Chip Garrett, another CPA, worked in the tax department as well. He was in his early thirties, still single, and his desk was only two cubicles down from Ivan’s. Chip was one of the more sociable white guys at the office.

“Oh, yeah? Who for?” he asked Ivan.

The natural assumption was that, as an accountant, you did everything to benefit your clients, especially while at the office.

Ivan told him, “This is actually for me.”

That caused Chip to raise his eyebrow with interest.

“Oh, yeah? What kind of business?”

As more of the staff began to arrive at the office, Ivan told him, “I’ll tell you at lunchtime.” Everyone didn’t need to know.

Chip froze for a second before he nodded in agreement. What was Ivan up to?

“Oh, okay. I’ll see if we can take our lunch breaks around the same time then.”

“Yeah, I’ll see you then,” Ivan mumbled to him. He wanted to rush the credit card process and get back to work before anyone else could catch what he was doing online.

As soon as he had finished, Dwayne Bellamy, a middle manager, appeared behind him. Dwayne was one of the three African-Americans at the Hutch & Mitchell offices. The third was a filing secretary.

“Ivan, we have a tax staff meeting at ten this morning inside Conference Room B. Would you let everyone know for me?”

Ivan nodded to him. “All right.” He studied Dwayne as he walked back toward his office in a dark gray business suit. Dwayne’s office was small compared to the other offices, but at least it wasn’t a cubicle. He made over six figures in his managerial position. Nevertheless, the man seemed beat down and lifeless.

Shit, I don’t want to be like that when I get to his level. That brother acts like he could use a party, Ivan thought.

He got started on his work that morning on tax forms before his cell phone went off on vibration mode.

Ivan looked down to his hip at the number and recognized Catherine Boone’s.

Shit! I never called her last night. He panicked. Do I even answer it?

Out of courtesy, he decided he would. He planned not to mention anything about not calling her. He would let her bring it up instead.

“Hey, how are you doing? You’re on your way out already?”

“Yeah, I’m on my way to the airport now. How was the party last night?” she asked him.

“I couldn’t even get in,” Ivan admitted. “And I didn’t have Emilio’s number with me to call him.”

“Oh…so, what did you do?”

It was an awkward moment. Obviously he didn’t call to do anything with her.