“You love making me suffer, don’t you
?
”
“You make it way too easy.”
“The Rack will be fun. You could let loose for a change. Whatever you’re going back for can wait.”
“Looks like you’re going to have plenty of fun without me.”
“Don’t you want to see all your old pals
?
”
“Yeah, but I want to keep my job more.” She raised a hand to her forehead in a mock salute. “I’ve got bugs up to here and I’m running out of time. Even working seven days a week I don’t think we’ll be ready for go-live.”
Gregg took a half step toward the office. “I am your number one beta user. We could talk systems stuff if that would make you feel better. You know how much I love veggie pizza.”
For a second
Eric
a thought he was going to invite himself upstairs, and for a second she thought she wanted him to. He waited then took one tentative step back and then another. The girls behind him released a collective sigh.
“Sbarro’s only two blocks from The Rack,” she said.
Gregg wished her well, turned, and joined the group waiting for him near the corner.
Eric
a crossed the dark street and made her way up to her office. She found herself staring at the whiteboard holding a half-eaten slice of pizza, not quite seeing the neat handwritten tasks. She’d never been the life of the party, but before joining Brad’s team she wouldn’t have passed up an invitation to shoot pool and listen to a new band with her friends. The career she’d chosen left room for little else. Trading security for a bit of fun had never bothered her before. This was the first time she’d noticed. She shuddered, feeling a bit like she’d noticed a huge stain on the back of her outfit after wearing it all day. This was more than a day’s outfit; this was her life. She felt small sitting alone in the office.
Alert and back in the moment,
Eric
a faced the identical laptops on her desk. With only eight days to go, the bug list was longer than ever and the testers kept finding new problems faster than her team could fix them.
Eric
a worked her way down the list of completed items. She read through each problem report then connected into the test system and verified that the fix solved the problem completely. Checking everyone’s work was monotonous, but she couldn’t count on the QA person Brad assigned. Like many things on the project,
Eric
a was doing this herself. She wasn’t neurotic. It was the pressure, Brad’s needless pressure and his fantasy that she could finish on time with half the resources identified in the initial project plan. She was project manager, lead developer, and quality assurance department all in one. That left little time for anything outside work except a couple hours sleep and a commute that was more about hygiene than spending time at home.
Heavy footsteps sounded in the hall shortly after
nine o’clock
. They stopped outside
Eric
a’s door as Brad leaned a muscled shoulder against her door casing. There was only one person who came to her office this late. She knew it was Brad before she looked up and saw the fiendish look on his face. He had a way of studying her with a smile lurking beneath the surface, a grin he couldn’t let loose until he was out of view. His torment was intentional, but why her
?
She was driving his biggest project. If she quit or if she failed, he was in deep. Maybe he hated strong women. She posed little professional threat since he was Marty’s brother-in-law. No employee was going to supersede him. His cruelty made no sense unless it was purely for sport. He was the perverse type and she wouldn’t put it past him.
“I’ve got bad news for you,” he said.
“It can’t be worse than this bug list.”
“Actually it can. I’ve reassigned Jenkins to the attribution project starting tomorrow.”
Eric
a’s face went slack in disbelief. “You can’t do that. Tomorrow’s Saturday. My whole team’s coming in.” She’d worked hours shuffling the workload so they could meet the deadline. Without Jenkins it was hopeless.
“He’ll be here, but he’ll be working on attribution.”
“How can you do that
?
What are you trying to do to me
?
”
“I had no choice. The PMs are screaming. This business is driven by the investment team not client services.”
“This isn’t some diddley project. This is mission critical. We’re revamping the way everyone looks at our investment history not just client services. There’s no way I can bring this in on time without Jenkins.”
“Don’t preach to me,
Eric
a. I know how important every project is. What you fail to recognize on the other hand, is that there is other work going on here. It’s all interrelated and the schedule is set. If you can’t handle this, I’ll bring in Devlin to manage and you can go back to coding.”
“You can’t do that!”
“Nothing personal. We’re all tightening our belts. You’ve got to slog through one more week. I can’t push the schedule. Marty won’t have it. If you need Devlin’s help, I’ll get him on board Monday, just let me know.”
“No thanks.”
Brad turned and disappeared. Just like him to let her work on a project eighteen months and then try to give it to someone else when it was time to hand out the credit.
