On Tour (23 page)

"That's the third time you've come back from break late, Crystal."

Crystal rolled her eyes. "I had a call to make." She clocked in.

This was so not my scene. Clock watcher. Disciplinarian. Yuck. "Ladies, if you want to stay on this assignment, you'll be back to work on time."

Four sets of eyes turned to me. Heads cocked, hands went to hips, attitudes were at full charge. "Who you?" said one girl, looking at my suit.

"I'm Diana, the on-site supervisor for Greene's Staffing." I stood up straight, using my height to my advantage.

The girl looked up at me and sneered. "That so?"

Another girl with large hoop earrings said, "No, you're not. I recognize you!"

I shook my head. This couldn't be good.

"Yeah," Crystal said, looking me up and down. "You're that pirate singer. I knew you looked familiar."

Mary Lou peered over at me. "You a pirate?"

"No," I ground out, "I'm not a pirate."

"But you are that singer, right?" Crystal asked.

I nodded. The girls laughed and clocked in. A few asked me where my hat was. One wanted to know if I was Carlos' girlfriend. I had just lost all credibility.

I watched the girls walk away. Mary Lou turned to me. "I really don't like pirates, Deena. I'd prefer it if you keep that sorta thing at home."

"Aye, aye," I replied.

*  *  *

As agreed, I'd called Mark on my way out of the plant. Since my car was in a guarded parking lot all day, he hadn't felt it necessary to escort me home. I have to admit that I glanced over my shoulder a couple of times and checked the backseat before getting in. I couldn't shake the feeling that danger was lurking just around the corner.  Mark had dinner on the table and a martini waiting for me when I walked in the door at six. There had been three no-shows on second shift, and Carol and I had scrambled to find replacements. I had started to worry that I'd be spending the evening packing tampons.

I threw my briefcase on the floor, kicked off my shoes, and sank onto the couch. Max put his nose on my lap and looked up at me with sympathetic eyes. "That's not going to get you a treat." His ears perked up, then drooped at the stern look on my face.

"Wow, thought I was going to have to take dinner to you. You are one hard-working woman." Mark leaned down to give me a kiss. Then he stopped and sniffed. "What's that smell?" He wrinkled his nose.

"I don't know." I sniffed my sleeve. "I don't smell anything."

Mark sniffed again. "It's kinda sickly sweet."

I groaned, covering my face. "It's deodorant tampon. I smell like tampons!"

Mark started laughing.

I jumped up. "It's not funny. Ugh! I'm taking a bath." I grabbed my martini glass.

As I sat in the steaming tub, sipping my ice cold martini, I reflected on my day. It hadn't been pretty, but I was determined to get this project on stable ground. I just had to make it through the next month or so. I closed my eyes. It had to get better.

Mark was apologetic when I emerged from the bathroom. He kissed me and made no comment about my smell. Which probably meant I still had an odor.

"I am so proud of you of for putting so much effort into this." He piled my plate full of takeout from Gio's Italian Restaurant.

I took a sip of iced tea. Couldn't afford to be groggy tomorrow. Had to be up at the ass crack of dawn to play time clock monitor.

"So tell me about your day," he said between bites.

"You don't really want to know. They hate me. The supervisors hate me; the temps hate me. It's awful." I felt ready to burst into tears.

Mark patted my hand. "It's the first day. It'll get better."

I shook my head. "We are inches away from losing this contract, and Carol had no idea. She's been completely buried with only Tabitha to help her while I was off on tour. I feel like such a bad business partner." I sighed. "So how about your day? Any news from Florida?"

"I checked in with the lead investigator. He floated the idea with the Organized Crime Task force, but nothing yet. Sal Bonanno had no comment. So we'll go with no news is good news for now." Mark sighed and leaned over and kissed my forehead. "Why don't you go spend some time with your guitar, and I'll take Max for a walk? When I get back, I'll give you a massage."

Mark's massages were really just foreplay, but that sounded okay to me. Anything to forget this day.

My phone rang just as I was taking my guitar from its case. It was Carol. "Okay, I'm hyperventilating here," she said.

"What's wrong?"

"I just got a call from the secretary of the new plant president, Jeff Johnson. She's asked us to meet with Mr. Johnson and his executive staff to discuss the transition challenges."

