MIXED SIGNALS

This asshole in the Beemer kept following me as I pulled off the

interstate and went down the back roads to the office.

And then pulled into my parking lot at work.

He parked in a spot right by the main door. The spot that said

"Reserved for the Vice President of Marketing."

I was the new marketing assistant.

Oh, shit.

The asshole in the Beemer was my boss. Mark.

* * *

All I was trying to do was get to work on time. The damn turnpike is

always crowded, but there's always someone at the front of the line who

will let me in. A $50,000 contract at work was at stake; if I was late and lost

the client, I'd lose my job.

I drove up past the 40 or so cars in line and figured I'd edge in. And

then I saw Lindsay, the new marketing assistant, in her little red compact

car. Damn. It's like the universe read my mind. Just this morning the alarm