Page 70 of Crossing the Line
TUESDAY
When my eyes blink open, daylight surrounds me. I quickly sit up and then swipe my cellphone off the coffee table. There’s no call from Hercules, and it’s 10:37 a.m. I overslept. But since my beds are being delivered today, I’m scheduled for three remote teleconference meetings. My first is scheduled to start at eleven o’clock.
My head feels heavy as I sit on the edge of the sofa, rubbing my temples. All the weight from dinner with my parents presses on me yet again.What about the Endow the World with Technology benefit that I’ve been tirelessly bringing to life? They want me to just hand it over to someone else?No. I won’t do that. I refuse.
Since I have less than half an hour to prepare for my conference call with Accounting and Marketing to finalize sponsor requests and promotion, I scuttle to the bathroom to wash my face, brush my teeth, and make myself presentable. I’ve stopped paying attention to how worn-out I look in the mirror and pondering the best road to take to get to the other side of all my troubles when my phone beeps.
I rush to retrieve my device and see a message from Ru:Your meetings have been canceled. And I’ve been reassigned to support a new executive effective immediately, apparently. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. Working with you has been like Blue Cherry pie.
My mouth is agape. “What the hell?” I whisper.And why is Ru speaking to me in code?
Blue Cherry is a bar she and I often visit after a very long day to wind down and reset. I’m certain she’s asking me to meet her there, perhaps today by six o’clock. That’s at least an hour after she leaves the office.
I’m steaming mad. I visualize myself barging into Max’s office, disrupting any meeting he’s holding as he sits in his way-too-large executive chair. And come to think of it, his office is too large as well. He has tall-as-hell windows and a conference-room-style table with twelve leather rolling chairs around it. Not to mention the sofa, two armchairs, and a full-service wet bar. All in his office. No wonder he feels so important. He’s made himself the king of the family. No… he’s more like the mercenary, the assassin. Dad issues the warnings and orders, and Max carries out Xander’s wishes. They work as a duo. And the thought brings a bitter taste to my mouth.
My phone beeps, and I raise it to read the message. Max wants me to report to the eighth floor today at two o’clock to meet and brief the TRANSPOT team.
Have something prepared, he tells me.
I laugh harshly. Well, Dad sure didn’t waste any time. Rushing things is a great power play too. He’s forcing me to act quickly and without a strategy.
But right now, this is how I feel. Middle finger up, I flip off my phone. I hope Max doesn’t hold his breath waiting for me to attend his meeting.