"Isn't it kind of late for her to call?"

"Of course it's too late," Carol cried. "There must be a really big problem."

"What time?" I asked with my head in my hand.

"Nine," she replied, adding, "Oh, Diana, this isn't good. This was his idea, and we're making him look bad."

"But I just got on site today. They've got to give us time."

"But it's been a month. I should've hired someone right from the start." Carol's voice had lost its usual cool.

"I've made some progress today," I said. "I have some other ideas that should really help with attendance and retention. We'll just lay the plan out for him."

"Really?" Carol asked. "You think we still have a chance?"

"Of course," I replied. "Stop worrying. Don't you have a date coming up with that singer we met?"

Temporarily distracted, Carol replied, "I'm not sure it's a date. I'm supposed to go see him play out tonight. But with all this going on, I'm not sure I should."

"Don't be crazy," I replied. "There's nothing more for you to do tonight. Just relax and enjoy yourself."

She seemed relieved to get the green light for her date. I didn't feel quite as confident as I sounded, but I wanted Carol to enjoy herself. I promised to call her after all the temps got in the next morning.

I put my guitar away. No way could I sit here plucking strings when I had to face the plant president tomorrow. I needed to come up with a plan, maybe even a presentation. Although I'd been a full-time musician for years, I had an undergrad in Economics. I'd also worked enough corporate temp jobs to know that I needed to wow them tomorrow. I wasn't sure where to start, but I knew someone who did.

I heard Mark returning from walking Max. I went out into the living room. "All done?" He looked surprised.

"Nope," I said.

"Ready for that massage?" He wiggled his eyebrows at me.

I shook my head. "Raincheck? I want to take advantage of our new living arrangement."

"I'm all yours," he teased, opening his arms.

"Unfortunately, all I need tonight is your brain." Here I was living with the master of organization and planning. From real estate deals to military maneuvers, Mark had been facing these types of meetings throughout his career.

He raised his brows. "Just my brain? That doesn't sound fun."

"Think of it as taking our relationship to new levels."

"I know I'm going to regret asking, but what'd you have in mind?"

The next morning, I waved to Harold as I passed the guard shack. He tipped his hat to me and leaned out the door.

"I see you came back," he called.

"Was there ever any doubt?" I asked with a confused smile.

"Not for me, but there was a pool going 'round that we'd never see you again." He smiled widely. "I just made beer money."

"Thanks for betting on me," I said, not sure how else to respond.

He waved his hand. "Don't mention it. I told the boys you were made of tough stuff under all that fluff."

"No more fluff. I have sensible shoes today." I wiggled my foot at him.

He gave me a thumbs-up. "See," he said, like he was talking to a child, "there you go. Good job."

I took the back-handed compliment at face value. I continued into the building, feeling better about the day. I headed straight to the manufacturing department. The door to Chuck's office was open. He looked up from his desk.

"Damn, I just lost ten bucks."

"You were in the betting pool?" I asked.

He looked a little uncomfortable. "We've had an informal pool going around here for years. We bet on all kinds of things," he explained.

"Didn't think I'd last a day, huh?"

"Nope. What're you doing here so early?" he asked, with a glance at clock.

"Keeping an eye on the stragglers," I replied. "How'd those two guys work out for you last night?"

"No notes from the night supervisor, so they must've done okay." He added, "Nice shoes."

"Thanks." I left his office with a spring in my step. My day was starting off great.

A guy on a motorized cart whizzed by me and then stopped and backed up. Beep, Beep, Beep.

"You that girl from the temp service? Deena, right?" He nodded at me. He was wearing navy blue work coveralls, a baseball hat, and had a wad of chew tucked in his lower lip. "I'm Tim Dillion, but my friends call me Buck."

"Hi Buck," I said. "It's Diana." I put out my hand, and he shook it.

"Where ya headed?" he asked.

"To the Rework Dept." I pointed down the long aisle towards the back of the warehouse.

"Hop on," he said indicating the padded, backward-facing seat behind him. "I'll give you a lift over there."

"Oh, are you sure it's okay?" I asked.

"'Course it's okay. I'm the lead mechanic. Been here twenty-seven years. They don't give these carts out to just anyone." He spit chew into a paper cup and returned it to the cup holder.

