Page 2 of Fraud
ISHOULD REALLY BE WORKING.
That was the solitary thought running through my head on repeat for most of the afternoon. It wasn’t like me.
I was a team player. A go-getter.
A gets-all-her-work-done-but-still-stays-late type of person.
It had made me one of Fremont University’s top employees since I’d graduated from the ranks of student to staff several years ago.
Yet the stack of papers I still had to review sat untouched on my desk as I stared at the computer screen in front of me.
Blinking several times, I hit refresh one more time.
No new emails.
Nothing.
Maybe the server was down.
What if, right at this very minute, billions of emails were piling up for me, and I couldn’t check them because of a server glitch?
Okay, that was highly unlikely.
I sighed. I was never going to get anything done.
Why did I let Jane talk me into this?I wondered as I clicked on my inbox once again, waiting for it to update, only to come up with the same result.
No new emails.
“Hey, Ruby. Is your email working?” I called out, knowing she could hear me loud and clear in the cubicle next to me.
Her head popped up, and I caught a glimpse of her bright red curls.
“I got a random email from IKEA,” Ruby answered before following up with, “Why? Hot date?”
“Very funny.” I rolled my eyes as she took her seat again.
It was widely known that I hadn’t had a date in… a very long time. My coworkers liked to joke around about it, but, really, I thought they just wanted a wedding to plan. It was the downside of being the youngest in an office filled with women.
I got it.
They were all settled with kids of various ages, and I was…well, I had a cat.
And work.
And my email.
Speaking of…
Damn it!
No new emails.Again.
Looking down at the eight different Post-it notes I’d made myself that morning—reminders of various tasks I needed to complete that day—I turned away from my lonely inbox and tried to convince myself to focus on actual work-related things instead of stupid pipe dreams that were never going to happen.
Just as I was about to log in to the campus-wide system, talking myself into one of my monthly projects, my cell phone began vibrating across my desk. Flipping it over in my hand, I looked at the caller ID and felt my heart immediately leap into my throat.
Is it a good thing that she’s calling rather than sending a quick, painless email like she promised?
