Missed Connections by Tamara Mataya Read Free Book Online Page B

Tokyo train commuter at rush hour. The receipt book is back on the desk, and I flip through to check if she’s done the whole book, but she’s only signed her name on each page. “Phyllis, you didn’t put your name or RMT number on these.”
    “No. I figured you could do that when you’re bored out here with nothing to do.”
    “Well…” This is a battle that seems worth fighting. “There really isn’t much time for me to be doing things that you’re supposed to be doing. Not with all my responsibilities and everything.”
    “What’s this about?” Ziggy’s voice behind me freezes me in my seat.
    “Oh, it’s nothing.” Phyllis smiles easily. “I was giving Sarah something else to do because she’s so productive and already caught up with everything else—including meeting Blake and spending some time getting to know him! She’s so efficient. Thanks, Sarah. It really helps me out.”
    “We’re all team players here.” Ziggy moves to refill his water bottle. “Glad to see you helping out, Sarah. I wish our last receptionist had had the same giving attitude. Doing the bare minimum around here isn’t acceptable.”
    Phyllis’s smug expression radiates my way while I process Ziggy’s client. I get away from Phyllis when I leave to set up Ziggy’s room. When I come out, she’s gone.
    She’s made me seem like the star of the show while railroading me into doing more of her work. Maybe she’s not as stunned as she looks.
    By the time I finish filling out her information in the receipt book, the load in the dryer is done, so I fold in between phone calls until my shoulders ache from more than just Phyllis’s massage. I definitely need to watch out for that one.

Chapter 6
    The bass line is hard and fast and thrums through me, loud and welcome after the soothing spa music that saturated my eardrums all week. I want a large glass of wine and to dance. And another glass while dancing. After that, I’ll wing it. Pulse by pulse, the minutes of the last few days fall from my shoulders. By the time I’ve reached the brushed chrome bar, I’m unable to stop shimmying my hips and bobbing my shoulders, despite sweating my makeup off.
    I pull my hair up off my neck and fan myself.
    “What can I get you?” Eighty-five degrees outside and not much better in here, and the bartender’s wearing a black suit jacket over her black bikini top. Her neck is covered in tattoos—a welcome sight after all the organic earth-mother types I’ve been around at work.
    “I’d like something scandalously red, please.”
    She grins. “I’ve got just the thing.” She pours me a glass. “Try this Syrah.”
    Syrah for Sarah, yes please. The dark, intense liquid caresses my tongue, leaving an almost peppery aftertaste. “Mmm, thank you.” I open my purse.
    She shakes her head. “You’re on Jack’s tab.”
    “Oh.” I tuck the twenty into her tip jar anyway.
    She grins and moves down the bar, and I head for our table in the VIP section, grinning when I see Kelly.
    I set my glass on the table. “This seat taken?”
    “Sarah!” The tiny woman jumps to her feet and wraps herself around me in a hug bigger than her platinum-blond Afro. I’ve missed this. Not being able to afford going out is bad for morale.
    “How are you?”
    She moves back, still holding my hand, and pulls me to sit beside her. “I’m great.” She fans herself. “Taking a break from dancing—the music’s hot tonight.”
    I sip my wine and grin as my song comes on—a Bowie remix that’s totally blown up this summer. The DJ booth is slightly to my left, up the stairs overlooking the dance floor, and Jack points at me when we make eye contact. He’s like having my very own jukebox with all the best, newest music and old favorites. “Jack’s the best.”
    “Totally. Where have you been? It’s been ages since I saw you out and about. I’ve missed your face.”
    “I know. I fell off the radar and have been crashing on Pete’s couch, but I