Unplugged
“I was in over my head. I didn’t have a clue what I was doing, and I didn’t even like Solberg. In fact, I detested Solberg. Elaine would get over him, just like she’d gotten over the measles in second grade.“Ms. McMullen?” Emery Black, executive supervisor, rose to his feet as I entered his office. Reaching across his desk, he offered his hand. We shook once. Solberg’s boss had a handshake like the Terminator.“Yes. Thank you for seeing me,” I said, and sounded, I thought, perfectly sane. But the...n, I was wearing taupe. Taupe blouse, taupe skirt, taupe shoes. You can’t get more sane than taupe, even if you’re wearing strappy little sandals with three-inch heels and spend your time panting across people’s lawns for no good reason.Emery Black’s office was large and bright, awash in natu-ral light. But then, it would be. NeoTech, Inc., was basically a glass pyramid, noted by architects from L.A. to Boston for its innovative design. Or so said the receptionist, with whom I had spent an informative five minutes.Unfortunately, she had known more about architecture than she had about Solberg’s absence.I glanced around the palatial office.MoreLess
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