Steve sat in the office. He shifted awkwardly in his chair. He could tell his pants had risen revealing a stripe of white tube sock above his brown loafers. He licked his lips. A nervous habit. He tasted sweat. Now he could feel it. Perspiration. He lifted one arm slightly. Sticky. Lifted the other. Also sticky.
He could see through the blinds that there was motion in the outer office. They’d shut him in here, supposedly awaiting the return of his boss. The phone call had come out of the blue. Three calls in a row in fact. From his boss. He didn’t pick up the first two, but decided he should pick up the third.
“We need you back in Little Rock ASAP.” Dave Driscoll’s voice was terse. Tight. There were none of the usual pleasantries.
“Now? I’m teaching a class.”
“Now.”
“But I was planning to stay here overnight.”
“Now, Steve. We need you back at the office. Now.”
He had made his apologies to his class and drove the two hours back to the office. It was after 5:00pm when he got there. Dave was still there as well as a few other people. Odd for a Friday afternoon.
Dave’s tone was a little nicer when he greeted Steve and had him take a seat in his office.
“Sorry to freak you out, Bud. I knew we were pulling you out of class, but I needed to get you back here before the weekend officially got rolling. I have to get a few things together for our meeting. Just hang out here and I’ll be back in a few.”
Steve looked through the blinds again. His breath caught in his chest. What was SHE doing here? He’d only seen her once in person but knew her by reputation. All the guys did. Stella Campos, Director of Human Resources. Since coming to the Firm six months ago, she’d cleaned house. Three guys had been dismissed, starting with Stella’s boss, the former Director of Human Resources, amid murky circumstances.
Stella strode past the window and paused with her hand on the door knob. This was what she lived for. Maybe not after 5:00pm on a Friday night, but still this one would be worth the late evening.
“Shit,” Stella said only half under her breath. She pulled her cell phone out of its holster. She quickly found the number for her assistant. “Grace, can you cancel my court reservation and call Donna to let her know I can’t make it?”
Stella loved her Friday night singles matches and she certainly wasn’t overjoyed that this smarmy asshole was going to interfere. However, nailing guys like Steve was why she went to law school and why she began her career in human resources. She’d seen too much and watched too many men get away with harassing women, like tennis coaches and tournament directors promising “opportunities” in exchange for certain favors. Now that she was in the corporate world, Stella made it her mission to protect innocent women from predatory assholes. She turned back toward the door and twisted the knob. This was going to be fun.
As Stella entered the room, she could see the usual reaction. She could feel Steve’s pulse quicken and see the tightness in his smile as he gingerly rose from his chair to greet her. She strode across the room confidently, and extended her hand.
“Steve? I’m Stella Campos, H.R. Director.” His hand was clammy and his grip no match for hers. She clamped down on his hand. She’d dry hers off in a moment.
“Yes, ma’am. Steve Nichols.” Steve tried not to stammer and attempted to make eye contact. Her eyes were ice blue. Ice, yes that’s how the guys described her. Steel and ice. They said she’d played tennis competitively and she was just like that on the court. Word on the street was that she was a lesbian. Steve hated lesbians.
Stella gestured for Steve to sit as she took a seat behind Dave’s desk. She motioned for Dave to take the only other free chair. Stella didn’t need home court advantage. She liked having these meetings on “friendly” turf. In the beginning they’d think it was a promotion. Then the ax would quickly fall. This guy, though, she sensed he knew what was coming. His palm was too sweaty and his posture too rigid. He was guilty of something.
“Thank you for coming back to the office on such short notice.” Stella opened with a pleasant smile.
“No, no problem. What can I do for you?”
“We just have some business we need to get taken care of before the weekend.”
“Ok yeah. Sounds good.”
Stella could see his posture become even tighter. Steve tugged on a pant leg, licked his lips, and crossed his arms over his chest.
What do you know, Stella thought, he has tells. Everyone had tells. She had honed her observation skills by studying her opponents on the tennis court. A look this way meant a serve down the middle. A dip in the shoulders meant they were mentally out of the match. This guy, though, this guy was easy. Either he was a complete chump or so well practiced that he never thought he’d sit in a meeting like this. Stella knew the answer from what was left of his personnel file.
“How were things in Texarkana?” Stella leaned back in her chair slightly.
Steve took a deep breath and caught a whiff of her perfume. Fuck. It was the same perfume his wife started wearing right after she asked him for a divorce. Bitch.
He mustered a smile. “Good. Good. They are actually my highest performing client this fiscal year.”
“Well, that’s excellent! What is the name of the manager out there?”
“Jeff Canfield. Great guy.”
“He must have a great team. Who is his lead? She must be doing a spectacular job!”
He couldn’t breathe. She was asking about her. Her.
“Jaclyn. Jaclyn Jameson.”
“You work pretty closely with Ms. Jameson?”
“Well, I… As much as with anyone else.”
“Your travel records show you go to Texarkana quite a bit. More than any other location you cover.”
“Well, they hadn’t been meeting their goals, so I spent some extra time.”
“By your own admission, Steve, Texarkana is your highest performing client this year.”
Stella pulled some papers out of a file and shuffled them.
“I show that in the past three months you have visited Texarkana six times and most of those stays covered multiple days.”
Stella’s gaze did not waiver.
“I’m not really sure.”
“Let me clarify this for you.” Stella read directly from the page in front of her.
“March 11 and 12.”
