Shatterproof (8 page)

I think we did okay until Noah got promoted into a job that required no travel. While he still worked long hours, he had more time on his hands and few hobbies. I encouraged him to hang out with his friends, but his closest pals had just had new babies. So, aside from regular pool sessions with my brothers, Noah spent most of his downtime at the gym or in his man cave. The love letters dwindled, and my guilt grew until I’d sometimes choose not to fly home for a weekend, because the tension would just be wearing off as I was about to leave again.

I saw small cracks appearing in our relationship, but assumed they were shallow, containable, and typical of those any couple would accumulate over six years. It was only after the ambush proposal that I realized the tiny cracks had turned into a network—not unlike what’s happened to my windshield since yesterday.

If I were the superstitious type, I’d be plenty worried right now.

I could have taken the car to the dealership, which is closer to work, but there was something I liked about Vera. Her voice was reassuring, and her eyes twinkled, even when she was giving me a warning.

Today, her silver hair is held back with an elaborate barrette. Turquoise stones dangle from her ear lobes, and a string of matching beads circles her neck, over a simple white T-shirt and fuzzy grey cardigan. She seems like a free spirit. The opposite of square.

The customer before me leaves, and Vera looks up and beckons. “The cracks have spread,” she says.

It’s a statement, not a question. I peer through the window at the Lexus parked out front, and ask, “Someone’s already looked at it?”

She shakes her head. “I could tell from your expression.”

“That’s a hangover,” I say, reaching for the rest of my coffee and swallowing it. “But yeah, there are a few more cracks.”

“What happened?”

“Nothing. I just drove it to work and left it in the parking garage overnight.”

She smiles. “I mean, to give you a hangover on a Tuesday. And Valentine’s Day, at that.”

My eyes widen. In all that’s happened, I’d forgotten Valentine’s Day. I don’t even have a gift for Noah yet. I’ll have to scrounge something up in the mall at lunch hour and hope he’ll accept it.

“Sit.” Vera gestures to a chair to the left of the counter. “Jimmy’ll look at your car while you have another coffee.”  She refills my cup, and waits for me to speak.

My words start slowly, building to an uncharacteristic rush, especially given that the audience is a complete stranger who’s wearing far too much turquoise. I tell her everything, making no excuses for myself.

“If Baxter saw Dylan kiss me, I’m screwed,” I finish. “I wish there was something like Wonder Glass for real life.”

 “I’m more worried about your boyfriend,” Vera says. “He sounds like a great guy.”

“He is, but that proposal in front of my family and friends was emotional blackmail. He was backing me into a corner.”

“People do things like that when they feel powerless in a relationship.”

I stare at her. “He’s not powerless.”

She shrugs. “Sounds to me like you’ve been calling all the shots. And he’s hurt.”

“He’s known how important my career is to me since the very beginning.”

Vera opens her mouth to say something, but stops when a guy in blue coveralls appears in a doorway behind her. She steps back to meet him, and as they chat, I check my e-mail. Nothing. Not even the usual “top priority” list from Reuben. After last night, it must be a slow start for everyone.

Vera turns back to me. “Okay, there’s good news and bad news. Which do you want first?”  She chuckles. “Wait, I know you want the bad news first. You go through life expecting it.”

I scowl at her. “You sound like my brothers. But yeah, hit me.”

“Your tiny chip has turned into a wicked web of cracks. Wonder Glass can only do so much, and there’s a forty per cent chance your windshield is too far gone to be salvaged.”

I sigh. “Why not replace the whole thing straight off?”

“Because sixty per cent is worth a try, no? Do you always give up so easily?”

“It’s just a windshield.”

“It’s more than that,” she says. “I’ll put Jimmy to work on your car right away, but it takes 24 hours to cure. Call me later for an update.”

I get to my feet and she grabs my arm. There are chunky silver rings on every finger, and long nails with deep blue polish. “Not so fast.” Reaching under the counter with her other hand, she sets a small glass vial on the counter. It holds a couple of ounces of clear liquid and is plugged with a dropper.

“Wonder Glass?” I ask.

She gives me a conspiratorial smile. “Special take-out formula. Seals up the cracks in real life.”

“Like magic,” I say, trying not to roll my eyes. Although she seems nice enough, she must be a huckster, preying on the stupid, selfish and lovelorn, like me.

“Yes, magic,” she says. “A drop in the right place really can do wonders. It’s completely non-toxic and safe for both internal and external use. Best hundred bucks you’ll ever spend.”

I shake my head. “I don’t believe in magic. I believe in facing up to my mistakes and trying to fix them.”

