Total pages in book: 135
Estimated words: 139088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 139088 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 695(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 464(@300wpm)
“Does she quote it to all of you?”
“Rarely. But she lays it out for Shirleen on the regular.”
The elevator came.
We got in.
The doors were closing when I noted, “Maybe Mace should have a word.”
“She’s been with Mace for ages. He’s immune. I get it. She runs a tight ship. It’s the kind of thing where she puts the coffee in his hand before he even knows he wants it and his and Stella’s dry cleaning is delivered before he knows she sent someone to pick it up. We want a Post-it notepad, they’re there to be had. Tasers always charged. Plenty of ammo in the gun closet.”
Yikes.
“But…yeah,” he went on. “She’s used to free-reign tyranny in running the ship, whereas Shirleen ran hers like she was a cruise director, but she was on vacation on that cruise. This clash in management style, unless one of them caves, and Shirleen is never gonna cave, Marjorie probably isn’t either, is only going to get worse.”
The doors opened and we walked out.
We were still holding hands.
And I was digging that.
“Is there some way to make it so they can both be who they are and it’s copasetic?” I inquired.
“I’m not a manager. I hope to fuck I never become a manager. I take lead on cases, I take lead on teams, and I’m good at that, I like doing it. Management, fuck no. So I have no clue.”
We got in my car. I started her up and realized I didn’t get validation.
“Shit, I didn’t get my ticket validated.”
He leaned forward and pulled out his wallet.
“Just press this to the reader,” he said, handing me a blank, white, credit-card-sized, well…card.
I took it.
It worked.
I handed it back, and we headed on our way.
“We need to get you women those,” he muttered.
They did, so no need to confirm.
“Tito and Tex are opposites. And they work,” I pointed out.
“Tito would wash a leper’s feet and listen to a serial killer’s confession before he was executed. Tito makes room, he doesn’t take room. Marjorie nor Shirleen are that.”
I loved that description of Tito, because it was apt.
“Either Shirleen is going to have to buckle to Marjorie’s rules, or Marjorie is going to have to start taking valium. My guess, neither are going to happen,” Knox continued.
“I don’t like that for either of them,” I complained. “I mean, yeah, I get there needs to be rules. Though someone quoting them verbatim to me all the time would suck. And yeah, I think a workplace should have at least a hint of a relaxed atmosphere, flexibility and camaraderie, even if the work done is serious. I just don’t know how you have two managers at opposite extremes working in the same office.”
“Tell me about it.”
I might need to chat with Tito about this. He might have ideas.
“Do you want to be a manager?” Knox asked, and he sounded more than mildly curious.
I glanced at him. “Sorry?”
“You do you. You know I love you. I don’t give a fuck what you do to make money. Just asking.”
Ah.
“I will never, ever have a job where there’s any significant level of responsibility,” I declared. “Every job I work, when it’s done, I’ll be able to leave it there, go home and live my life. Do I like stuff? Yes. Am I up to work for it? Yes? Do I want a yacht? No. No shade on Raye, who digs that shit, and definitely no shade on those Tom Ford shoes you bought me, which are the shit, but I can take or leave designer stuff. I want my dog to be fed. Me to be fed. A roof over our heads. A car that runs. And cute clothes to wear. The occasional treat yo’self day works, and if there’s a biggie in there money-wise, I’d like to travel more. Other than that…I’m good.”
He didn’t say anything.
I got worried.
Therefore, I shot him another glance and asked, “Does that turn you off?”
“It’s the same for me, in a way. In other words, you wanna do what you like doing. You don’t wanna put up with shit you don’t wanna put up with. I love my job. I’m fortunate it pays well so I’m gonna be able to take my woman on trips to places she wants to go. Other than that, I’m good.”
I smiled huge at the windshield. “We are so good together.”
He took my hand, kissed it, rested it on his thigh and replied, “We so are.”
So that was that.
And now I had to ask.
“Anything about your mom?”
“Byron’s at it. Brody’s back at it. And Byron has confirmed that it is very rare, and suspicious, that running his preliminary programs didn’t produce anything on a woman who used to be a stay-at-home mom.”
Dang.
“How are you with that?”
“At first, tweaked. Since then, no reason to be anything, until we learn more.”