Chapter 21
“Did you hear about that fire the other day?” says the tall blonde to her friend.
Eavesdropping isn’t what I intentionally do, but not listening is difficult as I wait in line on the bottom floor for a coffee. Her voice is pretty loud, loud enough to break through my mind, which was focused on the salmon recipe lighting up my phone screen.
I know the fire she’s talking about. Seattle had a rare sunny day when it occurred. Black smoke was spotted from the opposite side of the town. Hours passed until it was put out.
Her friend, a leggy brunette, throws a lock of hair off her shoulder, then tugs at the hem of her already short black skirt. “The engine plant, right? I know all about it.” Her voice is just as loud. “Mr. Loper, the owner, was in here a few months back, I think. He’s a friend of my dad’s.”
Loper. Forgetting the name is impossible. He’s the one who called me a cunt, and the same guy Grant threatened with a butter knife. That’s still hot to me, and I’m invested at the news of something burning down. So, while I shouldn’t be listening, how do I turn a deaf ear?
With great discretion, I slide closer, just in case one of them decides to lower their voice.
“Really?” the blonde asks. “Like, is he okay, then? It must suck having your entire factory burn down. I heard they couldn’t salvage anything.”
“Not really. I think he left town and was going to move in with his mom. He has nowhere to go.”
My thumb freezes over the main screen on my phone, pressing so long the app boxes jiggle. Automatically, my mind pulls to Grant and him buttoning his suit. The button-up. He did it before leaking the articles of Mr. Franz too. Moments after Grant did that, I was standing in an office, clicking “post” on German Twitter and then stocks tanked the next day.
Mr. Franz lost every endorsement in Europe, his mistress left him, his plant closed after hundreds of employees stated they’d been horrifically overworked and mistreated during their time at the factory. His wife divorced him, taking more than half of his assets, and all four of his homes are up for sale.
Grant knocked over Mr. Franz, and we haven’t heard a word from him since.
Mr. Loper, on the other hand, I’m not so sure about. Time has passed since I’ve seen that man, and if Grant was upset, surely, he would have acted out way before this. I think.
The girls eventually get their coffees, and I do the same. I return to my desk and make a note to ask Grant about everything later.
Butter knife and all.