Maybe Rodney hadn't been serious after all. It was just a game he played with innocent young women on the subway. In addition to doing whatever he did to make women drool over him like they did, he also liked to pretend he had power over their lives. But that still didn't answer the question of how he knew who I was and how to find me to send the job offer. I really shouldn't have responded.
Then there was an e-mail ding, and Rodney's reply appeared in my in-box. It took me two tries to open it, for my hands were shaking so much that I couldn't hold the mouse steady. "I'm glad you decided to hear us out, Katie," the message read. "Five fifteen today, the coffee shop on Broadway near Rector. You won't regret it."
I wrote the information in my planner, replied that I would meet him at the designated place and time, then deleted the e-mail. Out of sheer paranoia, I went into my sent items folder and deleted both my initial response and my confirmation. I knew Mimi wasn't nearly computer literate enough to know there even was a sent items folder, but I wasn't taking any chances. I wanted the next job firmly lined up before I left this one, willingly or otherwise.
After her outburst earlier in the afternoon, Mimi was strangely quiet the rest of the day. That only made me nervous, for it was likely just the calm before the storm. She was probably in her office plotting ways to make me look bad without making herself look stupid. I kept my fingers crossed most of the day, hoping she didn't pull one of her "Oh, before you leave today" routines of dropping something on my desk at five minutes to five.
At four thirty I took a casual stroll to the bathroom to touch up my hair and makeup.
I wasn't dressed quite the way I'd like to be for a job interview, but this didn't sound like it would be a conventionaljob interview. It wasn't like I was begging Rod to hire me. Instead, I was asking him why I should even listen to him. He should be the one dressing up.
When I'd put a call through to Mimi that I knew would keep her occupied for a while, I printed out my resume, then sprinted to the printer room to collect it the moment it came off the printer. I got it into my briefcase just as Mimi hung up the phone, but she still didn't come into my cube, which was a relief.
The second my computer clock said it was five, I shut it down, then gathered my purse and briefcase. I didn't change into my walking shoes, but that wasn't unusual, as I most often changed in the lobby. I liked to look professional the entire time I was in the office, ever since the day Mimi caught me with an assignment as I came through the door and I had to spend most of the morning in the wrong shoes.
My heart beat faster as I neared the coffee shop. Why was I doing this? Oh yeah, I was stuck in a dead-end job working for a complete psycho. The city sanitation workers had a more pleasant working environment than I did.
Rodney was waiting at a table by the window, just inside the doorway. With him was Mr. Right, the cute guy I'd seen on the subway. I hadn't been imagining that they knew each other. They both stood as I entered. "Katie!" Rodney greeted me, his tone warm and friendly, with none of the smarmy oil he'd had in our previous encounters. "Good to see you. And I'd like you to meet Owen Palmer, one of my colleagues."
Owen, who was just as cute as I'd remembered, actually blushed as he shook my hand. He didn't quite meet my eyes, ducking his head a little bit instead. Most guys who look that good are pretty confident about it, but his shyness was absolutely adorable. If he was part of this company, this job was looking better and better.
"Please have a seat," Rodney said. "Can I get you something to drink?"
"A cappuccino, please," I said. I normally didn't let myself buy the pricier coffee beverages, but it looked like he was paying, so I might as well indulge myself.
He headed off to the counter, which left me alone with Owen. It looked like conversation was up to me, for he seemed to be trying to read his fortune in the nutmeg sprinkles on the top of his own cappuccino. "So, do you live around Union Square?" I asked. "I noticed you yesterday at the subway station."
He blushed again, then looked up at me with a shy smile, almost meeting my eyes this time. "Yes, I do," he said, the first words I'd heard him speak. He had a pleasant voice.
"It's a great area, isn't it? I've lived around there a year, and I don't think I've even begun to explore it." I laughed. "Boy, I sound like a tourist, don't I? No native would gush this much."
Still blushing, he smiled. In spite of his dark, almost black, hair, his skin was fair, so the blushes really showed. Poor guy. I wondered how he survived in business.
