Nickels Read online

  Nickels

  By Karen Baney

  Nickels

  By Karen Baney

  Copyright © 2011 by Karen Baney

  Cover Design by Karen Baney

  Cover Art from iStockPhoto

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, at the address below.

  Publisher:

  Karen Baney

  3281 E Joseph Way

  Gilbert, AZ 85295

  www.karenbaney.com

  Printed in the United States of America

  ISBN- 978-0-9835486-7-6

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  To my brother.

  Thanks for suggesting I get over

  my fear of computers. Never

  thought it would turn into a career.

  Chapter 1

  Niki’s blaring music suddenly muted through her car stereo as her phone rang. She glanced down to see who was calling. Marcy, her roommate and best friend. After their conversation this morning, she debated whether or not to let the call go to voicemail. On the third ring, she answered.

  “What’s up, Marcy?”

  “Hey, that guy I told you about this morning wants to go to dinner with you tonight. He’ll call you later for directions and to see where you want to go.”

  Niki groaned. What had Marcy gotten her into now?

  “I gotta run. I’ve got like thirty seconds to pick up lunch, scarf it down, and get back to my client’s office for a meeting.”

  “His name is Chad,” Marcy replied, ignoring her. “Be nice this time. I think he could be the one for you.”

  “I’m sure. Like the last two guys were?”

  Marcy blew out a frustrated sigh that echoed through the speakers of Niki’s car. “Just give him a chance.”

  “Where’d you find this guy anyway?”

  “A mutual friend gave me his number.”

  Niki frowned. Marcy was setting her up with a guy she never even met? “Gotta go. Later.” She punched the hang up button on her steering wheel to end the call.

  Of course, Carl—no Chad—would be “the one.” Marcy was always saying that. Blind dates sucked. Well, all dates sucked.

  With her twenty-sixth birthday just around the corner, she felt no urgency in finding love. Unfortunately, Marcy had different ideas for her. In January, Marcy made it her New Year’s resolution to find someone for Niki—which would be fine, if she had any intention of marrying—ever. But, she didn’t. Falling in love would only mean pain. Everyone she loved was ripped from her. Why would she want to go through that again?

  She tried to explain that to her roommate, but she just didn’t get it. How could she? Marcy’s parents were happily married and still alive. So was her brother. She had no idea what it was like to lose everyone she loved.

  Turning the music down, she pulled into a drive-thru and ordered chicken nuggets, yogurt, and a diet soda. Not the healthiest lunch, but she could eat the nuggets on the way back and have the yogurt after the meeting. Handing her debit card to the cashier, she waited impatiently for the transaction to complete. Snatching her card from the poor kid’s hand, she peeled out to show her annoyance.

  Ten minutes. She was going to be late. Brian hated it when she was late. But, after almost four years working for Brian at Elite Software, he should know it was a rare occurrence. Besides, this was a lessons learned meeting for a very successful project. Did she really need to sit through an hour of back-slapping and high-fives for a job well done?

  Stuffing the last chicken nugget in her mouth, she pulled into a parking spot in front Hamilton Production Solutions. As she grabbed her phone from the hands-free cradle, it rang. The caller ID said it was Brian.

  “In the parking lot,” she said, hanging up. She stuffed the phone into her purse. She reached for her laptop case, yogurt, and diet soda. Hands full, she juggled the items around until she had enough of one hand free to lock her car and open the building door. Drat! She forgot to switch out her shoes. Dashing back to her car, she set the soda and yogurt on the roof as she unarmed the car. Pulling her heels from the back seat, she placed them on the ground. Switching from her flip-flops to her heels only took a second. Then she flung the flip-flops in the back seat, armed her car, and loaded up all of her stuff again.

  It was so much harder to run in heels.

  Rushing to the elevator, she took it to the second floor, not wanting to try the stairs while laden with beverage, food, and computer. The elevator was slow. She tapped her foot rapidly on the tile, as if that would somehow make it faster. As soon as the doors flew open, she jumped in and pressed the button. A minute later, she was at her destination, standing in front of the conference room door.

  She took a deep breath to slow her heart rate before she entered the meeting—already in progress. As she opened the door, a few people glanced her way. Niki took a seat next to Brian, setting her armload of items on the table. She fished around in her purse to set her phone on stun and retrieved some lip gloss. Once she was settled, she turned her full attention toward the meeting.

  As she expected, the project team at Hamilton was extremely pleased with the fast delivery of the custom warehouse management software. They praised her coworker for his great project management skills, and then Doug, Niki, and Jake for their excellent coding.

  Funny how her whole career could be minimized into one word: coding. It irked her. What she did was so much more complicated than just coding or programming. Half the time, she helped the client define what they wanted. She learned their industry, made recommendations, helped outline the features of the software—all before writing one line of code. Then, when it came time to start the coding, her fingers blazed across the keyboard as her mind created the perfect solution to incorporate the client’s needs as well as some features they didn’t even know they wanted. Coding was just the means to a complete software product, not the end itself.

