Knitting in the City 01 Neanderthal Seeks Human (34 page)

Introductions were made swiftly; the unknown person was the nephew of the casino owner and the manager of the new club; his name was Alex or Adrien or Adien or
Allen something like that. I was introduced rather formally as Ms. Morris, Senior Fiscal Project Coordinator and manager of the account. We shook hands. He may have smiled and held my hand a little too long; he might also have winked. I wasn’t in the mood to really notice anything about him.

Allen- or Adien or whatever his name was- was going to escort us to and give us a tour of the new club, the club for which we were to provide security, for which we’d prepared the presentation. I tried to push myself to feel at least some professional interest in the tour if not some normal
inquisitiveness.

I was informed
, by Olivia on the elevator ride up, that Quinn and Steven had a separate meeting with the client to go over the private account. A meeting I wasn’t invited to attend. I spared her a waxy, unconcerned smile.

The tour was fine. The club was fine
, although it looked peculiar as it was empty of partygoers and was rather brightly lit by several west-facing windows. It didn’t look anything like Outrageous; it just appeared to be a typical nightclub; although, in its defense, they hadn’t yet finished decorating. There were several men, I assumed construction workers, coming in and out of the main space but I expended no mental energy noticing them.

We ate lunch at a black table near one of the windows. I didn’t notice
the view of the Las Vegas Strip nor the landscape of rust-capped ridges and canyons beyond.

I drifted through these
happenings, not tasting my food, speaking when spoken to, answering questions but not really asking any of my own. I was wholly uncurious which should have concerned me. But it didn’t.

There were a few more tours- the casino floor, the lock room, a few sections of the basem
ent. Finally, after an indeterminable amount of time and banal chit chat, we were taken to a conference room and prodded with coffee, tea, and cucumber water. The club manager left briefly while Carlos and Olivia set up for the presentation; he pulled out a thumb drive and she placed hardcopy packets in front of each of the conference table’s large leather seats.

Then, in walked S
teven and Quinn and, suddenly, my brain engaged. I started noticing.

In fact, I couldn’t stop noticing.

I noticed that he didn’t look at me or speak to me and seemed to sit in the seat furthest from mine.

I noticed that Carlos made all the int
roductions as the client entered- Mr. Northumberland- a tall, tanned, trim man in his fifties with black eyes and pepper hair. He owned the casino. His nephew, the one who was either called Aiden or Allen or Alex or something starting with ‘A’, entered the room behind him and an entourage of four more men and three women followed. I suspected their names didn’t matter. They weren’t making decisions; they may as well have been curtains.

There were some initial niceties- comments about college football, someone pointed out that it was hot outside, I was asked if I’d had a chance to spend any time gambling
since we’d arrived. I wanted to respond that life was a gamble and we were all losers. Instead, suppressing my emo-moroseness, I replied in the negative and settled into my seat.

Then the presentation began
. Though my color was normal throughout, I knew it was only a matter of time before he would say something or do something to set my Rudolf light blinking. The man had my button in his possession and he pressed it, repeatedly.

I couldn’t help but notice that Mr. Northumberland seemed very impatient- impatient to get the presentation started then, during the presentation, impatient to ensure that our security implementation would be completed by next month. He interrupted Quinn with some frequency asking questions like:

“How much time will that take?” and “Don’t you already have everything you need?” and “Is that going to delay the project?”

As the presentation ended Olivia stood and adjusted the lights in the room and Quinn requested that the casino staff open the packet in fro
nt of each of them. He took the group through the implementation plan, the timeline, the resources we would provide, the cost; suddenly he surprised me, and I guessed the rest of our team, by adding:

“These budget numbers are initial estimates. We’re planning an overhaul to our billing structure in order to provide corporate clients with a greater level of granularity. The next time you see the cost estimates and- for that matter- the invoices, they’ll have line item detail.”

Mr. Northumberland nodded with what I guessed was appreciation because he said, “That’s good, that’s good- just as long as it doesn’t hold anything up.”

Quinn assured him the changes would not preclude moving the project forward and then
Quinn was discussing networking and wiring requirements of the space and the subject changed and I could only watch him with mystified incredulity.

I felt Steven’s foot tap against mine under the table and swung my gaze to meet his. He had this ability to enlarge his grey eyes and narrow them at the same time
; it often impressed me. This was the look he administered; it was meant to dually convey surprise and suspicion. I shook my head, a very small movement, hoping he understood my silent communication: I had no idea why Quinn chose that moment to mention my idea about billing changes or why or when he’d one hundred percent decided that Cypher Systems was going to commit to the new software.

I
did know that Olivia was also watching me; the daggers she was throwing with her glare were difficult to overlook, even in my peripheral vision. Instead of focus my attention on her knife wielding propensities or Quinn’s continuing recitation of the deal’s details or Steven’s sideways glances, I stared unseeingly at the two dimensional, top view diagram of the club space within my packet.

It was such a small thing
, the new billing technique. It really was such a small thing. I doubted Mr. Northumberland or any of the lackeys presently really cared about line item detail on billing invoices.

But why had he done it?
Why had Quinn even brought it up?

It was nothing. It meant nothing. Stop obsessing about it.

My eyes followed the lines of the AutoCAD derived blue print. I distracted myself by studying the digitally rendered topical design and comparing it to the tour we’d taken of the space earlier. This, as it turned out, was a very effective distraction.

I frowned, blinked, rechecked my examination. My frown deepened.

The schematic in the packet did not match the actual size, layout, or features of the club we’d toured that morning. 

