Disgruntled

  DISGRUNTLED

  Shelley K Wall

  DISGRUNTLED

  Copyright © 2012 Shelley K. Wall All rights reserved.

  ISBN: 1481007335 ISBN-13: 978-1481007337

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  DEDICATION

  To all you wonderful readers that take the time to read my work and appreciate it. Thank you!

  And to my family for putting up with all my lofty dreams, no matter how silly they may seem at the time. Disclaimer:

  This is a work of fiction. All characters, locations, events, and situations in this book are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to persons living or dead, events, or locations is purely

  coincidental and a product of the reader’s interpretation.

  Other titles by Shelley K Wall include:

  Numbers Never Lie Bring It On

  The Designated Driver’s Club

  For a more current list, go to

  www.shelleykwall.com

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  My love and adoration to my parents, Bob and Agnes Kurtz, who have taught me what hard work, respect, kindness, and loyalty really means—and more importantly what it can achieve. My sincerest thanks to my friends, Cindy Davis and Carol Bland, for their fantastic advice and support.

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  1 CHAPTER ONE

  Reva Zamora shivered from the chill that always rushed over her when Brent Huber was around. Why was he so creepy when the rest of her coworkers thought he was practically a saint? She realized she shouldn’t be judgmental. Her counselor had told her she needed to stop distrusting the world, or in this case, him. One bad experience from the past shouldn’t be allowed to taint future ones.

  She hadn’t been able to cross that bridge.

  Instead, she stopped seeing the counselor. Her instincts had always served her well in the past. They saved her life in fact. She decided to trust them more than a complete stranger that used statistics versus personal knowledge. How could she possibly understand what Reva had been through? Brent looked over his desk with dead eyes, “Have you ever used a gun for therapy, Reva?”

  The desk was piled high with paper and electronic parts. His computer monitor glared from behind him, framing his solemn face in a blue glow. The picture was nothing less than eerie, made even more so by his question. She assumed that was why he had asked it.

  “Not really, but I own a gun,” Reva chose not to admit that it had never been used, and she was thankful it had not. There was a time when it was her closest companion and the fear that drove the purchase had weighed heavily. She recognized something when she glanced over his shoulder at the blue screen. Icons. She narrowed her eyes and focused. Her desktop. Brent had remoted into her desktop, and opened her files. He was snooping through her employee data. It was there plain as day.

  “You want to tell me what that is?” She pointed at his screen, trying to ignore the hairs on her arm that prickled as she raised it.

  “Work.” His voice held a ting of challenge. He pressed a couple keys to engage the screensaver.

  “I doubt that. Exactly what do you need with my computer, especially my employee files and where do you get off snooping through them without my knowledge or approval?” She felt a flush coming up her neck but she sucked in a breath to maintain composure. She hated it when her old fears started to take hold again.

  “That wasn’t your computer and I wasn’t snooping. H.R. asked me to do some research for them.” He stood, bringing his eyes level with hers. He lied.

  The screensaver scrolled a line across and he looked down at his desk, tapping fingers on a printed picture that held his interest. “You ever used that gun of yours, boss?” The chill in her arm spread through her back and Reva rolled her shoulders involuntarily. Was he threatening me? “Who exactly asked you to do this ‘research’?”

  Brent walked around his desk, brushing against her in the confined space, his face within inches. He ignored her question. “My counselor said I should take up a sport or hobby. Said it would take my mind off things.”

  She had no idea how to answer that and his acrid breath against her arm further added to the chill she felt. “What things?”

  “He said it would give me an avenue to express my stress in a positive way.”

  “So, you chose weapons? That’s positive?”

  “There’s something exhilarating about punching holes in a target until it’s completely obliterated.” His voice hissed. “I imagine the face of my latest problem as I fire it. It’s – relaxing.”

  “Would that really be considered a sport?”

  His face twisted into a grin. Reva stood to her full height, attempting to gain control. She recognized the menace in his actions but she had just discovered an employee snooping on her computer. That was a violation of policy. He could try to avert her attention with scare tactics but she’d not fall for it.

  “I don’t see what that has to do with your connection to my computer and I seriously doubt Human Resources would authorize you accessing your supervisor’s or anyone else’s without consent. Who did the request come from? I’ll call and check.”

  Brent lowered his head and softened his voice further. By the time he spoke it was so quiet, the threat of his words hung in the air like smoke in a bar. “I told you that wasn’t your computer. You never answered my question, Reva. Have you ever used that gun of yours? Have you ever felt the thrill of blowing the hell out of a picture that represents whatever makes your life miserable at the time? You answer mine. I’ll answer yours.”

  In past years, she could have held the bravado easily, because it had been a core part of her. Recent years had taught her to keep it hidden. Silence it so that one didn’t cause further anger or aggression that might end up in –pain. She backed away, and turned, her focus on escape. She knew her trembling was visible.

  He laughed. Not a scary laugh that fit the craziness of his prior words. A normal laugh that seemed to dispel the fear. “I’m messing with you, Reva. Here, I’ll call upstairs and you can talk to them. They’ll confirm what I told you.” With his hip on the corner of his desk, Brent lifted the receiver of his desk phone and finger dialed an extension. He lifted it to his ear and waited. Reva thought it odd how quickly he had transformed from threatening to casual. A couple seconds ticked by.

