Page 52 of The Crowned Garza
The door opens and a man-bun-wearing Thor lookalike walks in holding a laptop. “We’re having some—” He stops when he notices me and offers a deferential nod. “Oh, hi, Miss Garza.”
He’s unfamiliar to me. But everyone who works here knows me—for obvious reasons—while I know only a handful by face and even fewer by name.
“It’s just Tillie.” I give him a small wave and a flirty smile. “Miss Garza is my granny.”
His laugh is nervous. “Sorry. Tillie.”
“What’s your name? You’re cute. And I like your accent.”
He scratches his beard, blushing. “Jesse.”
“Are you Austra—”
“What did you want?” Saint clips, impatient.
“Oh, right. We’re having a bit of a snag with the coding for the Lumique project. We were just, uh, wondering if you wouldn’t mind giving it a look over?”
“This is the fourth time this week you’ve ‘hit a snag.’ What’s going on across there?”
When Jesse just rubs the back of his neck, Saint shakes his head and takes the laptop from him. After about a minute of reading whatever’s on the screen, he asks, “Did Zira go over this?”
“She did.”
“All of you went over this?”
Jesse’s answer is hesitant. “Yes…”
“And out of all twelve of you, none of you can see what the problem is?”
“I—”
“Even though it’s right fucking there?”
“We just thought you would—”
“Solve it for you. Like I’ve been doing all week,” Saint finishes. “You know what I think,Jesse? I think maybe your checks are too fat and you’ve all gotten complacent. So here’s the thing, if I solve this for you right now, one of you will be losing your spot on the team.” He shoves the laptop back at him. “Go back and decide amongst yourselves who that person will be.Or do what you’re getting paid to do and fix the damn code.”
Jesse voices his understanding and flees the office.
“From what I hear, you’re a ‘mad genius,’” I comment when Saint closes the door. “King of problem-solving and master of multitasking. Do you really expect everyone else to operate on your level?”
“You mean the carefully selected people who are getting paid top dollar to do so?” he asks with a raised brow. “Yes, I do.” He strides over and picks up the takeout bag. “Come.”
Like an obedient lamb, I follow him to the back-right corner where he opens a door that leads into a nice galley bathroom. Next to the vanity is a wide bathroom closet. He moves to it and open the doors, revealing shelves of hand towels and bathroom supplies.
“Move quickly,” he throws at me over his shoulder.
At first, I’m confused, until he touches something on one of the shelves and it suddenly spins like a revolving door. With quick feet, I slip through behind him before it rotates back in place.
Now we’re in a small room with a tube elevator. “Yeesh, why does everything with you feel like being in a James Bond movie?”
He scans his wrist in front of the sensor by the elevator then prods me inside when the door curves open. “You don’t know much about what goes on here or how advanced the firm has gotten, do you?”
“Apparently not.” Though, I suppose that’s my fault for not paying enough attention or showing much interest. Just living in my own little world.
The elevator seals us in and whisks us upward.
“Where does this lead?”
