Oh Stupid Heart (16 page)

Having subdued Grant
both physically and emotionally, Trent walked into his office and called his
new security chief. “D.J. Have you found a replacement? I need you here.”

“I’m here, Mr.
Lancaster,” D.J. cheerfully replied. “So is Thomas. He wants me to stay in the
lobby until you happen by and confirm I’m part of your security team.”

Crap! Why couldn’t he
have normal employees? The only one who shows up to work, beside the cookie
monster in the basement, was the one who shouldn’t be coming in at all.

“I’ll be right down.”
He entered Carrie’s office where Sam sat watching Grant. “Do you mind watching
him? My new security guard is downstairs, but Thomas won’t let him come up
until I wander by and confirm he works here.”

Sam rolled his eyes.
“We’re good, but you realize while I’m standing here, I’m not watching Carrie
and who knows what’s happening to your car. A thief could scratch the paint
trying to break in to steal it.”

Trent decided to stop
off and get Carrie first. Leaving her with Jack didn’t seem like a good idea. Since
she had no cookies to trade for work, God only knew what the jerk would demand.
His mind kept playing various possibilities and by the time he arrived at the
systems room in the basement, his anger boiled in a full rage. When the door
refused to open, he lost it, pounding angrily. When no one responded from the
other side, he pulled out his phone and called Carrie.

The moment she
answered, he growled. “Open the door!”

“Trent? Where are
you?”

“Where do you think I
am? I’m standing in a dreary hall, which smells like a sewer, and if you don’t unlock
it at once, I’m ripping the door right off its hinges.”

“If you’re outside
systems, I should tell you, we aren’t in there and the door is reinforced, so
trying to rip it open will only harm your wrist. Now, take a few deep breaths
and tell me what’s wrong.”

Sensing no guilt in
her voice, he calmed. He told her about the new security guard, DJ, being held
captive by Thomas.

A heavy breath blew
into the phone. “I’ll talk to Thomas when I get back. He probably feels guilty
for not protecting the office from Miss Schnell. If he sees DJ as a competent
security guard, I may be able to convince him to enjoy his retirement.”

“Where are you,
exactly?”

“I’m having lunch.”

He groaned. He was
always forgetting she required constant feedings. “Where? I’ll join you.”

“I’m done. Besides, I
don’t think it’s a good idea to leave Grant un-chaperoned.”

“Sam’s watching him.”

“Yes, but he gets a
bit grumpy when he has to do stuff not in his job description.”

While true, it didn’t
matter. Trent could endure Sam’s bad attitude, but he’d never recover if
something happened to Carrie. “I don’t like you going out alone. Had you
asked
me, I would have told you not to leave the building.”

She huffed. “Glad I
didn’t ask.” The line went dead.

Trent stared at the
phone in shock. Had Carrie just hung up on him?

He called her back,
but it went directly to message.

What the hell? What did
he do?

Needing verification
he had a right to be pissed, he called Pete…Jon.

Upon hearing the
situation, Jon burst into laughter. “Oh, man, you fell into the sand trap.”

“What sand trap?”

“Trent, normal women
don’t see their boyfriends as masters. She doesn’t need your permission to
leave a building.”

“But I’m her
employer.”

“In neither role do
you get the right to stop her from having lunch. If she spends hours at lunch
and comes back drunk, as an employer, you could lecture her on the time and
intoxication issues, but not because she didn’t ask your permission. Man, you
channeled vintage Master Lancaster.”

He regretted calling
his friend. “Put on Mars.”

“I’ve no idea how to get
Mars to pick up the phone. I’ll hang up and you can call again. This time I
won’t answer.”

“Wait! I’m not mad at
you, although I didn’t appreciate the ‘channeling father’ comment. I need to
talk to Mars.”

“And I’m not mad at
you, either. However, I’m in the midst of writing. I signed on to help you with
your transition to a normal person, but I’m not running all over the house
hunting down your butler. Just call him back.”

The line went dead,
causing Trent to shake his head. Saving the man from destitution should warrant
a little more gratitude. Today had to be the worst fucking day in his life.

Mars answered on the
first ring.

“Mars, I need you to
call Carrie and apologize for me.”

“And what did we do,
sir?”

“I channeled my father.
I thought she should have asked before running off to lunch without me. I don’t
like her being out there alone. I fired Coco today and blackmailed her into
leaving peacefully, but I’m not a hundred percent certain she won’t seek
revenge upon Carrie.”

“Is Sam with her?”

“With Coco? He better
not be. You need to tell him to leave my former girlfriends alone. I don’t like
it.”

“I meant Carrie, sir.
Is Sam with her?”

“No, I have him
watching Coco’s pit bull.”

