The Wedding Date

Chapter 2 - Thanksgiving

  Stopping by the office for a change of scenery while I worked seemed like a good idea this morning. It's Thanksgiving after all, and the office is quiet.

Much too quiet. It makes me a little uneasy sitting in my office knowing that no one else is here but me. From my speakers I hear the radio announcer promise back to back Led Zeppelin songs before cutting to a commercial.

Drumming my fingers on the desk as I read over the email Natalie, the head of our New Mexico design team, had sent me late last night. The collection for next spring was coming along on schedule and she had emailed me to tell me that she had mailed out my early access items.

Probably the best thing about my job was the free clothes. Pastels were going to be all over the fashion scene next year and I was thrilled. The sea foam green that dominated the collection complimented my skintone.

I copy the tracking code from Natalie's email and switch tabs. Awesome. My packages were set to be delivered next Monday, hopefully avoiding getting caught up in the rush of packages for the upcoming holiday season.

A dull thud echoes throughout the empty ninth floor, a shiver halting my fingers just above my keyboard.

No one is here but me. No one is here but me.

I cautiously mute the classic rock coming from my laptop. My ears strain to pick up any hint of movement outside my office door. Maybe it was just my imagination.

"Damn it!"

There's a knot in my stomach. Unless my imagination suddenly sounded like a man, someone else is here.

I bring my hands to my mouth. What should I do now? Okay, breathe. I have to remember to breathe. It's like there are a bunch of tiny earthquakes taking over my nerves.

"Think, Peach, think!" I whisper to myself as I grab my cell phone.

"What?" Did I not plug it in when I first got here? "You've gotta be freaking kidding me."

I search along my desk for any form of a weapon. Damnit! Why hadn't I filled out my license to carry paperwork like Dad told me? Wait, over there. Fabric shears! Those are sharp, at least. I slowly rise from my chair, careful to not push it too far back to avoid the noise, and creep across the room. These will protect me more than nothing, as long as they don't slip out of my sweaty palms.

I slowly reach for the doorknob and crack my office door open. I peer out of the tiny crevice, but see no one.

The elevator is only sixty feet away. I can make it.

I grip onto my shears as I briskly walk towards the exit, holding them out in front of me like a dagger in a rip-off version of MacBeth.

As I near the elevator, I hear more movement from Leon's office. Why is his door open?

Oh no. The potential thief could be rifling through our company's files.

No, no. Don't try and be a hero. Just go downstairs and call the police. You're a fashion executive, not Chuck Norris.

I'll just call up the elevator and..

"I have a knife!" I scream as I thrust the shears toward Leon's door as it swings open.

"And... I have... a pair of sneakers?"

Sneakers?

"Leon?" I stare at my boss as I slowly lower the shears down to my side. "What are you doing here?"

He cracks a smile and leans back against the door frame, his sneakers in one hand and his phone in the other. "Well, you see, I kind of own the company."