Colt: Sounds like hell. Want to talk about it?
He waited while the three dots indicated she was typing. They stopped, started again. And then the reply came. One word. Yes.
Colt punched in the button with her name. She answered right away.
“You don’t really want to hear about 1099s, do you?” she asked.
He laughed. “Not unless you want to tell me about them.”
“I don’t. They’ll get done, but it’s a pain in the ass while trying to get information from clients. Part of the job.”
“You sound frustrated.”
He heard ice clinking into a glass. Then the sound of what he assumed was water from the dispenser in her fridge. “I am. And it’s not really the 1099s.” She sighed. “One of the accountants quit last week. Just walked out and didn’t come back. So I got some of his accounts. But there’s one I can’t sort out. The figures are all wrong.”
Colt’s senses prickled. Not that it meant a damned thing, but looking for shady shit was a part of his life. It’s what he did, and when something didn’t line up, his mind started traveling a well-worn path.
“Why would they be wrong? And what do you mean he didn’t come back?”
“I don’t know why they’re wrong, but they are. The bank statements and his spreadsheet don’t match up. It’s a lot of money, too.”
“And he quit.”
“That’s what we were told. He left work one day last week and didn’t come in the next day. He could have been sick or taken a personal day. At first I didn’t think anything of it. But when he wasn’t there for three days, it started to seem a little strange. Then an email went around from the partners telling us he’d quit, though he didn’t seem like the quitting kind to me. I’ve even wondered if maybe he was fired, but of course the partners won’t say. We might all be thinking it, but none of us have discussed it. I sure don’t want to be the one who starts that rumor, you know? Anyway, Liam and I were given his accounts. And maybe Jenny too, but I haven’t asked her yet.”
“Is it typical to divide up the accounts like that?”
“Yes. If there were any major accounts, then one of the partners would have taken them. And there might be, but I don’t know every account Charles had. Anyway, we got the rest. It’s just a hell of a lot of work on top of all the other work. God I sometimes hate this job.”
“I’m sorry, baby.”
He heard her breath hitch in. “Did you just call me baby?”
“Does that bother you?”
“Not really. I was just surprised.”
Colt lay back on the couch and picked up the remote. He clicked on a news station, keeping it on mute.
“Tell me about this guy,” he said. “What’s his name?”
“Charles Martinelli. He worked there for five years, which was another reason it was a surprise. But I also get how it could happen. Hell, some days I want to walk out and not go back. But I like paying my mortgage. Eating. Wearing clothes. You know, all the usual stuff.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, I get that. But I’m sure you could find something else if you had to.”
“Probably. But I don’t think walking out the way he did would help with recommendations for a new job.”
“No, guess not. So what would you do if you could do anything?”
She sighed. “I don’t know, Colt. I really don’t. I’ve always been good at math, which is how I ended up majoring in it. I enjoy numbers. Love solving equations and stuff. I’m not artistic at all. I envy Maddy because she gets to travel and view art for her job, but I couldn’t do something like that. I appreciate art, but I have no artistic skills.”
“I think if Maddy weren’t an art appraiser, she’d want to be an HGTV star,” Colt said with a smile.
Angie laughed. “You aren’t wrong. She loves those renovation shows. As you can tell when you walk into her house. It looks amazing, and I love it. But I couldn’t do that either. I don’t see those things the way she does. I could do the math for adding an addition onto the house—dimensions, costs, that kind of thing—but I couldn’t do the decorating part of it.”
“That’s an important part of the process, don’t you think?”
“Oh, definitely. Still, it doesn’t feel all that creative.”
“It sounds like you enjoy accounting, but not clients.”
Angie made a sound. “Yeah, that’s pretty accurate. And that’s a bit of a problem in this job. I should probably be a data analyst at a government think tank or something.”
Colt pictured her at BDI, analyzing data and providing projections, and he didn’t hate the idea. But he didn’t really know if she’d enjoy it. He also didn’t know if Ian needed another analyst, so he kept the thought to himself.
“Start applying then. Keep doing this job, but apply elsewhere. When you get a better offer, leave.”
“I really should. I need to update my resume, start job hunting, hope my employer doesn’t get wind of it, and then hope I don’t land an even worse job. Oh, hell, I sound like my dad,” she added with a moan. “He spent thirty years working for the government and when my mom would tell him he should find something else if he was unhappy, he’d say ‘but Lisa, what if the next job is worse?’”
“Then you get another one,” Colt said. “You can do that. Maybe he couldn’t because he was invested by then, but you can.”
Colt knew all about taking risks and finding your way when the path you’d always thought was yours was suddenly blocked. It wasn’t easy, but it was possible. Sometimes the only way out was to plow through the wall.
“You’re right.” She blew out a