  Brian leaned over and whispered in her ear, “Good job, Tardy Turner.”

  Leave it to him to get in a quick jab. That was fine with Niki. Those jabs kept her sharp and tough in this predominately male field. She smiled sweetly at him, exaggeratedly batting her eyes to remind him of who he was dealing with.

  After the meeting concluded, Brian asked the team to tour the warehouse so he could get a few pictures for the website. She ate as much of her yogurt as she could before they reached the warehouse, which amounted to three bites. Tossing the rest, she slurped down the last of her soda. As they entered the warehouse, she rooted around in her purse for her lip gloss again. Just because she was wicked smart, didn’t mean she couldn’t look good in Brian’s shameless marketing photos. She ran a hand over her long ponytail and hoped it still looked perfect.

  By the time Brian finished with the tour and photo op, it was just a few minutes before five. Great. Traffic would be horrible from Scottsdale to her home in Chandler. At least she lived right off of the 101 freeway.

  She checked her phone for messages as she rushed back to her car.

  “Hi. It’s Chad. Just calling to get directions to your place so I can pick up you at 5:30. I’ll try back later.”

  Even if she didn’t have a problem with the guy picking her up, making it home by 5:30 would be impossi
ble even with Friday’s light traffic. When he called back she would just meet him—wherever. Maybe she should be thanking Brian for keeping her so late since it got her out of having her date pick her up.

  She smiled as she slid behind the wheel of her hybrid car. Turning the ignition on, it barely made a sound except for the loud volume of her music. As she backed out of the spot, she turned the car east towards the freeway ramp. Just after she merged into to traffic, her music muted as a call came through. She glanced at her phone. She didn’t recognize the number so she almost let it go to voicemail when she realized it might be Chad calling her. She tapped the button on the steering wheel to pick up the call.

  “Hello.”

  “Niki? It’s Chad.”

  “Hey.”

  “Can you give me directions to your place?”

  “No.” Niki cringed at her own harshness. Marcy would scold her for that one. “Sorry. It’s just that… I just got on the freeway from Scottsdale and I don’t think I’m going to make it home until almost six.”

  “Oh.”

  Great. Nothing like shooting down the poor guy before ever meeting him. Marcy would tell her it’s no wonder she’s still single.

  “Where did you want to go? I can meet you there. If it’s near the Chandler Mall, I can probably be there just after six—though you’ll have to put up with me in work clothes.”

  “That’s fine. How about Chili’s?”

  “Perfect. I’ll see you around six then.”

  Click.

  Her music flooded through the speakers again. With her full attention on the road, she moved over to the carpool lane. Thank you State of Arizona for letting hybrids ride in the carpool lane. That little law alone was the primary reason she bought the car.

  Even though Elite’s office was in Scottsdale, Niki commuted all over the Valley of the Sun to various clients. Sometimes she would spend months working out of downtown Phoenix. Other months she would work in Tempe, and like Hamilton, a good number of their clients were in Scottsdale, roughly thirty miles north of her home. With all the traveling, she needed a reliable, fuel efficient vehicle. The hybrid fit the bill—with the added bonus of getting to use the carpool lane.

  She cursed as some jerk cut her off. He waved at her with only one finger. The nerve of some people! She felt vindicated as traffic slowed south of the 202 and she flew past him. She resisted the temptation to return his kind wave.

  As she got closer to Ray Road, she started easing her way across three lanes of traffic so she could make the Chandler Boulevard exit, politely signaling at each lane. If only all the drivers on the road were so courteous. Within minutes from exiting the freeway, she whipped into the parking lot of the Chili’s to meet Carl. No, his name was Chad. She repeated it three more times in her head, hoping she would get it right.

  She checked her appearance in the vanity mirror, stuffed her phone in her purse, and checked the time. Five after. Perfect. Set his expectations low.

  As she neared the entrance of the restaurant, a short, dark-haired man stood waiting.

  “Niki?”

  This could not be her date. What was Marcy thinking? He was so far from her type.

  “Yes.” She forgot his name again.

  “I’m Chad.” He held out his hand. She took it and gave it a firm shake then he motioned her inside.

  “I hope you don’t mind, but I asked for an outdoor table.”

  Niki pulled out her phone and loaded up an app. While March in Arizona was the perfect temperature, allergies could be a problem. The app showed the pollen count was low. Good.

  “Outside would be just fine.” She smiled. He looked confused. By now he should be wondering what he’s gotten himself into.

  She kicked herself. Marcy said to be nice.

  “So, Chad, tell me what you do for a living?”

  “I’m an accountant for— ”

  “Chad, party of two,” the hostess interrupted.

  Niki could kiss the little teen for distracting her date from her not-so-very-well-hidden disdain. She hated—well, strongly disliked—bean counters. As a software engineer, she had but two arch nemeses: bean counters and sales people. By far, the worst of the two were bean counters. Every accountant or CFO for every client wielded the power to force her to do shoddy work. It’s not like they wanted her to do that—it’s just that they didn’t get how much custom software cost and how long it takes to build. They always, always set the budget much too low.

