That Kind of Girl (Fillmore & Greenwich Book 2) (12 page)

Though God knew he wasn't one to judge. He walked into the kitchen and picked up a pen from the floor. He didn't get along with his parents. His dad had always thought he was a "damn pansy" because he was into art and not football.

Not that he was into art any longer.

Look down, my love.

He blinked as he did, shocked that the pen was still in his hand and that his hand had drawn Georgina's face on a napkin forgotten on the counter. Her lips had that charming quirk that made him want to both kiss and strangle her, and her eyes held an imploring vulnerability.

Obviously he was conflating Giselle and Georgina with each other.

No, you're not. I always said your gift isn't art; it's connecting to what's inside a person.

He pushed the drawing aside and raked his hair back. He was done with sculpting. He'd returned that gift.

Silly man.

Maybe. Definitely crazy, he thought as he dropped onto the couch. He rolled over and closed his eyes, seeing Georgina's face in the dark behind his lids.

"Hey, Dana!" Beth said as she walked into the yoga studio.

Dana checked the time. "If you're here for the next class, you're really early."

"I know." Beth flushed a little, fidgeting with the strap of the expensive yoga mat bag slung over her shoulder. "I wanted to get settled in before other people arrived."

Dana shrugged. Some people liked having a particular spot in the room and they flipped out when they didn't get it. Beth hadn't struck her that way, but who knew?

"I almost didn't expect to see you here, what with your newfound riches." Beth's smile was full of excitement for her. "Have you planned out how you're going to spend your money?"

She felt her lips take on the shape of a pout.

"Oh, no." Beth's eyes widened. "That doesn't look good. What happened?"

"They said I was fired before I earned my bonus. They held up my last deal so it was signed after I was officially terminated." Repeating it made her feel the stab in her heart all over again. If she could, she'd take the knife from her heart and stab Scott Cleary in the face.

She winced. That may have been aggressive. He was just doing his job. Besides, his face was too nice to damage. Stabbing him in the gut was better.

Lesson learned. She shook her head. Kevin had sucked, and so did Scott. She was done with sucky men.

"Can they do that?"

She refocused on Beth. "Do what?"

"Refuse to give you your bonus." Beth frowned. "I'm no expert, but I don't think they can do that."

"They just did," she replied, looking glum.

Beth pressed against the counter. "So what are you going to do about it?"

"I thought I'd buy some cheap wine from Trader Joe's and drink myself into oblivion," she joked. Kind of.

Beth shook her head. "No, you're going to go home and looking up California law, and then you're going to call a lawyer. Do you know one?"

Kevin. She had to swallow the bile that rose in her throat before she could answer. "Not really."

"Find one," Beth said firmly. "They're counting on you not fighting back. Most people wouldn't, but you don't seem like most people."

She straightened her back. "Damn skippy, I'm not most people."

"They think they can get away with taking things from us and putting us in a corner. It's time to take back what's ours." Beth's face flushed, and her eyes burned with righteous indignation.

Dana shifted away from her new friend. "This isn't the part where you take up a pitchfork and spur me to help you kill the beast, is it?"

"I'm not going to kill the beast," Beth said. "
You're
killing the beast."

She thought about Scott Cleary. He wasn't the beast as much as he was Harry Potter, and she couldn't kill Harry Potter. Harry Potter was a hero and so adorable.

Scott was less adorable than hot, but that was because he was age appropriate. She'd think the same about Harry if he were twenty-five years older.

She wrinkled her nose. She really did need help.

* * *

The Internet didn't exist only for goat videos and porn, and thank goodness for that.

Dana huddled over her laptop while she did some research, the pen and sticky notes she'd taken from work coming in handy. She'd found a bunch of different laws that she thought might apply.

Beth was so certain that she needed a lawyer, but lawyers were expensive—she knew that from her divorce. She didn't know when she'd have the luxury of another job, and she needed to make sure her pennies stretched for as long as possible.

Her roommate Jeannie stumbled out of her room, wearing boy shorts and a tank top, her hair tangled. "You're up early."

"Actually, I'm up late." She took a sip of the cheap wine she'd bought on the way home from the yoga studio that night. She made a face at its youthful tartness and set the glass down. "Are you going to bed?"

"I'm going to work." Looking at her like she was insane, Jeannie pressed the button on the coffee maker, and it burbled to life. "Have you been drinking all night?"

She tipped the mostly full bottle of wine. "I tried but it didn't work."

"Oo-kay." Jeannie shook her head and strutted toward their bathroom. "I'm taking a shower."

"Sure," she said, returning her attention to her research.

