A Different Kind of Us

Chapter 1

It was pouring rain when she drove into the office parking lot on her first day. It was one of those humid summer rainstorms, the kind that make everything smell like steam and tar. She'd been waiting for it from the moment she'd stepped outside her parents' house at seven thirty that morning, her new Nine West flats already giving her blisters. Now, an hour later, she sat in her car and wondered if the rain was a premonition--if it meant bad things at this new job.

Her new office was inside an 11-story corporate building on Lenox Road, not far off Peachtree Street. She gazed up at it: it looked like one of those fat cube-shaped LEGOs her brother had always favored, except for its dull gray color. Bad morning weather, shoes that cut her feet, boring-looking workplace: her professional life felt mundane already.

The inside of the building was pristine. Clinical. The kind of space where things echoed far too loudly. She could hear the clacking of heels even though no one else was there yet. That's the kind of building it was.

In the elevator, on the way up to the 11th floor, she flattened her hair and squared her shoulders. She was a professional now and she refused to be ruffled by uncomfortable shoes or ill-timed summer weather. After all, had she not just graduated from law school, top of her class from the University of Tennessee? Had she not just passed the bar exam? Had she not just landed a position here at Cyntera, one of the fastest growing technology companies in Atlanta?

She had damn well done all those things. She had worked her ass off and proven herself over the last few years, and now, today, she was launching a promising career. She had arrived.

She had arrived too early. Her anxiety for the first day had spurred her out of bed an hour earlier than she had planned on waking up. Now she had to stand here outside this locked office, like a little kid waiting for mommy to open the door, squeezing rainwater out of her hair and rubbing her fingers under her eyes to smooth away mascara runs.

Her heart lurched when she heard the elevator ding. A middle-aged guy stepped off and slumped toward the office, drawing a ring of keys from the pocket of his slacks. He glanced at her, but then his eyes moved lazily to the office door.  

"Hi," she said, adopting her falsely confident voice. "I'm Sutton. I'm a new associate in the legal department."

The guy turned the key in the door without looking at her. After a beat, he said, "You working with Wyatt?" His voice was flat, disinterested.

"Er--does Wyatt work in legal?"

The man took another long beat to answer. "He does."

"Then I'm sure I'll meet him."

The man finally looked at her, his expression as flat as his tone. Another beat passed before he spoke. "You should keep an umbrella in your car," he said. Then he pushed the door open and strode inside without inviting her in. After a moment of hesitation, she followed him.

She was actually relieved when her boss showed up. Marta was the only person she already knew--or kind of knew, since she went to church with her parents. She had an easygoing manner and big gums that stretched when she smiled. Sutton was catching a glimpse of them right now.

"So you met On-Delay?" Marta asked, settling her work tote and thermos and Chick-fil-A bag on her desk while Sutton stood in front of her, trying hard not to look too eager.

"Pardon?"

"You met Craig? The short guy? Doesn't speak much? Always the first one here?"

"Oh--yeah. He was--er--nice. What did you say his last name is?"

Marta gave a short bark of a laugh. "On-Delay's not his last name. That's just what we call him. Because every time he speaks, there's a delay. Get it?"