“Thank you.”
Wendy looked toward Samantha.
“And yours?”
Samantha lowered her phone.
“I don't consent to being recorded.”
Wendy replied:
“You were recording me.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
No answer.
Wendy looked toward Derek again.
“I would like to file a formal complaint.”
Derek folded his arms.
“With who?”
“Management.”
He laughed.
“Management?”
“Yes.”
“You don’t even belong in this building.”
Wendy wiped cola from her eyebrow with one finger.
“I have an appointment.”
Derek stepped closer again.
“Whatever imaginary appointment you think you have, nobody important is going to care about this.”
Wendy’s eyes hardened.
He continued:
“You don't matter here.”
The lobby went quiet again.
Not total silence.
Elevators chimed.
Shoes crossed marble.
The revolving door moved.
But the people around them stopped participating in the morning.
Wendy closed her eyes.
One second.
Not defeat.
Control.
When she opened them, she looked past Derek toward the entrance.
8:51.
Nine minutes before the scheduled meeting.
Jim sometimes arrived early.
Wendy knew.
Derek did not.
He saw her looking.
Turned.
Nobody yet.
He smirked.
“Waiting for your imaginary friend?”
Wendy said nothing.
He looked toward the sticky floor.
Then back.
“Someone get a mop.”
Samantha laughed again.
This time almost alone.
Jenna did not.
The receptionist’s face had gone pale.
Michael stood near Wendy now.
He looked ashamed.
The delivery worker by the doors stared openly.
A young employee near the elevators had raised his phone.
Not laughing.
Recording.
Wendy looked toward him.
He lowered it uncertainly.
She said:
“Keep recording.”
Derek’s head snapped toward her.
“What?”
Wendy repeated:
“Keep recording.”
The young man hesitated.
Then raised the phone again.
Derek stepped forward.
“Turn that off.”
Wendy said:
“No.”
“This is company property.”
“And?”
“We have filming rules.”
Samantha still had her phone in hand.
Wendy looked toward it.
“Apparently selective ones.”
Michael almost smiled.
Derek saw.
His face reddened.
He grabbed the cream appointment envelope from the counter.
Wendy had nearly forgotten it.
It contained only a printed copy of the meeting confirmation.
Nothing confidential.
Derek waved it.
“This supposed appointment?”
Wendy said:
“Put that down.”
He tore it once.
Not fully.
Just enough to make a point.
Then again.
Wendy stared.
Derek crumpled the pieces.
Dropped them into the waste bin behind the desk.
“There.”
His confidence returned.
“Problem solved.”
Wendy looked at the trash.
Then at him.
“You destroyed a document bearing your founder’s office seal.”