“That was an all-team meeting. We chose a Texarkana as the site.”
“Ok. April 3. April 15 and 16. April 28 through May 1. May 15 and 16.”
Steve didn’t answer. He knew better than to volunteer too much information. Plausible deniability had to be maintained at all costs.
“On these visits did you meet with Mr. Canfield or Ms. Jameson?”
“I always touched base with Jeff but generally I spend more time with the leads.”
“Did you spend any time with Ms. Jameson outside of the store?”
“I took her to lunch to celebrate her March metrics performance in the beginning of April.”
“Ok, so that was the reason for your visit on April 3rd?”
“If you’re saying that’s the date, then yes.”
“How did you arrange this meeting?”
“I don’t remember. I probably called Ms. Jameson.”
“Did you arrange this lunch with Ms Jameson with Mr. Canfield’s assistance?
Stella stared Steve directly in the eye. He licked his upper lip and tugged on a pant leg.
“Steve, I’m going to help you with this one. We can find zero trace on your business phone records, including both your cell and office land lines, of you contacting the store in Texarkana, Mr. Canfield’s cell, or Ms. Jameson’s cell.”
Stella leaned forward in her chair slightly. Her ice blue eyes bore into Steve’s.
“You just said you think you called Ms. Jameson to set up this meeting. How did you contact her if not on one of your business lines?”
“I may have used my personal cell phone.”
Game, Stella thought.
“Ok, and you were conducting a training class at her store today?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“How did you arrange that meeting? Did you arrange it with Mr. Canfield or Ms. Jameson?”
“Ms. Jameson. I called her at the store.”
“Using which of your phones?”
“I don’t remember.”
“Well, I’m going to tell you that it wasn’t your business lines. So, Steve if you gave us your personal cell phone records, we would see a couple calls to Ms. Jameson’s cell or her store on or around April 3rd and maybe a few again in May to set up the class you were teaching today.”
“Sure. Yeah.”
Stella continued. “Steve, do you recall that on February 20th of this year that my predecessor asked you not to contact clients on Ms. Jameson’s level personally? That all contact was to be through the location managers?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Now by your own admission, you have done so and on your personal cell phone. It begs a few questions, Steve, honestly. I’m on your side here but, from where I sit, it looks like you are conducting a personal, non-business relationship with Ms. Jameson. Are you aware that such relationships with clients are considered improper?”
Set, Stella thought.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“This is because you personally have the ability to adjust goals and I can see from the reports over the past few months you’ve been lowering quite a few goals. Not just those at Ms. Jameson’s location, but hers are consistently among the lowest even though she is among the highest producing. Dave, isn’t it normal practice to increase the best performers to keep them striving higher?”
Dave cleared his throat.
“Yes, ma’am, it is. We like to keep pushing the best to be even better.”
“Do you realize, Steve, that this could be considered a case of quid pro quo sexual harassment?”
Steve stared at the floor. He couldn’t breathe. Only one thought came to him. She turned him in. That bitch!
“She turned me in?” His face reddened in anger and he no longer made eye contact.
“No, Steve, she didn’t, but it seems like you suspect she could. Is there something you would like to tell us?”
He didn’t answer.
“Steve? I can help you but you have to help me help you. Give us access to your personal cell phone records and we can clear this right up. If you haven’t had any contact with her except to set up the meetings we discussed earlier, then she won’t have anything to hold over you. We can make this go away before it ever makes the light of day. Slap on the wrist and a promise never to do it again.”
Steve licked his lips again. He could feel the sweat running down his back. They had him. He couldn’t produce his cell phone records. They would see hundreds upon hundreds of text messages and phone calls to Ms. Jameson, as they called her. If he didn’t produce them, though, they would know he was guilty and keep digging. It was a Catch-22. Damn that dyke bitch, Stella Campos. Bob, the previous HR would have stopped this before it got this far. He had all the other times. Then Bob got nailed nailing three office temps and Steve was left unprotected.
Stella leaned back in her chair
You bastard, Stella thought. I knew I’d get you eventually.
Steve’s mind reeled. They had him. Dead to rites. He thought about all of them. He could remember all their names. He’d worn that like a private little badge of honor over the years. I remember all of them. Trish. Sally. Jillian. Kate. Sarah. Wendi (with an i). Monica. Amanda. Suzanne. Kelly. Jaclyn. Jaclyn. He actually kind of liked her. Maybe because she was naïve enough to think she was the first.
His career at the Firm was over. Hell, his career in Little Rock was probably over. Steve knew Stella Campos would somehow make sure of that. And then there was his wife, I mean ex-wife, and kids. When the alimony and child support stopped they would know he lost his job. How could he explain this? He couldn’t. He wouldn’t.
Steve stood. Sweat ran down his back. He leaned down to his left ankle and pulled the gun out of its holster. He carried it for protection. He could shoot both of them and run. Two shots, two kills. At this range, Steve knew he was that good. Even with sweaty palms.
Stella saw the gun come out. Holy shit. Championship Point. She knew Steve was a major douche bag, but she never counted on this. She froze, eyes scope locked on the gun. She didn’t dare look at Dave sitting next to her.
With one swift movement, Steve put the gun to his right temple and pulled the trigger. Stella leaned back in her chair. She could feel the warm, wet blood, Steve’s warm, wet blood, on her face and hands.
Game, Set, Match, Campos. This was not how she expected to win.
Smarmy Steve was dead.