Chapter 2
I didn't wake up so much as get caught waking up. The marble had left a red crease on my cheek and my mouth was dry. The man in the velvet blazer was still leaning over the table, but he straightened a little when my eyelids fluttered. The two guards in black suits hadn't moved from the left and right, their hands clasped in front. The office was quiet except for the low hum of the air conditioning against the dark paneled walls.
He didn't snap at me. He slid the schedule paper back toward my hands, not pushing it under them again, just laying it flat where I could see the yellow highlights at 15:00 and 15:07. His voice was even.
"Maya," he said. "You been here since last night?"
I sat up too fast and the white cleaning cloth fell to the marble with a soft thump. My hair was stuck to one side of my face. I tried to smooth my black and white uniform and felt the heat crawl up my neck. The silver terminal was right there next to my elbow, its screen still lit.
"I'm sorry, sir, I just closed my eyes for a second," I said. My voice cracked.
One of the guards shifted his weight. The central man didn't look at him. He kept his eyes on me and then on the paper.
"You've got thirty-six hours on this sheet over three nights," he said. "That's not a second."
I stared at the header MAYA COLLINS. The yellow was brighter than I remembered. I thought about the county road apartment where my rent was due on the first and the diner shift I had picked up to cover it and how the office scheduler had called me at ten at night and said they needed coverage.
"I didn't mind the hours," I said. It was the one lie I could get out. Short, practiced.
He let a small pause sit there. The kind that makes you hear your own breathing.
"Did you sign for these?" he asked, tapping the highlighted rows.
I swallowed. "Someone said they needed help."
"Who said?"
That was the quiet call-out. Not loud. Just a finger on the paper where my signature should have been and wasn't.
I looked at the terminal and then back at his face. His beard was dark and his expression wasn't angry, just tired and concerned in a way that made it harder to lie.
"Please don't write me up," I said. That was the plea. One sentence, barely above a whisper.
He exhaled and finally stepped back, giving me air. He nodded to the guard on the right.
May you like
"Get the payroll log and the approval history for Olivia's code," he said. "Full week." Then to me, softer, "Maya, go to the break room. Get water. Don't go home yet. I need you to look at something when it prints."
He picked up the schedule and folded it once, creasing it cleanly. The guards didn't touch me. The door to the office was still closed, but I could see through the glass that someone in the hallway was already walking over with a stack of printouts, and my name was on the top sheet.
