Free The Next Thing on My List by Jill Smolinski

fifties, I’ d guess-graying at the temples, but hearty and hale. He could as easily be captaining a ship at sea as leading a traffic agency.

    ‘ Hi, Mr. Bigwood.’
    He held Bubba by the collar, squinting at me. ‘ It’ s June, right?’
    ‘ Yes.’
    ‘ How are things going in& publications, right?’
    ‘ That’ s right. Great, thanks.’
    I thought about saying ‘ Have a nice day’  and making a run for it, but he was staring at me curiously, stroking his chin in that way people do to show how very deep in thought they are. ‘ There’ s something different about you,’  he said. ‘ What is it?’
    ‘ Pardon me?’
    ‘ Is it your hair? Did you change your hair? I’ ve got three daughters, I’ m usually good at figuring out this sort of thing.’
    I shook my head noncommittally and he said, ‘ Nice work on the annual report, by the way.’
    Stunned that he had noticed my work, I could only say, ‘ Thank you.’
    He kept me standing there in the hall, chatting about ideas for future brochures. No one came by. It occurred to me he must be talking to me out of boredom, but he seemed genuinely interested in what I had to say. I wondered if he could see my nipples through my shirt. The hallway was a tad chilly-the sort of thing that tends to bring out the high beams. I used my mental powers to will my nipples to stay put.
    Bubba bumped into me again, sending me bouncing.
    Bigwood snapped his fingers. ‘ I’ ve got it! You’ re wearing flat shoes. So you look shorter.’
    Since I was, as always, wearing flats, I nodded.
    ‘ See,’  he boasted, ‘ I told you I’ m good at figuring this sort of thing out.’
    Bigwood’ s gaze then shifted to something behind me, and he suddenly looked alarmed. ‘ Is that clock right?’
    I turned around. One-fifteen. ‘ Maybe a minute or two fast,’  I said.

    ‘ June, I need your help,’  he said urgently. ‘ I’ m due at a meeting in Long Beach in thirty minutes. I can’ t be late. I need you to come with me so I can use the carpool lane.’  He turned without giving me a chance to reply and nearly sprinted down the hall. Bubba barreled after him. ‘ At the elevators in two minutes!’
    Talk about being wanted for your body.
    The meeting, he explained as we climbed into his convertible, was at S.C. Electric, whom he hoped to bring on as a corporate funder. ‘ It’ s a long shot-those cheap bastards. But I’ ll do what I can to squeeze a few bucks out of them.’
    I held a notebook I’ d grabbed off my desk clutched to my chest-why hadn’ t I brought a backup bra? This would surely qualify as an undergarment emergency. I could’ ve tried another day for my task.
    We cruised along in the carpool lane at speeds reaching a hundred miles per hour. ‘ Look at that!’  Bigwood exclaimed, tipping his head toward the regular freeway lanes. Even in the middle of the day, they were packed with traffic. ‘ This is why we do the good work we do!’
    I’ d sort of taken it as a sign that we weren’ t doing such good work.
    We arrived in one piece and parked. Bigwood led me into the offices of S.C. Electric with seconds to spare. I expected him to deposit me in the lobby to wait, but instead he insisted I join him. ‘ This is how you learn,’  he said in a tone that I suspected he often used with his daughters.
    Two women and two men already sat at a conference table. Bigwood introduced me as his associate in charge of marketing-a lovely, albeit temporary, promotion to Lizbeth’ s job-and went on to bluntly explain why S.C. Electric should give us money.
    The proposition, for all its snappy delivery, went down in flames from the beginning.
    And then, surprisingly, came my moment.

    Even looking back, I couldn’ t say if it was Bigwood wanting to give me an opportunity to prove myself or him deciding, as long as he was leaping from the plane, that he’ d grab me to cushion the fall.
    The S.C. Electric people had responded plainly that they couldn’ t