I’ve done the rounds and met every single person in Morgan Financial Holdings’ marketing department. All except one. But I’ve put this off until almost quitting time, and now I need to face the music. I’ve gone alone to each impromptu introduction, but I’m tempted to ask that Clive guy to come along with me to meet Ben Schilling. I’m not going to do that, though. I’m going to merely stand in his doorway to introduce myself, give him my usual spiel, and then be on my way back to my new office, which, sadly, is next to Ben’s, in a shared space with Clive Burgess.
And then there’s Clive.
I haven’t quite figured that guy out. According to Graham, Clive gave him the folder, but it’s unclear whether or not he’s the author. Call me Sherlock, but my guess is Mr. Burgess is the one who compiled the dossier-like information on each and every member on this marketing team. Most of which is not flattering. Especially about Ben Schilling. He received the most scathing remarks. Sure, I know there’s a backstory there. One of the support staff mentioned that Clive was Ben’s assistant up until the day before I arrived, and he’d been in that job for almost eighteen months. So there’s bad blood there, obviously. The question is, why?
I’ve checked out the background on those mentioned in the report. Clive’s is impressive. He got his business degree from Yale, which makes him overqualified for whatever the hell this job is. Special projects liaison. I give myself an inner eye roll because I don’t like this liaison stuff. In the past, I’ve always reported directly to the company head. It’s easier that way, and it prevents things from getting lost in translation. But if Graham Morgan wants a liaison, he can have one.
Choosing to go it alone rather than including Clive for this one, I step up to Ben’s door and knock. When there’s no response, I knock again.
“Come in.”
Turning the knob, I push the door open but remain just outside the threshold. He’s not at his desk, so I lean in and look left, just around the door, but he’s not there either. Scanning right, I can’t help wondering where he is. He can’t be far—his office is small, the smallest I’ve seen so far—so I say, “Ben Schilling?”
When his head pops up from behind his desk, it startles me. I’m guessing I surprised him too, because his face looks rather flushed and… is that sweat?
“Yeah?” He quickly jumps to his feet, and I can see he’s winded.
“What were you doing?”
“Push-ups.”
Push-ups? “In your office?” I try not to but can’t help myself. I look at his arms through his dress shirt.
“It helps me think.”
Wow, he must think a lot because his arms are bulging. I shrug. “We all have our things.”
“Oh yeah? What’s yours? Punching guys in the face?” And then he smirks.
“I only punch people who deserve it.”
His smirk falls. “I was merely trying to help you get your foot out of that grate. I was—”
I hold up my hand to stop this conversation. “I just stopped by to introduce myself and to tell you that I don’t feel comfortable talking to you one-on-one, so in the future, Clive will need to be with us.” The hard eye roll he gives me makes me a little irritated. “What?” I snap.
“That’s fine. But not Clive.”
“He’s the li—”
“Liaison. I know.” Eye roll number two. “I’d prefer if you chose one of the other assistants. Please.”
“So, you have no problem with that?”
“I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”
Good. Nodding, I step away from his door. “Great.” Without another word, I turn, take three steps, and enter what is supposed to be my own office. I blink in confusion when I see Clive sitting at the one and only desk in the room. When I checked out the office earlier to drop off my computer bag, Clive wasn’t around, and since I haven’t been back to this office all day, I’m surprised to see him. “Oh, uh….” What do I tell this guy? “You’re in my seat?” No. I’m not going to say that. “I think I’m supposed to work in here.”
Clive simply stares at me. He’s blinking, and they appear to be extra-slow blinks like he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “We’re sharing this office?”
Sharing? I didn’t expect to share an office with the liaison. Obviously, it’s the first he’s hearing of this as well.
Not knowing what to say, I just shrug.
Clive stands slowly and looks around the impressive office. “There’s no room for another desk.”
I do the same, scanning the space and noting it’s nearly as big as Graham’s office a floor above. There’s plenty of room for another desk, but here’s the deal: I don’t want to share an office with Clive Burgess. As far as I’m concerned, Clive is under the microscope too. Anyone who has, allegedly, spent that much time compiling intel on his coworkers rather than actually working is just as much a problem as the guy who spends too much time playing solitaire on his office computer.
“Well.” I smile to alleviate some of the tension I feel in the room. “It’s almost time to call it a night. Let’s figure this out tomorrow.”
“Great.” He plops back down into his overstuffed chair and turns to his computer.
I take a moment to look at the office again. It’s nice. There are black-and-white posters of places like Paris and London about the space. There’s a large plant in one corner next to the floor-to-ceiling windows that give an impressive view of the city. Yeah, it’s very nice.
Absently, I look at the wall we share with Ben Schilling and recall his office has no windows. It’s also a quarter the size of this one, with barely enough room to walk around his desk. This office has a sitting area with a sofa, coffee table, and side chair.
“Whose office was this?”
“No one’s,” he says without looking up from the screen. “The former head of marketing had this office, but the new head, Sam, chose one closer to the elevators.”
“I see.” Not really. It makes no sense, but there’s no need to worry about that now.
“How long has it been vacant?”
Clive shrugs. “A year or two.”
A year or two? If it’s been empty that long, why didn’t Ben take this office? I might as well ask. “Why didn’t Ben Schilling move into this space?”
Clive stops typing and looks up at me. His slow blink is a little unnerving. Then he smirks. “He never asked.”
“Ah, I see.” No, actually, I don’t.
“Well, see you tomorrow.”
“Uh-huh,” Clive says absently. He’s already back to his computer.
I step over and retrieve my computer bag that’s on the floor in front of a small door. “Is that a bathroom?”
“Sure is,” Clive mumbles but still doesn’t bother looking up at me.
Without another word, I turn and step out of the office while at the same time pulling my phone out of my bag. I need to figure this office thing out tonight so I don’t have a repeat of any of this with Clive. I definitely don’t feel like sharing an office is a good idea.