After a pause, Mars
asked, “A real or figurative pit bull?”

“The damn replacement
EA, whose main intent appears to be ruining Carrie’s life. He forged my name on
an email, stopping her Taiwan check from going out. Today, he physically
attacked her. Thankfully, Sam intervened.”

“I will call Miss
Carrie immediately, determine her location, and go there myself.”

Mars hung up before
Trent could stop him.
He
wanted to rescue her.

As he left the sewer-scented
basement and took the stairs up to the lobby, he wondered why all his employees
ignored his orders. His bad mood lightened at the sight of DJ’s happy face.

Trent approached and greeted
Thomas, his ancient security guard who refused to be retired. “Thomas, have you
met your security help.”

Thomas frowned. “I
have, but….” He cupped a hand to his mouth and yelled in the loudest whisper
imaginable. “We don’t need two security guards. Our lobby isn’t that big.”

“True, but after all the
tossing cabinets out of the window nonsense, I wanted to get you help who can
run up the stairs and stop trouble brewing on the fifth floor.”

Thomas grimaced.
“Probably a good idea. I’m not as fast as I once was.”

“You’ve paid your
‘running upstairs’ dues. Let our young fellow get the experience.”

Thomas nodded and launched
into an old story about once having to capture a rat on the fifth floor.

“A rather large rat is
upstairs as we speak.” Trent glanced at DJ. “My driver has it constrained, but
legally I can’t get rid of it yet, so I need you to watch the rodent carefully
when Sam lets it go.”

DJ’s brow furrowed.

Trent sighed. Why was
Carrie the only person who understood him? “Thomas, I’m going to go up with DJ
and show him the rat. Will you keep watch down here?”

Thomas waved them on
their way.

Inside the elevator,
Trent explained the situation.

DJ blew out air so
fast it created a whistle. “I thought you wanted me to catch a real rat. Those
things give me the creeps. When I was a kid, I woke up once to one eating my
face.” He pointed to a scar on his cheek.

Trent smiled on the
outside, but honestly he thought it the worst childhood memory he’d ever heard.
Made his complaints petty in comparison. He patted DJ on the back. “If we do
get a rat, I’ll catch it, and you can kick the crap out of it. Unfortunately,
our current rat is human, and until my lawyer gives me the green light, I can’t
even fire the bastard. I need you to follow him about and call me the second
you think he’s doing something he shouldn’t.”

“And how can I tell
the difference between what he’s suppose to do and not?”

“Good point.
Basically if he’s doing anything but sitting at a desk, scratching his ass,
he’s doing something he shouldn’t. While I can’t fire him, I’m removing all his
responsibilities. Hopefully, he’ll get so bored, he’ll quit. But not if he
thinks he can still get into mischief.” Trent patted DJ’s back. “Wait ‘til he
meets my new secret weapon.”

The big guy smiled.
“I’ve never been a secret weapon before. My job is interesting already.”

When Trent and DJ
arrived at Carrie’s office, Sam glared. “Took your sweet time about it.”

“Sam, my driver, meet
DJ, head of security. He’ll take over so you can return to your proper job.
Thank you for stepping in when needed. I greatly appreciated your assistance.
If you want the rest of the day off, you certainly have earned it.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed.
“I’m checking the stairwell for a pod.”

Trent had no idea
what his driver meant, but neither Grant nor DJ laughed at his comment, so this
wasn’t an elitist cultural gap issue. Sam had become obtuse.

Trent stood out of
ball-kicking range of his seated employee and resisted channeling his father.
“Grant, I’m disappointed in you. If not for your contract, I would have fired
you three times today.”

Grant smirked.

His father struggled
to come out, but Trent resisted.

“You are stripped of
all responsibilities. While I cannot fire you, yet, I will not allow you to harm
my company and my employees more than you already have. Thus, you will sit
there.” He pointed to a broken desk pushed against the wall. “With no access to
a phone, laptop, or any outside communications. And your job forthwith is to do
absolutely nothing. My head of security will make sure that’s all you do.”

He winked at DJ and
true to his nature, the man grinned. Trent had just given him the worst
security job ever, and the man beamed with joy.

Grant sneered at the
man. “What are you smiling about? You’ve been given a monkey’s job.”

DJ’s only response
was a quirk of one eyebrow, but despite the happy face, it was sufficient to
shut Grant up.

With a flick of his
wrist, DJ opened a lethal switch blade and sliced through the panty hose like
butter.

“Watch it!” Grant
snapped in fear.

“Good advice…for
you,” DJ softly replied.

Trent selected the
best chair from all his empty desks and gave it to DJ. He had to repress a
laugh when he realized Grant’s was the broken one Carrie used when she first
came to work for him. He went into his office and retrieved one of the squatty,
short-back chairs Carrie had declared pure torture to sit in.

