Blacklake-Book4-1 Three Cousins

Chapter 17
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Crita wrapped me in her gaze as I headed for my desk. I could see she was collectin’ paperwork off her desk as she clearly prepared to attack me for some thing or another. Is recognizin’ that kind of danger a particularly-ogre skill?

As I sat, she shoved a short stack of purchase orders at me. Scannin’ em, I noted the dollar amounts were only in the thousands. Didn’t she—

“Over my limit,” she said, “with ya and Kriz in the Valley. I’m not givin’ ya any reason to fire me.”

Odd thing to say. She’s the stinking boss of me. I peered up at her. Arms crossed under her ample bosom—today she wore a smock that plunged a bit deeper than usual—eyes arrow sharp on me like I might should offer the gods my last wishes.

“What? Fire ya?”

“Ya’re already down yar facility manager. World would fall apart without me.”

“Down my facility—what! What are ya talkin’ about?” Why would Daze—down? I sensed Crita’s shoulders tighten. “What’s going on?”

“Uknol says he gave her a five-word resignation written on a three-by-three stick-em, along with his keycard, and fob for his company truck.”

I stared at her. Daze. Quit? Who was gonna supervise our—the warehouse is gonna collapse. Crita mumbled something about closin’ my mouth. Mind must have decoded that, because I sensed my jaws clamp shut.

“I just spoke with him an hour ago,” I said. He didn’t even seem overly irate, for an ogre. Ripped me a new orifice without raisin’ his voice. He’s a good troll.

“Ya better fix this,” Crita said, unnecessarily. “In the meantime, sign my POs.” She pointed a shakin’ finger down at the sheets of paper.

Without lookin’ about the bull pen, I could sense every face studied me, because a pin could drop. I maybe would reconsider gettin’ my own office. The small conference room in the corner on the second floor would be perfect. It’s got a nice view of the trout creek.

“Well?” Crita hissed.

I knew she didn’t need these signed this instant—this was a power, or position thing, an excuse to get in my face, so pushed the forms aside and rose, headed for the warehouse. Was hard to ignore all those sets of eyes followin’ me as I passed through the bull pen.

The open space outside seemed quieter than usual. I looked about. Found Daze’s guys huddled in Shipping, prolly cacklin’ like hens. I strode to the office. No Daze. And no Thomas. Brought other issues to mind. Studied Daze’s cleared desk. Nothing much out of the ordinary, except one. The pictures of his folk that should have lined the hutch to the right were missin’.

~ Ezra ~

Maybe should have accepted Zarade’s offer to drive me over to Kriz’ place. I’d packed the box I was carryin’ with a lot of food. I was really hungry. But I don’t think my eyes were bigger than my stomach. And not like Kriz would have even a box of crackers in his kitchen.

I kicked his door. Good knock as any. Of course had to wait an hour—maybe thirty seconds—for Kriz to answer. Of course he didn’t offer to grab the box for me. Glowered at me, like I shoulda just come in. Woulda, if I’d had a free hand. Bad excuse. Maybe I expected he’d be waitin’ by the door for me. I carried food, afterall. He can’t be an ogre.

He disappeared in the dark. I need to teach the fool some manners. I slammed the door closed with my foot, harder than I needed to—the glass rattled good—and followed him. “Ya could turn on some lights,” I was half-finished shoutin’ when I had to blink as he turned on the kitchen lights. “Where’s Ike?” I asked.

“Ya—didn’t—drive?” he got out.

“Why would I do that? Yar place as close as mine,” I mumbled, slidin’ the big box onto his counter. Duh. I never bother drivin’ the thousand feet to the Inn. Even when there’s six feet of snow out. He knows that.

“Thomas—no car,” he said.

Yeah. Of course the fool doesn’t have a car. Hmm. Was expectin’ that Daze or Ike would bring him. Was dinner sposed to be just the three of us? I studied Kriz’ discombobulated expression. Could have been his usual irritated face, not wantin’ to go through the effort to explain himself. Prolly what it was. I opted to get food out on the counter. Was stinkin’ hungry.

Had about eight containers lined up when Kriz said, “Daze. Quit.”

“What do ya mean, Daze quit?”

Kriz was thumbin’ his phone, so I searched my deep pocket for mine, which was pingin’ before I got it out. Will never figger out how the idjit can text so fast with enormous ogre thumbs.

“Resigned. Offered Thomas a place to stay. For now. Isn’t going back to Ike’s. Ike should be at Daze’s by now. Don’t like all this nonsense.” Five separate texts. My little cousin felt out of sorts.

Way out of sorts. The idjit doesn’t like change, or the unexpected. “Why did Daze quit?” I grabbed a hunk of brisket to get something in my stomach before I died.

“Posturin’,” Kriz drew out the three syllables.

“Uh. Have no idea what that means,” I said after a hard swallow, and snatched another chunk of brisket. Kriz turned back to his phone.

“He loves his job. Idjitry he resigned. He’ll come back. But is makin a statement.”

Hmm. These cousins generate a lot of drama. I grabbed a tall glass out of the cabinet and poured a sweet tea from the gallon I brought. Wow. Tasted sweet compared to the spicy brisket.

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