Page 12 of Mile High Contract
Jeff nods. “Yes, for sure. Fulltime and they’d stay busy. I can show you everything if you’d like.” He lifts his electronic tablet.
“Sure,” I reply.
He taps a few buttons and prattles on about all the work that is behind, and is essentially costing me money, and once he’s done with his ten-minute demonstration, he’s got me convinced.
“Okay, you’ve sold me. I’ll look for someone right away.”
“Maybe hit up the colleges for a recent graduate. They’re easier to mold and train than someone seasoned. And also cheaper to pay.” He chuckles and adjusts his tie.
I smile. “You’re a genius, Jeff. Is there anything else?”
He clears his throat. “Uh yeah, Lars wants to know if there’s a company picnic this year.”
Chuckling, I look at the young man, whose cheeks are turning pink. “You would.”
“My kids look forward to it,” he says softly.
Lars is barely thirty and has four kids and a wife who homeschools the oldest two.
I look at Briana. “How’s that coming along?”
She throws me a brief look, as if I don’t work her hard enough, and then plasters on a tight smile. “I’ll be sending out an email shortly about it.”
Lars’s face lights up and I resist a chuckle. “There you go, man. It’s happening.” I look at the rest of my quiet IT team. “I’ll get HR to start looking for another employee to add to our team and keep you updated. Cool?” I slide my hands into the pockets of my dress pants.
Jeff stands the rest follow. “Yes, thanks, sir.”
“Stop calling me sir,” I say to him with a chuckle.
They leave my office and I look at Briana.
Before I can open my mouth, she holds up a hand. “Ask Lisa in HR to contact the colleges for an IT intern. Got it.”
I shake my head. “No interns. I need a real employee.”
“Okay then.” She disappears behind the door and shuts it behind her.
I lean back in my chair and tap a pen against the back of my neck as I stare at Eric’s email again. He’s right. I’m an asshole. I think back to the graveside funeral and how heartbroken Taryn looked. I wanted to go to her, grab her into my arms, and comfort her. To tell her how sorry I was and how much her mom was loved. But I didn’t. I’d stayed back in the shadows of the trees on that cloudy March Sunday.
My desk phone rings. I used to have Briana screen all my calls but it got to be too much for her. I’m perfectly capable of answering the phone and getting rid of anyone I don’t want to talk to.
“Carter Lockwood,” I answer.
“Carter. Jim Shaffer, how are you?”
“Good, good,” I reply. “What’s going on?”
Jim owns a company that runs a mobile sex club. He disguises it under a corporation that runs a chain of nightclubs in the area. I’m the one who created the app his secret clientele uses to get info on the club’s monthly location, to the tune of $1,500 a year to access it. The details change monthly, so I already know why Jim’s calling.
“Just got the monthly update for you. Got a pen handy?”
I chuckle. He always asks me that. He never puts this stuff in writing—text, email, or otherwise, it’s always desk phone-to-desk phone conversations.
“Date, April 29. Nine p.m. to four a.m. Location, 1880 Square Tap Road, Centennial. Five rooms, hetero workers only this time. Password: Lovetap, one word.”
I jotted it all down. “Got it. Anything else?”
“No, I think that’s it. You gonna swing by?” he asks in reference to the club.