I must have sighed loudly or made some other overt outward sign of displeasure because the room b
ecame quiet; somewhere to the right a throat was cleared. I glanced up. Everyone was looking at me, including Quinn.

“
Ms. Morris…” Quinn was very Mr. Sullivan in his expression and tone, “Is there something you wish to add?”

I looked from Quinn to Carlos to Steven to Allen- or Alex or Andrew
or whatever his parents had named him that was so forgettable- to the client, Mr. Northumberland. I was on a precipice. It was my first client meeting, I was the most junior member of the team, I didn’t even know if I deserved the job or if my zebra print stilettos had been the deciding factor. I should have smiled politely and apologized or coughed wildly to try to cover up the unintended sound. I could also feign Tourette syndrome.

Or, I could publically announce that all the team’s cost estimates had been based on a grossly inaccurate rendering of the space due to an oversight or
, more alarming, potentially purposeful deception by the client.

Well… what do I have to lose? 

I licked my lips then placed my hands, folded, on the table; “Yes. I do. Before we move beyond the AutoCAD rendering I wanted to clarify why the space we toured this morning doesn’t match the plans sent by the casino last month, included here in our packet. We based all our cost estimates on the AutoCAD rendering.”

There was a slight pause, th
e group apparently absorbing this information for a moment, before all eyes swung to the nephew- AllenAlexAndrewAiden. I followed their stares.

He looked decidedly… uncomfortable.
The man’s eyes bounced around the conference room then settled on Mr. Northumberland’s before he issued a small, nervous sounding laugh; “The differences are minor, really. It’s basically the same.”

I frowned severely as several sets of eyeballs ricocheted back to me
but I focused my attention on the nephew, “I must respectfully disagree. Some examples: there are two partitions- non weight baring walls- which are not present on the digital design rendering; the current space has west facing windows and an outside patio while the design depicts no windows and no patio; additionally, the square footage of the actual space is at least eleven hundred feet larger-” I shifted my gaze to Quinn’s as I added, “not including the patio.”

I couldn’t read Quinn’s expression which may have been more due to my current unrest
regarding all topics McHotpants rather than any surreptitious attempts on his side. I did comprehend that his stare was neither hostile nor warm; in fairness, I could only describe it as attentive.

The nephew moved from side to side in his seat as though he couldn’t get comfortable, “That’s absurd. Clearly you can’t read architectural schematics-”

“Actually…” Quinn paused, pulling his eyes from mine and addressing Mr. Northumberland, who, for the first time since the meeting began, hadn’t felt the need to interrupt. “Actually, Ms. Morris is very familiar with such schematics as she graduated summa cum laude from Iowa State University with a dual major in Architecture and mathematics. You see, Iowa State is one of the top schools in the nation for Architecture.”

I flinched
, just a little, barely perceptible to anyone who may have been watching me, when Quinn recited my qualifications; I was not aware that he was so acquainted with my academic credentials. It made me wonder what else he knew about me and how he came to be such an expert.

Mr. Northumberland’s expression of surprise
boiled into sudden impatience; to my relief this thunderous glare was directed at his nephew; “Allen, this is entirely unacceptable- if this causes another delay in-”

Quinn smoothly interrupted, “Mr. Northumberland, we can modify our implementation strategy and meet the deadline if time is the issue
here. However, the cost…” Quinn sighed, closed the packet of papers in front of him and leaned back in his chair, “I cannot guarantee that the cost of the project will not be impacted.”

Without any overtures
or pretense, the client leaned forward and pointed a finger at Quinn, “If you can meet the deadline you can have triple your original budget.” Then his black glare moved to his nephew, “I can’t have any further delays.”

Quinn nodded once then abruptly stood; I watched his long fingers button the top button of his suit jacket, “In that case
, we’re finished for today. I see no further need for pretense and discussion; what’s important now is getting started.”

Northumberland stood as well, almost eagerly. His entourage also stood; they
reminded me of synchronized swimmers, only in business suits. Their boss said, “Good man. I couldn’t agree more.” he reached across the table and shook Quinn’s hand. “You have an impressive team.”

I caught Steven giving me a meaningful look and I returned it with a raised eyebrow and a shrug of nonchalance even though inwardly I was breathing a ragged
, yet guarded, sigh of relief.

I’d taken a chance. I only hoped it would be enough to prove that I was worthy of keeping
my job.

~*~

Carlos and Quinn disappeared together directly after the meeting adjourned and I begged off dinner with Steven, claiming a headache. Of course, Steven still threatened to keep his promise of a sleepover. I was non-committal and laughed at his good natured teasing but I didn’t feel like company, I felt like stewing in my room, alone, with a bottle of wine and a hamburger and HBO.

Before I ran off Steven reminded me that our meetings for the following day had been canceled
and that the plane would now be departing at 3:00 pm. He suggested we meet up during the day and try to see a little of Vegas before leaving. I was, again, noncommittal. I kind of felt like a jerk.

I did have a headache. I had a cornucopia of confusion to sort through. I needed to figure out what I needed
, what I wanted, and what was right and where they all intersected.

W
hat I needed was to keep my distance from male humans- i.e. Jon and Quinn- keep my job, and reorganize my life so that calm and order were restored.

What I wanted was to
throw myself at Quinn and continue behaving like an infatuated teenager.

And I didn’t know what was right.

When room service arrived I took the bottle of wine into the bathroom and had a bubble bath. The hotel tub was nowhere near the awe-inspiring spectacularness of the apartment tub Quinn showed me last Sunday, when we toured the company’s new apartment space in the high-rise by the park, but it was perfectly adequate for my current needs.