Fuming, too angry to think about anything seriously except doing Brad bodily harm,
Eric
a got up and paced around her office. Her eyes darted around her workspace, finally settling on the pages Gregg left with her. She laughed at them as if Gregg could hear then placed them on top of a pile where she could see them. No time for them in the next two weeks. No one else was going to have time for them either, but this might be the sword she could use to take a swipe at Brad. Gregg was going to have to fend off Mr. Johnson for awhile and there was nothing she could do about that. When things slowed down, she’d dig deep. If Brad had ignored a serious problem, she’d uncover every detail and she’d tell anyone who’d listen. Even Marty cared about the customers. They supported his lavish lifestyle after all.
Eric
a noticed the ever-blinking red light on her phone, clicked on the speaker and logged-in to check her voicemail. Half-listening, she angrily punched the delete button on the first six messages before any of them finished playing.
Impossible. She was never going to finish on time.
The next voice was Simon’s, “
Eric
a, hey, where have you been
?
Dating is supposed to be a two person endeavor. A contact sport if it’s done right. I can’t get you anywhere. Call me.”
Eric
a deleted a few more messages.
Her mother’s voice came next, “
Eric
a, I haven’t heard from you in a few weeks. Wanted to make sure everything’s ok. Call me. I miss you.”
Delete. Delete. Delete.
A young woman’s voice played from the speaker, “
Eric
a, Kate. Eisenstein was ripped you blew it off again. He went postal about those students who never show up for class and think they’ll pass – meaning you. He says that doesn’t play in graduate school. Better come next Wednesday. See ya.”
Simon’s voice returned, angrier than before, “
Eric
a, this is ridiculous. Call me.” She wondered how long it had been since they talked.
Eric
a laid her head on the desk and closed her eyes.
“One o’ five
Marlborough
.”
“One o’ five Marlborough, Mam.”
A blurry close-up of stitched blue vinyl appeared through
Eric
a’s sore eyes. She pushed herself up. The windows of the cab were dark, the streetlights too pale for her to recognize her own block. She knew better than to let her guard down in public, especially at night in the city. Here she was in the car with a complete stranger, asleep, with no idea where she was. He could have driven her anywhere. She cursed herself for nodding off. She knew first hand what could happen and that knowledge kept her ever vigilant. She could take three guys like this scrawny cab driver, but her self defense training was worthless when she was asleep. Fortunately, she wouldn’t need her training tonight.
She poked a ten through the plexiglass and rambled into the lobby and up the stairs. Her body steered its own way home, her eyes so heavy she could barely see. She pushed the key in the lock, jammed her shoulder against the door, and stumbled inside when it jerked out of her way. The stark lights jarred her to a stop. Every one of them was on and she felt every watt through her thin eyelids. The blow dryer whined loudly in the bathroom. The light and the noise blocked her advance and she wanted to lay down right there on the carpet. Eyes closed, she marched zombie-like to the hall, her shoulder rubbing the wallpaper when she reached it, guiding her, keeping her upright.
One cracked eye spied Melanie pulling a fat round brush with one hand and waving the dryer with the other. The hair on one side hung down straight, the other waved with curls that would only become more pronounced if allowed to dry. Nine on Saturday night, Melanie was going out.
Eric
a wouldn’t last another five minutes.
Eric
a stumbled on, but Melanie’s voice pulled her back, forcing her to remain standing longer than she thought possible. Her joints longed to sprawl out beneath the sheets. The dryer thankfully ceased.
“Where’ve you been
?
” Melanie asked.
“Work,”
Eric
a said leaning against the wall for support.
“Let me get this straight. You worked all day Friday, Friday night and Saturday, a day most people take off, and you’re just getting home at
nine o’clock
. No wonder you look like Hell.”
“Thanks, you too.”
“But I’ll be glamorous in five minutes.”
“You get to it, I’ve got to crash.”
The voice followed her, but the words were too garbled to discern. At least the blow dryer was quiet. With luck she’d be asleep before it started again. Finally through the door and into the dark, her sneakers hit the floor, her jeans dropped in a lump beside the bed, her bra lofted toward the chair. She was beneath the chilly sheets, eyes blissfully closed. Even her thoughts were too tired to stir.
Eric
a didn’t bother to open her eyes when Melanie’s voice came from the doorway. The sliver of light she let in fell harmlessly on the comforter that covered her shoulder.
“Simon came by today.”
“Was he mad
?
” she mumbled from under the blankets.
“Beyond mad. He didn’t even ask for you.”
“What’d he want
?
”