The Checklist, Addie Woolridge [ebook reader for pc and android txt] 📗

papers, pens, hair ties, and a romance novel everywhere. Dylan watched in semihorror as the frizzy crown of Gunderson’s head bowed toward the floor and began picking up the book.

“Sorry, you scared the hell out of me.”

“It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have been standing so close to the door,” Dylan said, diving toward the mass of paperwork and a breath-mint container. “I was hoping to catch you before you went in.” The moment she said it, Dylan realized it was the wrong thing to say. Panic spread across his freckles.

“Layla, would you mind calling security?” he stage-whispered to the barista, dropping the novel and inching away from her. “Look, if you’ve been recently let go, Steve handles all that now. I don’t know how you got in here or what you want, but I can assure you that I don’t keep large sums of cash on my person.”

Dylan had to wonder if Gunderson was really as brilliant as everyone said he was. If she were going to rob or otherwise maim him, did he think she would come dressed in heels and a pencil skirt?

She sighed. “No. You haven’t fired me. In fact, you hired me. Look, Mr. Gunderson, I’m desperate for twenty minutes of your time. Time you agreed to give me.” She crossed her arms as he sputtered to a halt, then added, “As I’m sure Steve reminded you this morning.” She watched as recognition slowly spread across his face, his shoulders retracting from his ears a quarter of an inch.

“Are you the consultant?”

“Yes. And given the time limitations imposed by your board of directors and our mutually agreed-upon contract, I believe it’s best we get started right away. I understand you’re busy, but I must insist we meet, at least briefly, today. The rest of our discussion can be put off for another time.” She nodded authoritatively as his shoulders dropped another fraction.

“Steve mentioned you were a little unorthodox,” he mumbled, adjusting his hoodie. “I guess I have a few minutes before my next meeting.”

“I’m only unorthodox when dealing with Technocore. Would you like to step into your office, or do you prefer conducting business outside of the restroom?” Dylan asked, instantly regretting her off-the-cuff remark. She sounded like her mother.

Tim bent down and picked up the novel, drawing his eyebrows together before letting out a bark, which doubled as a laugh. “You’re funny. In a bizarre, bathroom-stalker kind of way.” Handing her the novel and her emergency deodorant, he continued, “What’s your name, again?”

She stuffed the pirate book and the deodorant back in her satchel before standing up and rearranging the busted bag under her arm. Squaring her shoulders, she extended a hand toward Tim. “Dylan Delacroix.”

Tim shook her hand, recovering his swagger. “I guess you already know who I am.”

Before she could stop herself, she added, “Mr. Gunderson, I think you should come up with a code to ask Layla for security. Could you please call security is a surefire way to cause both the intruder and the employee to panic.”

“You can call me Tim,” he said, ignoring her criticism.

“Okay, Tim. Shall we get going?” Dylan said, appraising his Dockers and obnoxious neon-orange high-tops as he started toward the office door with a curt nod at Layla. Biting back frustration, she continued, “I’m here because of a board of directors mandate to right this ship. I know it is hard to run a company. It was easier when you were a small team of white-hat hackers in a basement, but now you have thousands of people counting on you and scrutinizing your every move. Not to mention countless investors wanting more out of you. Sound right?”

Tim gaped at her, his mouth slightly open so she could see the wire retainer glued to his bottom teeth. He nodded, taking a seat in the swivel chair behind his desk.

“Good. I know it’s tough, and I want to help you. But I need you to do a couple of things for me. First, your employees are terrified that I’m here to fire them. Will you please send out a company-wide email letting everyone know that I’ll be asking to speak with some of them? Explain that I am not here to fire them but to assess the culture of Technocore and make improvements.”

“Can’t Steve do that?” Tim seemed to be regaining some of his pluck. Apparently, a stern talking-to only silenced him for so long.

“No, because Steve’s in charge of firing people. Think about how that looks to the staff,” Dylan commanded, trying to withhold some of her exasperation.

Tim grabbed a stress ball off his desk and nodded as if he understood her logic, blessedly shutting his mouth so she didn’t have to see his charming retainer anymore.

“Also, I need to get on your calendar for a full discussion of your company goals and director expectations ASAP. This will take about three hours. If that means I stay until ten p.m. to meet with you, fine.”

“I’ve made time on Thursday. Anything else?”

“Yes.” Dylan drew a deep breath. Since she was already making guaranteed-to-get-her-fired requests, she continued, “Enough with the red Roadster. It’s killing you in the court of public opinion and makes recruiting quality people near impossible.”

Tim’s mouth dropped back open, encouraging the eggplant color creeping toward his hairline.

“But I like—” Gunderson jumped as his phone rang. Glancing over at the caller ID, he switched gears and put on a headset. “Fine. This is my next appointment. I’ll think about the car.”

“That was all I needed.” Dylan couldn’t hide her smile as she stood.

“Any other pressing business before Thursday?” He adopted an ultraprofessional tone that Dylan assumed was more for the benefit of the people listening on the other end of the line than for her. She shook her head.

“Great, I’ll get the memo out this afternoon and make sure that you’re cc’d.” Without missing a beat, he switched back to the line. “Tim here.”

Dylan could hear the phone line wah-wahing like Charlie Brown characters as she walked toward the