"Okay, sure. Thanks so much, Buck." I didn't want to offend him, and it would save time.

"Don't mention it," he said. "Feel like I owe you, anyway."

I settled myself in the seat behind him. Turning, I asked, "You bet against me in the pool, didn't you?"

"Yep," he said as he put the cart into gear.

Mary Lou was waiting for me at the time clock. As soon as she saw me, she rushed into her office. The department team leader, Peg, peeked her head out the door.

I thanked Buck for the ride and walked over to the office.

"You're back, Deena! Didn't I tell you she'd be back, Peg?" Mary Lou smiled and nodded.

"Were you in the betting pool, too?" I asked.

Peg crossed herself. Mary Lou waved her hands. "That's just for the old men around here. Worse than a bunch of hens."

"And it's the devil's work," Peg said with a grim look. "Gamblin', that is."

Mary Lou nodded and led me back to the time clock. "Now there's a subject to steer clear of with Peg."

"Religious beliefs?" I asked.

"Oh, no. Her husband left her for a girl he met at the casino."

I digested this info while we stood at the time clock. A few minutes later a lady walked by, saying to Mary Lou, "She's at it again." She pointed behind her. A young woman with wet hair was approaching the time clock. Mary Lou eyed her down as she clocked in and walked to her station.

"Now there's one we need to talk about." Her voice was grim.

"Okay, what's going on?" I asked as more temps came up to clock in. I noticed a few of them were part of the group that had come back late from lunch yesterday.

"Not here," she said, adding in a whisper, "too delicate."

Now I was intrigued. What could be too delicate for Mary Lou to discuss in public?

When the last temp had clocked in, Mary Lou led me back to her office and offered me a cup of coffee.

I accepted and took a big swig. "Hmmm, this hits the spot." I smacked my lips and smiled on the outside. On the inside I was gagging. It was the strongest coffee I'd ever tasted.

"Best hold on tight to that cup of coffee," Peg said.

"Why's that?"

"'Cause if you don't, it'll walk away, strong as it is."

Mary Lou hushed her, but I was inclined to agree. "We got serious business to discuss, Peg. That Lisa girl showed up with wet hair again. Jennifer said she was at it again."

Peg clucked her mouth and shook her head. "Ain't that a shame."

"So what's the problem?" I asked.

"Well, Deena, we're pretty sure Lisa's been warshin' her hair in the hopper."

I blinked a couple of times. "In the what?" I couldn't have heard her correctly.

"The hopper," Mary Lou said with a nod. Peg nodded as well.

"You think she's washing her hair in the toilet? Here? Why would you think that?" Maybe smelling deodorant tampons for thirty years had addled their brains.

"Well, she gets here, and her hair is dry. She goes in the bathroom and when she comes out it's wet."

"But—" I began.

Mary Lou cut in. "I know. You're going to say she must be usin' the sink. Come on." She waved for me to follow her.

She led me off the plant floor down a cement block hallway. On both sides of the hallway were restroom signs. We went into the one marked "Ladies."

"See," Mary Lou said pointing to the row of sinks. "She couldn't get her head under that faucet, no how. Show her Peg." Mary Lou and I watched as Peg tried to put her head into the sink and turn on the water. The basin was too shallow and the faucet to close to allow more than a hand-width beneath it.

"Okay, I can see she couldn't fit her head under the faucet, but maybe she scooped up water and put it on her head," I reasoned.

Mary Lou and Peg shook their heads in unison.

"I've had a couple full-timer gals I trust tell me she came out of the hopper with drippin' wet hair." Mary Lou was adamant. "Deena, you need to have a hygiene talk with that gal. Tell her how it's not sanitary to warsh her hair in the hopper."

Peg nodded approvingly.

"Okay," I agreed uneasily. I'd have to consult Carol on this one. Geez, the things I ran into on this job.

*  *  *

I was feeling pretty good about the day despite the hair-in-the-hopper incident as I sat at my desk reviewing the notes for my nine o'clock meeting. I still felt jumpy every time I opened a piece of mail or file folder. I kept imagining I'd find anoter crazy scrapbook message. With still no word from Florida, I'd tried to put all thoughts of The Spider out of my mind. Easier said than done. Carol was due at my office any minute. We'd had one no-call no-show and only two temps show up late. Definitely an improvement over yesterday.