Crossing Hathaway Read Online Free Page B

under a cloud-filled sky, I climbed onto the TTC bus and flashed my pass before I plopped down onto the cold seat. The stench of greasy hair, pee, and dirty feet greeted me. Lovely. Did nobody wash before they went out in the morning? Sheesh. Toaster waffles curdled in my stomach and came back to visit a few times.
    Beside me, a tiny, blue-haired woman hunched over a tattered paperback, her thick glasses so close to the page her nose almost touched the book. She grunted and rocked as she read, while I edged away and tried not to let the crazy get to me.
    My pocket vibrated before the bus made it two blocks from my apartment building. “Shit! What now?”
    The old woman turned her bug eyes on me, silent admonishment deepening the wrinkles on her leathery face.
    I tried to keep my face blank, but my cheeks burned and probably shone a nice bright red. Traitorous little bastards.
    The message said : I expected you here by now .
    “Yeah, well, I’m not,” I told the phone. “You don’t start paying me until eight thirty, and it isn’t even seven. Deal with it.” I turned off the phone and returned it to my pocket with everyone on the bus staring at me. I guess I’d turned into the crazy. Knots formed in my stomach. The phone grew heavy. Scenarios trundled through my head, little trains of thought that ploughed through despite my efforts to block them out. What if he tried to call me? What if it was enough for him to fire me if I didn’t answer? Arg! Stupid conscience.
    Grimacing, I turned the phone back on before I crossed arms over my chest. It was going to be a long day.
    An hour later, with Hathaway’s coffee and bag of chocolate biscotti in hand, I swung by the IT office, pushing the door open with my butt.
    “Morning, my young padawans ,” I sang.
    Jeremy leaned back in his chair to gawk at me around his cubicle wall. He wore a toothy grin and a smear of ketchup on his bum chin. “Dude, you’re such a geek.”
    I sighed, cocked my hip out, and jammed my hand down on it. “Let me see what T-shirt you have under your uniform.” My hand made a rolling motion for him to get on with it.
    He looked down, giggled, and unbuttoned his blue HP dress shirt.
    “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” I rolled my eyes and laughed at his getup. “You give up the right to call someone a geek when you show up to work wearing a Star Trek officer’s shirt complete with fake communicator under your dress shirt.”
    Paul’s barking chuckle rumbled from the direction of his cubicle. “Bazinga!”
    We all roared at the Big Bang Theory reference. Sheldon was our hero.
    “I have to get this coffee to Hathaway’s office before he goes medieval on my ass so you’re on your own for a bit. If you don’t see me by four thirty, you’d better come looking for my desiccated corpse.”
    “Shit, dude.” Jeremy snorted, his shoulders jerking with laughter. “He made you bring him coffee? Are you gonna spit polish his shoes next?”
    Paul erupted with amusement, and the two of them collapsed against one another, while I went out the door, cursing. Lousy little turds. They’d get theirs. Just see if they wouldn’t.
    As I trooped along the hallway toward Hathaway’s office, tension settled into my neck and drifted south. My shoulders seemed heavy, dragging me down a little more with every step I took toward that hideous golden door. Something compressed my lungs. I concentrated on keeping the air moving through them so I wouldn’t pass out and wind up in a hospital somewhere. Yeah, didn’t want to have to explain my unease to anyone.
    Brent clacked away at his keyboard, his light hair tucked neatly behind his ears. Silver star buttons dotted the front of his shiny pink shirt. A gold bracelet jangled on his wrist as he typed.
    I raised the Grindhouse bag in a small wave, but his gaze remained on the paper clipped to the stand beside him.
    I stopped, cocked an eyebrow. “I’m going in now.”
    Brent flinched and smacked his hand