The Duet by Jennifer D'Angelo Read Free Book Online Page A

of the day anyway.
    I was put right to work. In fact, I wasn’t even shown around or introduced to anyone else in the office. I would later find out that there were two paralegals, but I wouldn’t be there long enough to remember their names. I would also later stumble across the bathroom, which had become a necessity by about two in the afternoon.
    The office was bustling, but quiet. Nobody spoke unless they had to; phone calls were made in hushed tones. Both Mr. and Mrs. McDonald, as I was forced to call them, since using first names was a sign of disrespect, had private offices on opposite sides of the sprawling work space, and their doors were usually closed.
    “Isabel!” Mrs. McDonald barked, startling me from the task at hand (attempting to figure out the intricate filing system without asking any of my helpful co-workers for assistance).
    “It’s Izzy,” I said, though the look it garnered made me wish I didn’t.
    “Whatever.” She waved her hand in the air, and actually stuck her nose up in the air. Nice touch. “I need you to call American Express and dispute these charges.” She tossed a file at me and retreated to her office.
    There were six months of statements in the file, all of which had more lines highlighted than not. I felt like I was up for the challenge, so I went ahead and dialed the customer service number, anxious to kick a little ass. I hated these big corporations who tried to get away with billing innocent small businesses all kinds of erroneous charges, thinking they would just pay without question.
    I waited on hold, listening to an elevator version of a Rolling Stones song. Twenty minutes went by. Mrs. McDonald poked her head out of her office three times to check my progress. Finally, in the middle of a stirring rendition of Smoke On the Water (who picked this music?), I was rewarded with a live person.
    “Thank you for calling American Express Small Business, may I help you?” a bored voice said.
    I stopped scribbling senseless characters on my desk blotter, and spread the offending statements out in front of me. “Yes, thank you. I would like to dispute some charges. There’s quite a few, actually.” I smirked a little, loving the sound of my superior attitude coming across nicely.
    “May I have the account number please?”
    I read her the digits, squirming in my seat. When this bitch realized we were on to their little scheme, she would be much less bored. In fact, she might even lose her job simply for having the poor luck of answering this particular call.
    “And is this Veronica McDonald I am speaking with?” She still sounded like she might drop into a nap any minute.
    “No, this is her assistant. I would like to start with the statement dated January…”
    “I’m sorry, ma’am. I do not show any authorized users on this account besides Ms. McDonald.”
    I was taken aback. “I’m not trying to use the card. I’m just calling to straighten out the bill.”
    “I am unable to speak with anyone regarding the account except for authorized users. Ma’am.”
    Cut it out with the ma’am. I didn’t like this woman. Not one bit. I didn’t even feel bad now if she was going to lose her job.
    “Is there anything else I can do for you today?”
    I thought of the amount of time I had to hold in order to get to this point, and all the crappy music I’d been subjected to during that wait, and I panicked. “Wait! Here is Mrs. McDonald now. Let me just put her on the phone.” I fumbled for the hold button, and waited a beat before picking back up.
    I made my voice sound firmer, more businesslike. In case they’d ever spoken to my boss before, they’d know she had a crisp demeanor.
    “This is Veronica McDonald,” I said, with a furtive glance toward the actual Veronica’s closed door.
    “Ah, yes, Ms. McDonald. For security purposes, would you please verify the address associated with your account?”
    “Certainly,” I said, proud of myself for pulling off this