“Sorry to disturb you on a Friday night.”
“But you’re still working?”
“I am.”
The sound she makes isn’t quite a laugh. “I get it. I only quit an hour ago.”
That doesn’t surprise me. “Have you looked at this annual report?”
“That’s on my list to-do this weekend. Did you find something I need to be aware of?”
“Do you want to know now or should I call back later?”
With a sigh, she shifts. I hear a clink, followed by movement. “I wasn’t getting into this TV show anyway. Tell me now.”
“You sure I’m not interrupting something?”
“Unless you mean a quiet night with the squawk-box, I’m positive.”
It’s stupid and perverse, but I’m pleased she’s alone. “All right. The income side of your statement has improved year over year, particularly the last two.”
Is it a coincidence that the upward trend started when Smith promoted her out of the basement and started listening?
“I’m really proud of that. Marketing has found creative ways to increase consumer market penetration with low-cost campaigns, while the Tech folks have really driven down data storage costs.”
“Totally agree. But your expenses, especially last year, have skyrocketed. Fourth quarter was a bloodbath.” Every single department suddenly opened a project that’s guzzling cash—and there are no supporting details in the report. “What’s Marketing’s PPP Fund financing?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never heard of it.”
“How about HR’s H-and-B Reserve?”
“Sorry. No.”
I frown. “Tech’s FY Initiative?”
“I’m afraid not.”
And yet they’re eating millions of dollars every year. How is it possible she hasn’t heard anyone talk about them? Or seen those bottom-line balance sheets?
There’s something going on, and it’s sketchy as shit.
“Do you have a few minutes to give me your interpretation?” she asks. “I hate to keep you at the office on a Friday night, but I’d like to grab my laptop and talk through the report.”
“Actually, I appreciate that, if you don’t mind me cutting into the start of your weekend.”
“You’re not. I’ll just take my wine with me.”
Is vino the reason for the hint of mellow in her voice?
“Now I’m jealous. I’d love a beer.”
Her laugh is soft and throaty. It does things to me I wish it didn’t.
Finally, after a little more rearranging, she seemingly plants somewhere with her computer. “Give me a minute. This thing is rebooting.”
“No problem.”
“You say that, but I know it’s past office hours in Phoenix, too. Have you even had dinner?”
“Nope. I fell into the rabbit hole with this annual report and…”
“That happens to me all the time. People from every part of the organization come to my office, and they—” She stops herself with a forced laugh. “Well, they realize they’ve found a sucker who wants to figure out what makes Reservoir tick and doesn’t mind putting in the effort to fix whatever’s broken.”
I don’t doubt that. “I was the same in my previous corporate job.”
It’s probably true of Jeremy. He’s a go-getter, and if he didn’t have a broken heart now, he wouldn’t have given me this account.
But if I can relate to Sloan on a personal level, I can build trust between us. She might get comfortable enough to blurt some of Reservoir’s hush-hush plans, particularly about when and how they intend to approach Wynam.
“I can picture that. And since a leopard doesn’t change its spots, that’s probably why you’re still in the office at nine o’clock.”
I’m actually not, but I’ve done it often enough to confess. “Guilty.”
“Workaholic, huh?”
“It takes one to know one.”
She gives me that soft, husky laugh again. “Touché. So…you had the pleasure of talking to all three Rawson boys. How was that?”
“A thrill and a half.” I don’t even try to disguise my sarcasm.
“I’m sure it was. After all, you got a blow job vicariously through Shane.”
“It was incredibly cringy.”
“For me, too. I’m very careful when I call him now.”
“He’s done that same thing to you?” I don’t know why I’m surprised. Maybe because it’s even weirder that he’d be getting off with his sister on the phone.
“When he first started, I called to introduce myself and advise him that I’d be working on some critical projects under his purview. During our conversation, I’m pretty sure he was having sex with his previous assistant. She wasn’t quiet.”
I grimace. “And no one calls him on that behavior?”
“Who’s going to tell the boss’s son to clean up his act?”
She’s got a point, but Bruce Rawson should have taken care of that long ago. Maybe he tried, and Shane just doesn’t care. Or maybe his health is failing more than Brady led me to believe.
“Wow… It’s almost too bad Brady and Rogan aren’t involved in the organization. At least Brady has drive, and Rogan is smart.”
“Right?” She sighs. “Did Rogan say why he thought you needed to call me?”
Is she wondering if the guy let the cat out of the bag about the fact they’re siblings? “After I explained my fiasco with his oldest brother, he assured me you could help. He was right.”
“I try.” She pauses, then grunts in frustration. “I think this computer is taking a freaking update. Seriously? Now?”
“Never happens at a convenient time, does it?” I empathize with her, but I don’t mind. Our conversation is going somewhere. I want her to feel comfortable with me. No, she’s not being honest yet…but I’ll get her there.
“I can call you another time if you want to leave the office, grab your dinner, and enjoy your evening,” she offers.
“I’m good. I had a late lunch, and I’m not in a hurry to head home and choke down something frozen to the sounds of the nightly news. This is way more entertaining.”
She laughs. “I like a good mystery, too.”
Sloan is a lot more laid-back, even friendlier, than she was during our first conversation. It’s progress. I wonder how she’ll take to some light flirting. “That’s part of it. But I also like talking to you.”
“Thanks. Same.”
Besides hearing a smile in her voice, I also detect the merest hint of something soft and Southern that makes me hard. And it’s mighty interesting that she didn’t revert to professional mode or shut me down.
Yeah, it’s fucking stupid, but Sloan intrigues me. I wish I could see her whole face, not just a profile in her picture.
“My computer is almost done,” she remarks into the momentary quiet. “Sorry for the delay.”
“No problem. Word of warning: I hate awkward silences, so I’m going to fill it with something ridiculous.”