaking of professional dignity..." She holds up her phone, showing me the latest viral post from my alter ego:

@MizzByteMyAlgos: "TECH TEA TIME: What's worse than mandatory meditation? Mandatory meditation next to your Accounting Guy’s emotional breakdown corner. Some spaces should stay sacred, people. #CorporateZen #TearsAndTypeA"

"You're getting bolder with these posts," she warns. "Also funnier."

"I'm just aggregating industry observations." I straighten my jacket – emerald green today, because if I have to face the board, I'm doing it in power colors. "Besides, that post could be about any tech company."

"Right. Because every tech company has a Brad from Accounting who cries during quarterly reviews."

"You'd be surprised." I head for the door. "Hold down the fort and keep sorting. I need solid data for phase two."

"Phase two?" She calls after me. "What happened to the exposé?"

What indeed.

The board room is already full when I arrive, but Alex – Mr. Drake – stands when I enter, a gesture that makes Barbara Cho’s eyebrows hit her hairline.

"Ms. Gallo." He gestures to the seat beside him. "Ready to share your findings?"

No. Yes. Maybe. The data is solid, but my conviction about exposing Drake Enterprises' toxic culture is... complicated. Especially after that dinner.

"The preliminary results are... interesting." I connect my tablet to the display. "Two weeks of anonymous feedback has revealed several systemic issues."

"Such as?" Gerald Matthews looks like he's ready to dismiss everything before I even start.

"Well, for one, your middle managers are creating bottlenecks by hoarding information." I pull up my first chart. "Sixty percent of employees report being unable to do their jobs effectively because critical information gets stuck at the management level."

"That's standard corporate hierarchy," Barbara argues.

"No, that's standard corporate dysfunction." I swipe to the next slide. "You're literally paying people to not do their jobs efficiently because some managers think information is power."

"Ms. Gallo—" Gerald starts, but Alex cuts him off.

"Let her finish."

Our eyes meet briefly. He's wearing a tie that exactly matches my jacket, which is either a cosmic joke or evidence that his executive assistant has a sense of humor.

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