Free Epic Escape by Emily Evans Page A

these sheets.” The manager handed them each a pile. “Also, we still need volunteers for the corporate audit. Are you helping with the timelines or the metrics?”
    “No,” Riley said.
    She huffed out a sigh. “Fine. The auditors will be here in the morning, so no one, and I mean no one, leaves until all work is complete.”
    Chase glanced around with a frown, and strode toward the door.
    The manager frowned at him and pointed to four cubicles. The cubicles behind her displayed nameplates with their names on them: Chase, Veronica, and Riley. None read Megan . Megan stopped the manager. “Um, I’m Megan, where should I sit?”
    The manager pointed at a cubicle bearing Hetta on the nameplate. “We don’t use nicknames here.”
    “Megan isn’t a nickname, it’s my real name.”
    The manager stared pointedly at the stack of paper in Megan’s hands. “How many of those forms have you completed?”
    Megan didn’t answer.
    “And you’re worried about your nameplate?” The manager muttered under her breath but not so quietly that Megan couldn’t hear the words, “Overlarge ego.”
    Megan tried not to squirm. “Okay, yeah, sorry. I’ll finish.”
    “See that you do. We need that stack completed by five o’clock.”
    Chase jiggled the door handle. The handle wouldn’t budge, but he persisted, ignoring the manager standing over him.
    The manager said, “Take your break now if you must. I’m not saying no. But, of course, that means others will have to cover your pages.” The manager took the stack of papers Chase had tossed on the grey carpet. “Like I said, I’m not saying no . But I believe you will see it’s best if you all sit in your chairs.”
    Chase continued to ignore her so the manager turned on Megan, adding Chase’s papers to her pile. “A few more, Hetta. Keep them in order.”
    She left them, and Megan entered the cubicle marked Hetta . The hallway had been overheated, but here in the cubicle a vent whistled overhead and blew cold air straight down on her. She grabbed a pencil holder and put it on the stack so the top sheet wouldn’t fly off.
    Riley popped up over the wall separating her cube from Veronica’s and said, “Hey Hetta.” He sounded out dueling banjo chords and tapped a rhythm on the top of the cubicle wall. Megan tossed a pen at him and he disappeared, but she could hear him and Veronica through the wall as clearly as if they were sitting right beside her, which essentially they were.
    Veronica said, “We should get started.” Paper rustled until Riley tapped his fingers in a rhythmic sound. “Will you play something for me sometime?” Veronica asked him.
    “I don’t play.”
    “Yes you do.”
    “My brothers would kick my ass if I they caught me fooling around with music.”
    “For me?” Veronica asked. “Sometime?”
    “No.”
    “Please, I love your voice.”
    “Maybe.”
    Megan popped her head over the wall. “Did ya’ll see a vending machine? I’m thirsty.”
    The manager came out of her office. Riley, seated on Veronica’s counter top, ducked low, leaving Megan exposed, as if she were the tallest object in a field in the middle of an electrical storm. Heat covered her face again.
    The manager said, “Hetta, when you’re done doing--” she paused as if considering what Megan was doing, “ that . Ask Mr. Steve for the copier code. We’ll need those papers in duplicate, and I have to have signatures on each form.”
    Megan dropped back down. She left her cube and searched for a nameplate marked Mr. Steve . None of them bore that name. She stopped a woman in the hallway. “Um, excuse me. Hi. Where does Mr. Steve sit?” Evidently, there was something deeply offensive about her question because the woman glared at her, before she tugged at her tight dress, and wordlessly pointed at a gold nameplate on a wooden door.
    Okay, then. “ Thanks.” The grey carpet changed to wood flooring, indicating Mr. Steve’s elevated status. Megan adjusted the hem of