Orientation (Book one in the Thelma Berns: My Internship in Hell series)

Thursday Morning

I arrived in my cubicle bleary-eyed the next morning. Gillian and I had stayed up late going over both the video and sound recordings of the extortion meeting. It was obvious how to find Jerry; we knew the name of his business and we could easily point police to that. But Horace was more difficult.

She had at least remembered how we knew the name Horace: he was the subject of the customer complaint letter that we'd translated from Monday's copier debacle. I'd resolved to come to work today and look through the employee directory.

I logged into my computer and read through my emails. I had a welcome letter from the CIO and there was a notice about someone who'd been promoted. Also, I had a meeting invite from Tonya for nine thirty. I glanced at the clock. I only had fifteen minutes.

Nervous, I tried to check my breath. It seemed okay. But I wanted to check how I looked, too. Going in to Tonya's office with lipstick on my teeth or my zipper down would not be good. I rushed out of my cubicle to head to the bathroom and ran headlong into Ning.

"Hey, watch where you're going," she said. It was another caffeine free morning, judging by the way her eyeballs weren't visible.

"Sorry," I said. I dodged around her to keep going, but that didn't stop her from shouting out that she expected me to return with her coffee.

Do all interns have to put up with this kind of thing?

I made it to the bathroom and inspected myself in the mirror. My hair looked terrible, as usual. I tried to pat it into place but it was having none of it. My makeup at least looked fine; it was all where it belonged even if it wasn't expertly applied. The zipper on my pants was up, and the top button buttoned. My blouse didn't have any stains on it and it was tucked in nice. Satisfied that I looked as good as I was going to look, I left the restroom and headed for the coffee station.

Ning's mug was in the dishwasher so I didn't have to wash it. I poured a cup from the pot that was sitting there – I hoped it had been recently brewed – and I took it back to Ning.

"What'd you do to Earl?" she asked.

"I don't know what you mean," I said, handing her the mug.

She took it and chugged half of it, even though I was sure it was at a flesh-dissolving temperature. She set the mug on her desk and sat still for about thirty seconds.

"You want me to come back later?" I asked.

"Shh. I'm waiting for the caffeine to hit me."

I tried to wait patiently. But I didn't want to be late for my meeting with Tonya. My time was dwindling. I glanced at my watch.

"That's rude," she said.

I shifted my eyes back to her. Her eyes still appeared to be shut.

Then there seemed to be a seismic shift and her eyes whipped open, and she looked . . . normal.

"Earl was here. He mumbled something about you, I couldn't understand what he said. Then he went into your cubicle and ran away. What are you, bothering the guy?"

"No," I said. "I wasn't expecting him to come over. I don't know why he would have."

"Be nice to him," she said, turning back to her coffee mug. "He's smart and we need him here."

I wondered if Ning had a little crush on Earl.

"Okay," I said. "But I've always been nice to him."

She nodded once and swung her chair around to her computer, dismissing me.

I retreated to my cubicle. There was a brown box on my chair. I glanced around. Was it from Horace? A wave of panic swept over me, followed by the prickle of sweat beginning to gather between my shoulder blades. I poked the box and jumped back. What if it was someone's head, like that movie about the serial killer? What if it was Gillian?