Carol’s smile faltered, then grew bigger. “Yes! You are wild, Jenny. You are so funny. Kill Gordo.” She brayed the laugh that had always set Jenny’s teeth on edge. “If only.”
Jenny waited patiently while Carol’s laugh petered out, her smile stuttered and stopped, and her eyes got big and round. Finally, Carol put her hand to her mouth as if she were going to be sick.
“You mean it,” she whispered.
“Actually, to be more precise, you are going to kill Gordo. I’m going to help. Then we’ll be each other’s alibis, although we shouldn’t need to. It will look like an accident, after all.”
Carol’s head shook no, rapidly and repeatedly, but she said only, “Why me?”
Jenny replied in a sweetly rational tone. “Well, one, because you’re not on his team and you have no reason to kill him, and two, because I have leverage on you — the little incident with your uncle and all — but you have no leverage on me. So, if I kill him, there would be nothing to stop you from telling people that I did it.”
Carol looked at her speculatively.
Jenny tapped the side of her phone with its built-in recording feature. “Did I mention that I have that business with your uncle on tape?” It was a lie but Jenny was betting that Carol would believe it.
“I can’t do it,” Carol whispered. “I can’t just kill someone.”
“You’ve done it before.”
Carol watched her for a couple of beats, her face slack, then she grabbed for her recycling basket and heaved into it, a steaming batch of moo shu pork flying from her stomach.
Jenny adroitly scooted her chair back to avoid splatter and waited patiently until Carol was finished. She passed her a fistful of Kleenex and watched her wipe her mouth and her sweaty brow.
There, she thought to herself. That wasn’t so hard.
The top account execs at Nathan and Massey were allowed their eccentricities. Gordo kept snakes. Another one played country music in her office — letting it blare at top volume — playing one ghastly song over and over for weeks, then inexplicably segueing to another hellish ballad. No one said a word. A third zipped around the halls on a motorized scooter that the agency had bought for a special client presentation. This braying jackass whizzed around, endangering subordinates and scaring the crap out of the unsuspecting. Fine. Word was that for the über-bosses, anything goes. They were reportedly allowed one hissy fit per week without penalty. No matter how unreasonable.
Gordo had once famously banned all baked goods from the premises. You couldn’t bring in homemade brownies, Dunkin’ Donuts, or any other high-carb delight to help you get through the day. All because that asshole Gordo had a severe peanut allergy.
So, Jenny reasoned, it would be easy for Carol to add ground peanuts to Gordo’s nightly stir-fry. The restaurant would deny it, but hey, stuff happened.
Carol stopped snuffling and her face took on a crafty look.
“What about his EpiPen?”
Jenny smiled at her approvingly. “I’ll take care of the EpiPen. That will be my part of the deal.”
Carol nodded. Jenny would have hugged her if she weren’t so disgusting. Carol was in.
When her phone chimed the next day and Gordo’s name appeared on the ID readout, Jenny almost panicked. She fought down a scream and picked up the phone.
“Hey, Gordo. What’s up?”
“Come into my office, will you?”
It wasn’t a question. Damn. She was going to get fired before she could put her plan in motion.
“Sure. Right away.”
She was trembling as she entered his office.
“Shut the door.”
She sank into a chair. The snakes, inert behind the terrarium glass, watched her unblinkingly. Now and then one let his forked tongue flick out — the reptile equivalent of licking his chops, Jenny thought irrelevantly.
Gordo, too, watched her as if he were getting ready to strike.
“So? What’s up?” She tried to sound cheerful and unconcerned. Her mouth was dry and her palms were damp.
“I don’t want to fill that copy supe slot just yet,” Gordo said. “Can you cope for a while longer?”
“What? Oh, sure. No problem.”
“I know this puts extra pressure on you, but there will be some changes in the near future.”
Changes like her departure, no doubt.
“Sure. Whatever you need.”
“I knew I could count on you, Jenny.” He was actually sneering at her, mocking her openly.
She nodded weakly.
“Evaluations are due next week. Let’s set up a time to meet.”
He couldn’t have been more clear. He would give her a bad evaluation and fire her then.
Obediently, she brought her BlackBerry out of her pocket and leaned her elbows on his desk to thumb down her calendar. She managed to tip over a ceramic mug and pencils, pens, and highlighters rolled in all directions across Gordo’s desk and onto the floor. Great. Now Jenny’s humiliation was complete.
“Sorry, Gordo,” she whispered. She gathered the errant objects and stuffed them into the mug.
Gordo laughed meanly.
“How about we meet for that evaluation next Monday at ten?”
Jenny managed a smile as she backed out of his office.
How about we die first, asshole, she thought smugly. In her fist, Jenny held Gordo’s EpiPen.
Jenny thought that Carol would pass out as they circled the conference room table, checking the dozen Chinese food containers for their orders. She jabbed Carol in the ribs with her elbow as the night editor left with his pork chow fun. Jenny pointed her chopsticks at a waxy carton with Gordo’s standard order scribbled on the top. Sweating and shaking, Carol opened it and poured the contents of the baggie inside and stirred it with her finger. She had just closed it up when Traffic strolled in.
“You’re kung pao chicken, right?” Jenny asked, pointing with her chopsticks to the right container.
“No worries. Thanks, Jenny.”
Traffic showed no sign of noticing that Carol was having a full-scale anxiety attack.
Jenny picked up Carol’s dish and her own and steered her to the door. Carol allowed herself to be led blindly, stumbling against the doorframe as Gordo passed her coming in.
“Hey, Gordo,” Jenny said cheerfully, giving him a jaunty wave.
He gave her a nod and his lizard grin.
“Ladies.” The sibilant seemed to linger in the air like a hiss.
Jenny pushed Carol ahead of her and they made their way back to their cubicles. Carol slumped into her chair and shook her head as Jenny put the Chinese food container in front of her.
“Act normal, for God’s sake. Just eat dinner and finish up your work.”
Carol nodded mutely.
Jenny reached down and took the empty baggie from Carol’s clenched fist.
“I’ll keep this safe until we’re in the clear.”
Too late, Carol reached for it.
Jenny whisked it out of range, then smiled and pocketed the baggie. “It’s got both our prints on it. Just consider it insurance. We’re in this together.”
Carol nodded miserably and had just opened her Chinese food container when the first scream came.
Jenny reacted first and raced toward the sound. Gordo had staggered from his office, his face a ghastly red, already covered with welts, one hand outstretched like a movie zombie. The other hand was in his mouth, horribly, as if he were trying to eat himself. His eyes bulged. His khakis were wet in front where he had urinated.
Traffic had dropped a job jacket and screamed again, backing away from him, mesmerized, unable to turn and run. Gordo fell to one knee, holding himself up with his free hand and now, around his other hand, brown vomit was dribbling down his chin.