He said he was waiting for a fax that required an immediate response. Sheila played waitress. Why not? She’d asked for the meeting. She brought a tray from the caf: turkey club for Bill, vegetable lasagna for her. She was stiff from the accident and muscles she’d only seen in textbooks were killing her. Carrying the tray was no easy feat, but this would be the first lunch they’d ever eaten in private. She noticed how he closed the door behind her as she brought in the tray. She hoped this wouldn’t be awkward. The desk would serve as a barrier of sorts. Lately he’d made her uneasy. He used to be the center of her fantasies, but lately they were starting to flow elsewhere. To the man Bill had described as “blue collar.” Last night, when she’d been scared and lonely, she’d found herself wishing Paul were there, not Bill. “Now,” Bill said around a bite from his sandwich, “what’s on your mind?” Besides the fact that every muscle in my body feels like it went through a meat grinder and my life is in danger?
