My Crazy Hot Interstellar Affair

6. Buggy Computer in Accounting Takes Things Too Far

The job ended up starting the following day. Apparently, the IRS had an agent coming in at eleven to discuss the prior year's tax return. The quick start date, while financially beneficial, left no time to tell Sterling about the deal Andie had struck with The Star Enquirer. She knew she should call Sterling, but lingering in the back of Andie's brain was a tiny germ of doubt about whether Sterling would think the plan was at all brilliant.

There was plenty of time to tell Sterling. Andie needed to wait for the right moment, which meant in a public place after several cocktails. Maybe wearing protective body armor.

Mr. Lieder had an important meeting, so the task of delivering Andie to Accounting was left to Talia.

Talia jabbed the down button repeatedly. "Damn elevator."

It had only been ten seconds.

"Finally," Talia huffed as the elevator arrived and the doors slid open. They entered. Talia pressed LL.

Figured that the accounting department was underground. Companies liked to hide Accounting as if it were a toe fungus or a drunk relative. "I'm sure I can find it myself," said Andie.

"Much as I would love to do that, Oliver asked me to escort you, and I do not want to disobey his order."

"You make him sound bossy."

"He is bossy. He is, after all, the boss. Must I explain this to you?"

The tiny elevator could barely contain Andie, Talia, and Talia's colossal disdain. Even in the dim light, Talia's black hair gleamed. Andie wondered what it would feel like to pull it out, strand by strand. The elevator dinged, and the doors opened to a long, poorly lit corridor.

"Why is it so dark? And dingy? And cold?"

"It is the dungeon," said Talia, shaking her head. Her stilettos clicked on the bare concrete. There was a mechanical hum permeating the corridor which smelled like WD-40.

"Dungeon? You mean Lower Level?"

"No, I mean dungeon. Everyone calls it that."

"Why? Do you torture people down here?"

"Something like that."

Andie folded her arms across her chest and rubbed her shoulders to keep warm.

They passed a gleaming stainless-steel door, more like something you'd find on a spaceship than in an office. It had a foreboding quality—too large for the space and no handle or other visible means of entry. The hum seemed to emanate from the door. "What's that sound? What's behind the door?"

"Nothing that concerns you." Talia continued walking, Andie close behind, until they stood in front of another, more normal door. "Here is Accounting." Talia said the word "Accounting" as if she'd eaten a horseradish-coated lemon.

"Oh, come on," said Andie. "Why can't you tell me what's behind the freaky door? I work here now."

"You do not have the proper security clearance."

"Is that where you torture the puppies and small children?"

"Forget about the door, and no one will get hurt."

"Are you threatening me?"

"Yes. Look, stay away from the door and stay away from my fiancé, and I will not be forced to fry you with my ray gun."

"Fiancé?"

"Interesting, that concerns you most about my warning. But yes, Oliver is my fiancé, so hands-off."