Page 3 of Phishing for Love
“We heard,” Sofia says grimly. The three of us exchange unsettled glances. It’s time for our own little meeting. Salt and sugar are urgently required.
“Vending machine,” Sofia announces in a low voice, reading my mind.
Kenzie and I nod in immediate agreement. I feel the stares of everyone on the floor as we exit the workspace area and set off down the long hallway. I’d heard the nickname given to the three of us. Team Trouble. It is not without merit.
The vending machine, tucked away in a quiet corner at the end of the hallway, is our designated gossip station. It’s Kenzie’s turn to choose. She makes her selection, taps her card, and we divvy up the salt and vinegar chips and M&Ms between us. We’d all agreed a long time ago, and not based on any sort of logic, that junk food is perfectly acceptable when shared.
“What are the rumors?” I ask.
“The usual bankruptcy ones,” Kenzie says, picking out all the yellow and orange M&Ms and giving the rest to us. “But that’s doubtful.”
She’s right. There’s very little likelihood Amell Greetings is facing bankruptcy. A couple of months ago, we caught the attention of a reality TV star who gushed about our card range to her fans. Since then, sales had soared, and we’d acquired a small celebrity following of glamour models and lifestyle influencers. Calvin is even toying with the idea of expanding our product line to incorporate other novelty items, including mugs, balloons, and notebooks.
“There’s talk of a possible merger,” says Sofia. “And we all know what comes with that.”
“Layoffs,” I state glumly. I have no merger survival plan. I’m a good writer, but good writers are not exactly an endangered species. There are way too many of us floating around. Kenzie, on the other hand, is wildly talented, her whimsical card designsconsistent hits. And Sofia...well, she is a force to be reckoned with, the marketing genius who’d landed the celebrity fan club for Amell Greetings.
Kenzie squeezes my arm. “Hey, don’t be so pessimistic.”
“Ash brought me a dead mouse this morning,” I say, referring to my rescue brown tabby with the attitude of a Russian Blue. “That should’ve been my warning about the day ahead.”
“Actually, he was bringing you a present,” Kenzie explains, because she has a positive take on everything. “That’s how cats show their affection.”
Sofia snorts. “Oh, please, that’s not affection. That’s her cat saying, ‘here idiot human, this is how you hunt, now get to it.’”
It’s not that Sofia doesn’t like cats. It’s just that she insists she knows their true nature, which is to subjugate all humans and take over the world. She’s even nicknamed AshThanos.
“Well, at least if we’re being laid off, we all look good,” Sofia says, patting her dark hair.
I glance down at what I’m wearing. Calvin, for all his uptightness in certain areas, has a relaxed dress policy at the office, which we all embrace. I’d dressed for the warm May day in tight black jeans and a colorful embroidered top. I’d had my hair done over the weekend, adding caramel highlights to my long, chestnut-brown curls. My hairdresser had assured me this would “freshen up my look.” What I am most grateful for, though, are my sexy ankle boots in soft suede. Just looking at them gives me the confidence boost I need.
“You know, maybe we’re overthinking this,” Kenzie suggests, her delicate, elfin features alight with optimism. “Maybe this whole meeting is about something really trivial.”
Sofia arches a skeptical eyebrow. “Such as?”
Kenzie shrugs. “Maybe Calvin wants to push for bulldogs on the cards again. Like he tried to do after Fitzroy died.”
We all make a face. That had been a delicate time. In his grief, Calvin neglected research findings that suggested card buyers (the majority of whom were women) liked cute, relatable animals on their cards. Think kittens and rabbits, hamsters at a stretch. Certainly not bulldogs.
“All this speculation is getting us nowhere,” Sofia declares. “We need to go straight to the one in the know.”
Kenzie’s eyes widen. “Not Dana.”
“Yes, Dana.”
I shake my head. Calvin’s executive assistant is a vault. “You won’t get anything out of her.”
“Probably not, but at least I’ll have fun trying.”
Kenzie frets her bottom lip. “Don’t do it. She’s still mad at you for the last time.”
Sofia gives a no-problem flick of her hand. “That old battle axe is always mad. Okay, let’s go. We’re all in this together.”
Kenzie and I trail after Sofia as she strides ahead with an easy grace. She’s so formidable she fills me with awe. Calvin’s giant corner office is on the same floor as us, but on the opposite side of the building. Mevia, sensing where we are going and why, raises her fist in solidarity as we pass. A few feet from Dana’s desk, Kenzie bails, as I suspected she would. Any sort of confrontation stresses her out.
“Traitor,” Sofia says without heat, not breaking her stride.
I briefly consider ducking out as well, but honestly, I derive great pleasure from watching Sofia interact with Dana. It’s like my very own never-ending soap opera.