  Of course, Carl had to be an accountant. No, Chad.

  As she took her seat, she quickly grabbed the menu from the hostess, thankful for its large size. Maybe she could run to the restroom and text Doug to call her—giving her an excuse to run—run for her life. She started to sigh then quickly thought better of it. It turned into a sort of sigh-yawn.

  By the time the waitress came to take their drink orders, Niki already knew what she wanted. Well, she actually had that figured out about ten seconds after Chad named the restaurant. She would get the steak fajitas. Sadly, protocol dictated she must wait until after the drinks were delivered to place her order.

  When the waitress returned with her diet soda and his iced tea—of course he drank it unsweetened—Niki was about to blurt out her order when Chad suggested he might need a little more time. She lifted her straw to her lips to stifle the retort on the tip of her tongue. It’s Chili’s for Pete’s sake! Get a burger!

  She finished off her diet soda by the time the waitress came around again for their order. This time she shouted out her order the second the server asked. Chad still seemed uncertain, but finally managed to make a decision.

  “So,” Chad said. “You’re a software engineer?”

  She hated that tone of voice that implied she was a female software engineer. It’s not like this wasn’t the twenty-first century or anything.

  “Yes, and you’re an accountant.” The shortness in her tone hinted at her annoyance.

  “So…” Chad nervously fingered the paper napkin in his lap. “What do you like to do for fun?”

  Interesting tactic. Not that she had the first clue what fun was. On the Hamilton project, she was pulling eighty plus billable hours a week for a month straight. Fun wasn’t in her vocabulary. She had no idea how to respond.

  And when she was in this predicament, her sarcasm took over.

  “Sit around and memorize lines from Office Space.”

  “Really? I always thought that was a stereotype. Do software engineers really do that?”

  He can’t be serious. Maybe it was time to text Doug for a bail out. Better yet, she’d call him.

  “If you’ll excuse me.”

  Rising, she walked towards the restroom without explanation. Once inside, with a few taps of her finger, she dialed Doug.

  “Nik, what is it?” Doug answered the phone. “Please tell me everything is fine with Hamilton cause I can’t—”

  “Hamilton is fine. I need your help. You’ve got to rescue me from this awful date my roommate set up.”

  “Seriously, Nik? This is what you are calling me for?” His voice sounded angry. She could picture his thick eyebrows scrunching together.

  “Yes, and it’s Niki, not Nik.”

  A heavy exasperated sigh answered.

  “Come on, it’s really bad—”

  “Look, I’m on a date—first date in ages and it was going pretty good until you called. She’s really sweet, Nik. Can you imagine, a guy like me finally talking to a girl?”

  Niki held her breath as Doug paused.

  “Where are you calling me from anyway?”

  “Guess.”

  “Really, Nik, you have no cell phone etiquette do you?”

  “What was I—”

  “I’m not bailing you out this time. You know, it wouldn’t kill you to be friendly to the poor sap. Who knows, you might find out he’s not all that bad.”

  “But, he’s an accountant!”

  “What is wrong with you anyway? You don’t date cowor
kers. You don’t date clients. And when your roommate sets you up on a date you act like it’s the worst tragedy you’ve ever faced. I don’t get it. Why can’t you just try to meet a guy, fall madly in love, and raise a family? It’s what people our age do.”

  She couldn’t believe it. Besides Marcy, Doug was the closest friend she had. He was not going to bail her out. Instead he was lecturing her. Since when did Doug think like that?

  “Look, I’ve gotta go,” he said. “Good luck.”

  The line went dead and the backlight of her phone dimmed. She should have just texted him—at least then he would have called her and she could have made a break for it. Sighing, she threw her phone in her purse and exited the restroom.

  She could really use an app that sent scheduled text messages about now so she would have an excuse to leave. Maybe she would start writing such an app this evening. If Marcy was serious about finding her a man, she would probably end up using it a lot.

  As she sat back down at the table, she pasted a smile on her face. Within seconds, their food was delivered. Good. Now she had a reasonable excuse for limiting their conversation.

  “Can I make an observation?” Chad asked as Niki stuffed a bite full of fajitas in her mouth.

  She nodded.

  “When we spoke on the phone, you seemed different. More…”

  What was he talking about? The only time she spoke to him on the phone was in the car on the way here. Then the light dawned. Marcy.

  “Which phone call are you referring to?”

  “Yesterday evening. I thought we made a connection, but today you seem distracted. Did I do something wrong?”

  A little stab of guilt pierced her conscience. Perhaps she had treated him a bit unfairly. But, she needed to put a stop to this misunderstanding about said phone call.

  “Look, Carl—”

  “Chad.”

  “Right, Chad,” Niki corrected as she dug in her purse for her phone. With a few taps, she had a picture of Marcy on her screen. “I think this,” she said turning her phone towards him, “was who you spoke to on the phone.”