  While he waited another call rang through, summoning him to answer. He feigned disappointment. “Voicemail. Sorry.” He clicked to the other call before she could ask him to leave a message for her. When he answered the other call, he turned as if dismissing her and began a conversation with the caller, apparently a girlfriend. He mouthed the words “excuse me” and waved.

  .

  2 CHAPTER TWO

  Two days later, Reva’s blood boiled. She almost heard the bubbling and she definitely felt it. If anyone walked down this hall, she was certain they’d turn and run after one look at her face. Did Brent just call me a lunatic?

  She heard the words from the other side just as she pressed palms against the cold wood to open the door of the staff room. She was seconds away from trouncing in, but decided to take a few breaths instead. Practice your yoga breathing. She attempted to calm herself. This came from a staff member with no experience that she’d hired away from a local restaurant. He had practically begged her for the job and she’d taken the chance against her better judgment. He doesn’t have the nerve to talk to me in person?

  His words continued on the other side of the barrier, speaking to an unknown listener. “I mean, did you hear her talk in the meeting yesterday? She has no idea what she’s doing and she’s so inconsistent it’s ridiculous. I absolutely hate her. I swear to God, I felt like punching her when she spoke but –,” she overheard.

  “That’s a little over r
eactive,” Gavin, one of her other direct reports, responded.

  “I’m not really the violent type anyway.”

  “I don’t think she intended to upset you. She’s just trying to give you direction. Maybe the way she says things could be nicer.”

  Nicer? I practically coddled the guy because he’s so moody and I didn’t want to offend him. She smiled. So much for the breathing exercises. “It’s not just that. I can take constructive criticism as well as the next guy. I’m not that sensitive - but she’s so harsh – her words aren’t the problem. It’s how she uses them. The tone. And those incessant lists she makes are annoying. Does she do that when you’re talking to her, or is it just me?” The faint smell of McDonald’s fries reached her nose. Gavin often ran through the drive-thru on his lunch hour. She knew this because he offered to get her a burger whenever he went.

  Gavin ignored the question and laughed. “So, you’re telling me if she said the same thing all soft and sweet, you wouldn’t have a problem?”

  “No. Um. I guess. Yeah.”

  “Better check your gender bias, man. If a guy said it, he’d add a damn or something, or call you a few names – and you wouldn’t give a shit about it. Besides I think her intention is good – she’s just saying what’s on her mind. She’s trying to do her job. If you have a problem with it, tell her. She’ll listen.”

  “Maybe I will.”

  “Or quit and find someone you can deal with.”

  “Where would I go? Besides, that’s too drastic.”

  Reva jolted back to the present when the clip clop of approaching heels caught her attention. This was probably not a good time to stop in and check on Gavin’s projects as she’d intended.

  Later at her desk, Reva rubbed her throbbing temples. A quick glance at the clock signaled the weekend was upon them and she could go home. More time to consider how to handle what she’d learned. As she drove home to the suburbs, she debated that logic too. After all, if he was that unhappy, surely she should talk to him and find a way to resolve the problems right? Although if he intended to talk with her, he would. Left unattended, his foul mood was certain to infect the staff in a negative way. If he said all that to Gavin, what else was he complaining about, and to whom?

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said out loud. “Anyone who knows me will take it with a grain of salt. You can’t change opinion by attacking it. Just keep a positive face on and it’ll all blow over.”

  Reva knew why he was upset. She had caught him trying to log into her computer again…he had denied it. She knew that denial to be untrue but couldn’t prove otherwise. Apparently, he didn’t care for being caught red-handed. Responding by suggesting that she should try to find a boyfriend rather than follow him around didn’t exactly lighten her mood. Especially since she followed him right into her own office. The opposite mood resulted, in fact. The word “fired” flashed through her brain but she bit it back. That was the old Reva. She was determined to be a better, more street savvy woman going forward. She seriously knew she could turn him around – he was a talented young man that worked hard and could change his attitude. She was certain, or at least she had been before hearing his conversation with Gavin, now she wasn’t as confident. She shrugged and wished she could tell the truth to Gavin to clear up why Brent was complaining, but that was out of bounds. Never discuss employees with other employees. She considered going to Human Resources. Her old self would have stormed in earlier and fired him on the spot. But her old self had been taught a lesson –that self was too brash and prone to spur of the moment decisions. At least until her mouth put her in acute care with stitches. No, it’s a minor issue – it will turn out fine in no time. Besides, she had no intention of appearing incompetent as a manager by taking every little squabble to someone else for resolution. By the time Reva reached her house, she’d convinced herself to leave it alone and move on to happier things. This was an exercise she had undertaken often over the past few years just for self-preservation. She sighed. An abusive relationship will do that to a person.

  Her thoughts derailed when she walked up the sidewalk to her front door and viewed a very fine looking stranger lazing across her step in shorts and a brown t-shirt. That certainly brought out the happy. The chacos on his feet looked worn and, judging by the tan lines on his toes, they’d seen heavy use. The prickle of fear that had always hit her when surprised was short-lived. Apprehension was forced away as she mustered a slight smile, yet held her breath. She really wanted her old self back.