“There’s no avoiding accountability completely, but Wonder Glass gives you a short cut.”  She gives my arm a squeeze. “You seem to try hard to do the right thing, Ellie. Why not give yourself a break?”

My breath catches in my throat. I
do
try hard to do the right thing. There just hasn’t been much payoff. “A hundred bucks for hope?” I say.

“For you, hon, seventy-five.”

It’s closing in on 9 when I enter the hive, and the buzz is stronger than ever. Only today, it isn’t comforting at all. In fact, it sounds vaguely threatening.

Sherri isn’t in her seat, so I dump my things and head over to Baxter’s office to confront him directly about what he knows. He’s behind his desk, flipping through a manual.

Waiting.

Even his sky blue tie seems coiled and ready to spring.

“Morning,” I say, perching across from him.

He makes a show of checking his watch. “It’s nearly afternoon for you.”

“Car problems,” I say. “Had to take it into the shop.”

“Isn’t that what fiancés are for?” he asks, with a sly smile.

“I wouldn’t know,” I say. “Are they?”

“On the rocks already? Is that why you were inspecting the tonsils of the new conscript last night?”  His smile grows. “I arrived just in time to see it.”

My heart flutters in my chest like an injured bird. A spotless 13-year record is about to go up in smoke, all because of a careless mistake witnessed by the wrong person.

One person can destroy everything I’ve worked for. Yes, Dylan knows even more than Baxter, and might possibly defend me, but junior consultants have no credibility at NTA. No one will take him seriously for years.     

On the other hand, Backstabber’s word is suspect, too. Reuben knows he undermines me every chance he gets, and although he dismisses it as petty rivalry, his sending me to Ottawa instead of Baxter is a perverse compliment. Reuben trusts me.

So if I could somehow manage to disarm this one nuclear warhead, I might be able to salvage my formerly impeccable reputation.

“Nothing happened, Baxter,” I say. “The kid was drunk and probably did it on a dare. I sent him home with a stern warning. If you want me to report him, I will.”

“It’s not
him
I’m worried about,” Baxter says. “If you’re fraternizing with subordinates, stress must be getting to you. Maybe you should talk to EC.”

EC is Employee Counseling, the team we call in if consultant conditioning starts to wear off. I’ve sent many wayward consultants to EC myself when I sensed they were straying from the path of righteousness. The bright-faced, upbeat EC folk convince fallen consultrons how fortunate they are to be a part of this great hive and send them back refreshed. How they accomplish this is the best-kept secret in the company.

Raising the specter of EC now is a blatant threat.

I stare Baxter straight in the eye. “Isn’t my getting sentenced to the postal project enough for you? You’ll get first dibs on every good project that comes up.”

He stares back at me. “I’m just worried about you, Ellis. Seems like you need some downtime.”

In other words, he won’t be satisfied unless I’m completely out of commission. Because as long as I’m around, I’ll be Reuben’s favorite.

For all the good it’s done me.

The phone rings and Baxter checks call display. “It’s Reuben. Do you mind?”

Dragging heavy feet through the door, I hover within sight at the water cooler. My hand brushes against a lump in the pocket of my suit jacket. I reach inside to touch the vial of Wonder Glass. Looking back at Baxter, I see him gesturing for me to give him five. Taking two cups from the tray beside the water cooler, I fill them with water. Then I surreptitiously pull out the dropper and let a couple of beads of Wonder Glass fall into one cup. I add another drop for good measure.

It’s ridiculous, and I feel like a fool, but I seem to be out of options.

I stroll back into Baxter’s office despite his waved objections and take my seat. To my relief, his attempt to book time with Reuben fails. Hanging up, he glares at me. “Does the concept of privacy escape you?”

“Baxter,” I say. “You seem stressed, too. Are you dehydrated? You look tired.”

He touches his face. “I do?”

“Stop worrying about me and take care of yourself.” I slide the cup of water across the desk. He seizes it and swallows half in one gulp.

I raise my glass to him, and say, “Eight cups a day will keep us young.”     

Baxter chugs the other half, and straightens his tie. “I don’t have time to socialize, Ellis. What did you want to talk to me about?”

Judging by his expression, he can’t remember why I’m here. “Last night’s launch party,” I say.

His Botoxed brow shifts but can’t quite furrow. “I only had one drink, but the night’s a blur. I guess these launch parties are all the same. They’re only fun for the newbies.”

“I hear you,” I say, getting to my feet.

He’s still looking at me, dazed. “You got Ottawa, right?”

“Unfortunately. Any chance you’d take it for me?”

Laughing, he says, “Not in a million years. I’ll hold the fort for you here.”

“You do that,” I say, touching the vial in my pocket.