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About the Author
Copyright © 2010 by Jack Stratton
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Writing Dirty Press writingdirty.com
It started with Jones from accounting. He was called into an office, so routine, and then security came and unplugged his computer. Donna Moore was next, she was some kind of account rep. In a week Baker, Lee and Hernandez were all gone.
They all walked out of that office with same dull numb looks on their face, like they’d seen a ghost.
They took on all of accounting and all of the account reps, cutting roughly a third of their numbers. Though I had some evidence I was safe, you never know.
Katie had been this ever-present force in my office life. Nothing serious, nothing real, just flirting. A passing glance, a little smile, a look that lasted a second too long. We never even really spoke much but she suddenly became my best friend when the trouble started.
She would swing over to my desk when the smokers went out on their breaks. We had the bond of the clean lunged.
I had always noticed her. Tallish, a little broad shouldered and obviously originally from the Midwest. Some of those Midwest girls have a certain build; a little stocky like field hockey players - and they never lose that. She was that type, but with the poise and fashion sense of someone who had lived in Manhattan for a few years. Shoulder length chocolate brown hair that was shiny and smooth, a very expensive cut. She wore designer clothes and had a million shoes. She liked to look good and smell good.
She reminded me of a woman I used to date; a dangerous girl with a temper who was wild in bed and bat shit crazy. Katie had that same streak. She also had this bratty sort of sing-song voice that was both extremely annoying and intensely attractive. There was something about her that brought out that dominant edge in me.
“Jaaaack?” she would drag that ‘a’ out until it almost broke.
“Do you think you could do that thing with this spreadsheet that you do? The girl who used to do it... well... she’s gone. I think her whole department is gone.” the bratty tone was extra sugary when she wanted something.