“Here, you can use my
chair. I don’t want you falling and going on disability.”

Satisfied he had
neutered Coco’s pit bull, he returned to his office and turned on his computer.

He composed a letter
to his employees.

With the
exception those in systems working off location, and my sales people who should
be out visiting customers, anyone who is not at their desk tomorrow morning at
nine will be placed on probation. If you are truly ill, a doctor’s note will be
accepted, but it will be verified for authenticity. Anyone submitting a
fraudulent doctor’s note will be fired at once. If you are placed on probation
for not showing up tomorrow, or failing to work once you arrive, your job is at
risk.

Carrie has returned,
trained and ready to transform us. Lancaster Chairs will become a happy place
where teamwork abounds. You may be a part of it or you may leave. The choice is
yours.

Trent

He located the send
all and hit Enter with determination. Too much determination. The button stuck
and before he could pry it up, the email went out one hundred and ten times.

Damn it! He’d also
failed to put in a subject line. He should have waited for Carrie to check it
over.

He picked up his
phone and called her. The moment she answered, he spoke.

“I’m sorry.”

His words echoed. It
took him a second to realize she had apologized too.

He let her continue.

“I shouldn’t have
hung up on you,” Carrie said. “I didn’t realize you feared Coco would hunt me
down and attack me. Where are you? I’ve got a great idea which will move our
transition along.”

“I’m in my office,
starving.”

“I’ll bring you
lunch. What would you like?”

Damn it, her adorable
sweetness obliterated his surly petulance. “Choose something healthy.”

“Are you sure? What
if you don’t like it?”

“You can nibble on it
and our pet rat can eat the leftovers.”

“I hope the rat’s
name is Grant, because I’m not keen about… I’m not keen about either. You know
what? I’d rather have the four legged type. We could hire exterminators.”

Trent chuckled. “Just
come back to work.”

“Can I send Mars
home, or does he need to walk me to the office?”

“To the office,
please.”

She huffed. “I’m
curious. What exactly did you apologize for at the start of our phone call?”

“I’m sorry you
thought me a bully when I worried for your safety.”

“Fair enough. Did you
let Sam return to his job?”

“I’ve got head of
security handling Grant.”

“How’d Thomas take to
DJ?”

“He’s fine.”

“Then you didn’t
mention DJ was head of security.”

“Nope.”

She laughed softly.
“I have to order your food. See you in a minute.”

She hung up.

He called Jon back.

“All is well. Carrie
apologized for hanging up. She finally realized I only worried about her
safety.”

“You are one lucky
dog. I’d have been in the no-sex pound for a week after such a remark. Let me
get back to the future. I’m tearing Logan’s happy world apart.”

Trent had no idea
what the hell he meant. So he hung up.

He leaned back in his
chair and stared at the plywood covering his window. A second later, he called
Carrie.

“How may I be of
service?” she answered in a lighthearted tone.

He chuckled. “I do have
some ideas there. However, I’m presently staring at plywood—”

“And you wonder why
they haven’t started renovating our offices.”

“I wondered why they
hadn’t finished, but why they haven’t started would be a good question too.”

“I’ve left two
messages today, but so far I’m getting the runaround. Mr. Monroe, the contractor,
won’t talk to me or return my calls.”

“Should we get
another contractor?”

“I want to speak to
him first. I’m worried Grant did something to muck things up when I didn’t
allow the jerk to change the designs.”

“Give me the man’s
number; let me try.”

The secretary tried
to put him off, as well, but he insisted upon waiting until Mr. Monroe spoke to
him. After listening to elevator music for five minutes, he hung up, and called
Mars. “Call the SOB who is supposed to do my office and tell him if I haven’t
heard from him in five minutes, he’s fired.”

Mr. Monroe called him
back in two minutes, just as Carrie entered the office. He put the man on
speaker. “Carrie’s joining the conversation as well.”

Carrie took charge with
her soothing manner, bringing Trent, and the angry contractor down a notch.

“Has a
misunderstanding occurred? Did a young man named Grant contact you?”

“Yes, he certainly
did!” The man’s anger radiated over the phone.

“Let me assure you he
had no authority to do so. Can you tell me what he did to upset you? We need to
rectify the situation and get the project back on track.”

When the man replied,
Trent no longer heard the raging anger in his voice. “He said the plans had
changed and Mr. Lancaster wanted black, sleek furniture. I told him we sell high
quality woodwork. We don’t do plastic laminate. He said I didn’t grasp the
first thing about customer satisfaction. He told me the proper response was to
buy the furniture from a wholesaler, mark it up, and do my job, which was to
make the customer happy.”