Dar sat back down and shook her head. “Gerry, I’m going to get you for this.” She pulled out her Palm Pilot and scribbled a few notes on it, adding her new contact’s name. She looked up as her intercom buzzed again. “Yes?”
“Dar.” Kerry’s voice, though calm, held a distinct edge to it. “I think we need some high-level situational administration here.”
Ah. My ass-kicking skills are in demand. “Be right there,” she told Kerry. “Take five.” She released the intercom and stood, circling her desk and heading for the door. “Definitely not a good day.”
KERRY RESTED HER weight on her elbows and cradled the mug in her hands, slowly sipping from it. Across the table, Clarice Keown, a strikingly attractive black woman, was arguing with Mitchell Grafberg, a member of the Midwest team that had been responsible for administering the account over which they were currently fighting.
God. Kerry counted the seconds. She hadn’t seen this much finger-pointing since the last time someone had knocked over the water cooler and shorted out the Xerox machine. It wasn’t that she didn’t know what the problem was—she did. In fact, all of them knew it. The account had been botched from day one, and the bandwidth designed for it was simply not enough. Adding to it would be at ILS’s expense and would take far too much time, and no one wanted to be responsible for making that decision.
Well, actually, Kerry had already made it. The point was, no one wanted to be the reason she’d had to. She’d been a little surprised at Clarice, who was sharp, and funny, and whom she liked, because the regional director was the main roadblock. She flatly refused to accept that her team had goofed and was simply going around in circles with Red Sky At Morning 51
arguments, trying to justify the bill Dar was surely going to slap right onto her desk.
The outer door opened and closed, and the room was suddenly full of Dar Roberts, who swooped down on the table and circled it like a huge hunting hawk before settling neatly at Kerry’s side. Her entrance stopped the argument in its tracks, and now everyone’s attention was focused on Dar’s sleek form.
Dar gave them all a level, serious glare before turning and cocking her head at Kerry. “Well?”
“There was a significant underbudgeting of resources for the account,” Kerry stated. “That miscalculation allowed the bid to undercut the other offers, and it was awarded based on false data.”
The bridge of Dar’s nose wrinkled expressively.
“I’ve just had to order two additional T3 pipes and six new routers to make up the shortfall,” Kerry went on. “Which we won’t be able to bill back for. I’m looking at additional leveraging with other accounts in the area.”
Dar grunted.
Kerry correctly interpreted this to mean she’d done the right thing, but the cost was giving Dar a hive.
“So you needed me here to do what?” Dar asked. “Seems like you’ve got a handle on the disaster without me sticking my nose in.”
“There was a breakdown in processes,” Kerry reminded her. “And, unfortunately, I can’t fix the breakdown because we can’t seem to come to an agreement over where, exactly, the gap is.”
“Oh.” Dar nodded, then reviewed the table. “I get it. No one wants the blame, is that it?”
Clarice leaned forward. “Dar, it’s not anything to do with blame, okay? I still think it was a valid bid. The customer didn’t tell us enough for us to know different.”
“Bullshit,” Dar snapped back. “The customer doesn’t know his ass from a hole in the wall. That’s why they hired us. It’s our job to make sure we know what their business is, Clarice, and if we don’t know enough to ask the right questions, then we end up in situations like this.” She slammed her hand on the table, and everyone jumped.
Except Kerry. She’d felt the shift in the body next to her, and figured it would either be a table slap or a jump to the feet. Since Dar’s thigh didn’t move, she chose the slap and was expecting it.
“Kerry’s going to save your ass, and I agree with her decision, but somewhere down the line, she’s got to stand up and explain why Ops’s budget is in a deficit because we had to take on the expense of your screw-up,” Dar went on. “So you’d better figure out where your hole is and close it, or I will.”
Everyone was quiet for a minute. Clarice finally exhaled. “All right.
We’ll take care of it.”
“Good. Because if it happens again, I’m not going to worry about 52 Melissa Good whose fault it was, I’ll just fire all of you,” Dar snapped back, her voice low and electric, then building to an impressive volume that almost made Kerry wince. “Is that clearly understood?”
In the silence that followed, Kerry could clearly hear the air conditioner cycling on and off.
Clarice broke the stillness. “Understood.”
“Good.” Dar’s manner shifted abruptly to calm cordiality. “There’s a Midwest regional sales meeting going on down on ten. You might want to stop in there. I know Jose wanted to talk to you.” She cleared her throat, then absently picked up Kerry’s cup and took a sip of her tea.
Kerry was careful not to react. She kept a bland, interested look on her face and studied her pen. “I think we might even be able to push up the due date on those extra T3s. The local up there owes me a favor.”
“Good,” Dar said again, putting the cup down and standing up.
“Ladies and gentlemen.” She gave them a nod and strode out, leaving a Dar-sized awkwardness behind her.
“All right. Now that we’ve got that cleared up,” Kerry pushed back from the table and stood, “anything else we need to clarify?” She was met with silence. “Great. I’ve got a conference call I’m due on in ten minutes. I’ll keep you advised on the status of those circuits.” She gathered up her papers and tucked them under an arm, then picked up her cup and made her way to the door, pushing her way through it and letting it close behind her.
DAR HEARD THE steps catching up to her in the hallway, and she debated making a sharp right turn into the restroom. Then Clarice called her name and she regretfully abandoned the thought and stopped, turning and giving the black woman an inquiring look.
“Got a few minutes?”
Patience, Dar. Take a deep breath and imagine Kerry teaching you to crochet. “Sure,” Dar replied, then fell silent, putting the burden of the conversation back on Clarice.
“Somewhere more private than the central lobby?” There was a note of nervous amusement in Clarice’s voice. “Your office, maybe?”
“C’mon.” Dar turned and led the way along the hall, pulling the door to her outer office open and holding it as Clarice passed in front of her. María looked up as they entered, and her gaze slipped past Clarice’s shoulder and met Dar’s in wry amusement. The poor secretary had found herself in a most awkward position, having had to field the love-struck woman’s inquires into Dar’s personal tastes and preferences, and had retreated into a bland, Cuban incomprehension on many occasions.
“That is how I knew about you and Kerrisita,” María had told her once. “I did not have to tell her anything, Dar. When I saw her first time fixing you the Red Sky At Morning 53
coffee, the right way? I knew.”
Dar considered that as she followed Clarice into her inner office, realizing that should have signaled to her the difference between Kerry and all her former interests. Kerry alone hadn’t fenced around with her, done the dance, played the game. She’d walked in and simply claimed Dar, lock, stock and barrel, as though she’d had some inalienable right to do so.