Chapters (36)
- Cover
- Praise for Adriana Herrera
- Also by Adriana Herrera
- Blurb
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Chapter 1
- Chapter 2
- Chapter 3
- Chapter 4
- Chapter 5
- Chapter 6
- Chapter 7
- Chapter 8
- Chapter 9
- Chapter 10
- Chapter 11
- Chapter 12
- Chapter 13
- Chapter 14
- Chapter 15
- Chapter 16
- Chapter 17
- Chapter 18
- Chapter 19
- Chapter 20
- Chapter 21
- Chapter 22
- Chapter 23
- Chapter 24
- Chapter 25
- Chapter 26
- Epilogue
- Author’s Note
- Acknowledgments
- About the Author
I could already tell she’d be a good boss. From my experience in this kind of work, a sense of humor went a long way.
“You’re welcome. I’m glad to be here.” To my surprise, I really meant it.
“Good man. I like you already.” In a way, she reminded me of my dad. Bonnie had that same ever-present adventurous streak, with a glint of trouble brewing just under the surface.
“Desta, you’ll be in the cubicle next to Sam’s.” She lifted a hand to a row of cubes right in front of her office. “You’ll meet him tomorrow in Awassa.” The eye-rolling when she mentioned Sam was interesting. “He’s been there for a few days trying to meet some people and get some surveyors set up for you guys. He’s a bit of shithead—”
Awesome.
“—and he will most likely piss someone important off before this is all said and done. But he can run data like a wizard, and we’re hard up right now.”
I did not like the sound of that, and I was sure Bonnie could tell. She waved a finger in my direction, as if trying to contain whatever was happening on my face. “Your job will be to run these surveys and to be kind to the local staff. Because they’ll be busting their asses to get us the data we need, and you’ll need to overcompensate for the fact that the guy running the numbers is an asshole.”
I rolled my eyes and smiled at her directives. “You’re pretty good at giving shitty orders in ways one can’t say no to.”
She laughed as I fretted about Sam’s shithead ways. I could fake it ’til I made it with the best of them, but I had hard limits when it came to expats acting like assholes to the staff in the field offices.
“I’m sure I’ll be able to handle him,” I assured her. I’d been around enough to not put up with bullshit from overzealous dude-bros trying to show off. “So how will I get to Awassa?” I asked, trying to get the more practical details in order. “Will I get a car to drive down there, or will I have a driver?” I knew me driving would probably involve a visit to a local government office to sort out a driving permit, and wanted to get it cleared up if that were the case.