  “You live here?” he asked, squinting into the sun behind her as he stood.

  Reva debated answering. He didn’t look dangerous but then neither had her ex-fiancé. She shook her head

  “No? Do you know who does then?”

  She gained control of her voice and answered, “Yes, I’m sorry. It’s my house. Can I help you?”

  “I live back there.” He pointed straight through the house. “Behind you.”

  “Ah. You’re the one who keeps throwing lemons and limes over the fence. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about that. Can’t you just put them in the garbage or something?” How does one politely tell a person not to use their backyard for disposal? The first time fruit had sailed over the fence, it had terrified her such that she ran inside and locked the door. Subsequent discoveries of lemons and limes gave way to irritation that the yard had become a dumping ground for her neighbor’s unwanted harvest.

  He laughed. Actually, he sparkled. Weird. “I throw them over to all my neighbors. I thought you might like them and I’ve got too many. Listen, my son’s ferret crawled under the fence and it was in your backyard.”

  “Oh, no problem…come on. You can go through here and get it.” She strode to the side gate and opened it, waiting for him to enter. He stood back and motioned for her to proceed.

  “Not really necessary. He climbed over and got it himself,” he said.

  She glanced over her shoulder puzzled, but kept moving through the fence with him following. “I don’t understand.” “He broke some yard-art thing you had back there when he crawled over.” His footsteps plodded closely behind her. Oddly, the hair on the back of her neck had not risen. Yardart. That was a good way of describing the welded contraption her brother had gifted her with on her twentyninth birthday. It always required an explanation – it was intended to be some sort of sundial, made of metal with a ceramic globe in the center. She had never known what to do with it so she put it at the back of the yard, out of the way for mowing. One of many.

  “It’s a sundial,” she stated. The shards of ceramic lay in the grass like a cracked egg. Ben will be pissed. Ben believed in hand-made gifts, never bought any, and he took it personally if the new treat wasn’t proudly displayed. Her backyard had metal art in every possible opening.

  “Wow,” the man said when he saw the conglomeration of metal, glass, and rocks sprawled around. “Either you’re really into your yard or your husband’s really into welding.” “Neither. My brother makes this stuff and I don’t know what to do with it. He gives it to me all the time. I can’t just…”

  “Say no or throw it away? What a softie,” he teased. “Yeah, but I draw the line at the front yard. At least I have standards. I’m not putting any of this stuff out there.” She reached down, gathered the fragments of ceramic and started toward the trash. “Don’t worry about this. As you can see, there’s plenty more.” She waved a hand at the other items.

  “Still, this one was unique. I’ll get you a new ball for it.” He walked over to a table that Ben had made of metal and concrete. “This is cool. Your brother did this too?” “Yep. Not the chairs, just the table.”

  He stood over it, shoulders square, tanned arms and legs, admiring the work. As he leaned down to smooth fingers over the surface, Reva noted the tightness in his arms and legs. He worked outside. Or he’s a fitness buff. He turned suddenly toward her and caught her eyes…on his butt. “Nice table.” A slow smile warmed his face. He rubbed a hand on his sho
rts and held it out. “I’m Todd Grisham.” She hesitated, then shifted the ceramic pieces to one hand and grasped his. “Reva Zamora.”

  “Well, Reva. Where would I find something like that?” He pointed to the pieces. “Unbroken, of course.”

  “I said don’t worry about it. You don’t need to replace it.” She dropped the pieces in the trash and brushed her hands together.

  “You have to help me out on this. I’m trying to teach my son a lesson on taking responsibility. He’s the one that will replace this, not me.” He lowered his brows into a frown. Todd had an interesting face. His nose was straight and long with a small scar at the side. A shadow of whiskers lined his chin and one eyebrow had a small bare spot, very likely another scar. She doubted those marks appeared in the same manner as the one on her left temple just below the hairline. “I see. Well, in that case, your wife can probably track one down. I’d imagine they have them at a craft store or garden center. I don’t really know.”

  “That’d be tough. My ex-wife just dumped Eric on me so she could spend the weekend with her ex-boss, whom she’s banging and plans to make hubby number three, hence the ex-wife. I doubt she’d be much help. And personally, I’d rather not ask her.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. Ancient history. It’s been two years.”

  “Not that ancient. How old is Eric?” She realized he would notice the quick calculations going through her head. Two years divorced, kid of….

  “Five.”

  Five years. So, married seven?

  “Eric is from her previous relationship but I’m the only dad he’s known.” Todd’s face went serious as he explained. Oh, well, that completely blew the calculations out of the water. Reva frowned but listened. “I’m lucky she lets me still see him. It’d be pretty hard on him to be ditched by two dads.” “Does he remember his real dad?” She squinted into the last glimmer of sun that dipped behind her roof.

  “Barely, but he’s awfully young to deal with that. As far as I’m concerned, he’s mine. I’ve fed him, stayed up all night with him when he was throwing up…and taught him how to pee like a man.”