Dana printed everything out, making sure it was all in order with sticky notes in place, and then hopped up from the table. If she got dressed and went downtown, she could ambush Scott Cleary before he knew what hit him.

That thought brought her so much pleasure.

She went to the bathroom and knocked on the door. "Jeannie! I need to shower."

"You can wait till I'm done," came the muffled reply through the door.

She pursed her lips. "Are you going to be long?"

"As long as I want to be."

She sighed. Normally she'd have just gotten dressed and ran off, but she wanted to be
prepared
today. Power suit. No yoga pants.

Jeannie took forever getting ready, but when she finally emerged from the bathroom,
Dana jumped in. She showered, styled her hair, and put on makeup, not because she wanted to impress him but because she was going in for the most important meeting of her life.

Well, she wanted to impress him a little, too. She was a woman—she couldn't help herself.

But she was going to win, too. She knew it.

She put on the one splurge she'd made when she'd started working at WL&W: a Donna Karan suit. When she'd tried it on in the store, she'd felt strong and stylish. It was the sort of suit an ad sales exec would wear to win a multi-billion dollar account.

Or to win her sales incentive back.

She opted for stockings, because they made her feel powerful, and the tallest heels she had. Looking in the mirror, she declared herself ready.

She stepped outside, heading to the bus stop. After two steps, she stopped. Not the bus this morning—she was splurging for a taxi.

Right then, a green-lit taxi came up the street. Taking it as a sign that she was on the right path, she flagged it down and got in. She gave the driver the address, sat back, and tried not to puke with nerves.

She paid the driver and hopped out. Head high, she strode into the building.

Kendra looked up, a wary expression clouding her face when she saw Dana.

Dana smiled reassuringly at her. "It's okay. I'm going to see Scott Cleary. I know the way to legal."

Before Kendra could do anything, Dana sailed right by. She'd exaggerated in saying she knew where to go. She knew where the legal department was, but she didn't know Scott's precise office.

It wouldn't be hard to find. She'd just follow the smell of sulfur.

As it turned out, there was only one office with a light on and someone working inside, and it was him. She took a moment to check him out before descending on him. He wore a dress shirt, no tie, with the collar unbuttoned. His glasses were on straight, and his hair was tidily combed.

Her attention went back to the hollow of his throat. She bet if she burrowed her nose there it'd be warm and smell clean and manly. She wondered if he'd like being kissed there or if he'd be ticklish.

She shook her head. Not her business wondering any of that, despite how watching him made her belly warm up.

Nerves, she told herself. She took a deep breath and stormed in. "Good morning," she said in a strong voice.

He looked up, surprising her with a look of pleasure. "This is unexpected. Are you in the area for an interview?"

She smoothed the front of her jacket. "No, I'm here to collect my bonus."

He shook his head. "I'm sorry, but that's not going to be possible."

"Oh, I think it will be." She took out the documentation that she'd found and laid it all out on his desk.

"What's this?" he said, looking at her closely with a peculiar light in his eyes. He picked it up and began reading through it.

She smiled confidently, waiting for his apology.

After a long moment, he took his glasses off and shook his head. "The law doesn't apply."

"The law always applies."

He shook his head. "Not when you don't earn your incentive. You were fired before you earned it. It clearly states in your contract that you have to be an employee in order to earn it."

She felt herself go pale. "And that's that?"

He stood up and went to a file cabinet to the side of the room. He shuffled through some files before he took one out. Opening it, he took out a small stack of paper and brought it over to her. "This is the contract you signed when you started working here. In section C-12 it states that you acknowledge that you forfeit the proceeds on any sales brought in by you after you're no longer with the company."

She flipped to the section he'd mentioned. She scanned the small print, her stomach sinking even lower. She hadn't known that losing hope felt like drowning. "But California law—"

"Applies unless there's a different employee-employer agreement," he said not unkindly. "I'm sorry. Maybe you should have all your contracts read by a lawyer from now on."

She shoved the contract back at him. "How can you be so hot and yet so douchey at the same time?"

He tipped his head. "You still think I'm hot after all this?"

"But mostly douchey." She glared at him.

"I think you're hot, too," he said as if impervious to her death stare. "If you're wondering."

She lifted her chin. "I wasn't."

"But it's nice to know, right?"

It was, and that made it all even worse. She stomped her foot. "It wasn't supposed to go this way. I wore my power suit."

He nodded sympathetically. "It looks great on you, too."

"Don't be an ass."

"I thought it was nice to compliment a woman," he said.

"Not when you're shooting all her dreams to hell."

He actually looked abashed at that. "I'm sorry. I really wish I could do something. It's not right that they fired you just because you were earning out. They never expected anyone to make it."