Crossing Hathaway by Jocelyn Adams

toilet or something. “Installed or just recommended?”
    “The proposal only.”
    I moved closer to the humming bank of servers in the cabinet, concentrating on the equipment instead of his nearness and the way his pants hugged what I imagined to be a fine, firm ass. “I’ll start an inventory of your hardware now. That’ll probably take an hour or so. After that, I can spend the afternoon doing some research for the latest and greatest in video camera solutions and call up our regular suppliers. As long as they’re prompt with their replies, I should be able to have something for you tomorrow.”
    “Good. I’ll expect it by noon tomorrow then.”
    My stomach flip-flopped. I hoped I hadn’t shot myself in the foot with that deadline.
    He started for the door. “I have some work to do. If you need any supplies, talk to Brent.”
    “I don’t need to write anything down.” I tapped my temple. “I just need a soda. Is there a vending machine on this floor?” I didn’t think well on so little sleep. Caffeine made me loopy, but to get his task done, I’d risk turning into a psychotic humming bird.
    He pointed to a small stainless steel cabinet under the long counter beneath the wall of monitors. “Help yourself.”
    “Uh … thanks.”
    God, I stammered on like a total moron. I seriously needed a pick-me-up.
    With a nod, Mr. Hathaway exited and shut the door behind him. I didn’t know whether to jump for joy or be terrified. Something told me he wasn’t easily impressed.
    I opened the door of the cabinet and discovered a small bar fridge inside. Tidy rows of Coke and root beer populated the first shelf. I reached for a Coke first, but a familiar can in the door caught my eye. Little warnings shouted from the back of my mind, but I ignored them and reached for the Red Bull. I gulped it down and got to work inspecting the contents of the computer cabinet.

    * * * *

    By the time I finished looking over the equipment in the surveillance office, the caffeine buzzed through my body like a bad acid trip. I tried pacing to slow my heart rate and burn off some of the excess energy, but it only made the rainbow ripples overlaying my vision that much brighter. If Mr. Hathaway found me that hyper, he’d probably send me off to a drug treatment program or the company shrink. Walking would help.
    I needed to check out the physical cameras, anyway, so I took note of their locations from the schematic on the wall by the door and set off to make sure they were all the same model.
    Instead of taking the elevator, I galloped down the stairs to the nineteenth floor and examined the three cameras there, humming to myself and prancing from foot to foot whenever I had to stop. All of the models were different. Just marvy. That meant I’d have to check all eighty of them to see which ones could be salvaged. As long as I kept myself moving, the caffeine high wouldn’t turn me into a giggling idiot and have me swinging from the nearest light fixture.
    Forty-five minutes later, I made it back to my floor. Parched and jittery, I slipped into the lunchroom and bought a muffin and a bottle of water from the vending machine. Sitting wasn’t an option, so I leaned against the counter to eat my treat.
    “Hey, Eva,” said a mellow voice.
    My thoughts must have been off in la-la land, because I jerked so badly I choked on my muffin and my water flew out of my hand and gurgled out all over the linoleum. Gawd, why me?
    Dave from Quality Control stooped to pick up the bottle, flashing a large grin from within his black goatee. He had that upside down triangular body that body builders and gymnasts had, though I couldn’t imagine him doing either. According to everyone else he was a total online gaming junky who lived on pizza and wine coolers. Weirdo.
    I set the crushed remains of my muffin on the counter and unraveled some paper towels to mop up the mess.
    “You scared the hell out of me,” I said through an exhale.
    “Yeah, I