Watermind by M. M. Buckner

He live in Miami. Why you asking?”
    â€œHe was here in Baton Rouge. We worked together in the lab last night. He’s . . . well, not what I expected.” She rubbed the soft shoe leather till it gleamed. “He’s pretty smart.”
    â€œAw.” Max seemed to meditate over this news. He said nothing for a while.
    She slipped on her shoes. “So what do you think about him?”
    â€œI guess he’s rich,” Max said softly.
    â€œBut can I trust him? Does he mean what he says?”
    â€œCeegie, I gotta get back to work.”
    They agreed to meet later, and after she clicked off her phone, she sat on the edge of her bed for several minutes, feeling vexed and not knowing why.
Lather
    Â 
    Friday, March 11
    9:52 AM
    Â 
    The general aviation office occupied a new brick building near the south ramp of the Baton Rouge Metropolitan Airport, close to the private hangars. CJ waited alone in the passenger lounge, reading an article about hybrid aircraft. Rain pummeled the metal roof, and water writhed down the windowpanes like transparent snakes. She glanced at the clock. Her science team would land soon in the company’s Hawker jet, and she was supposed to chauffeur them to the plant and brief them.
    She hadn’t seen Roman that morning, but she’d met with Elaine Guidry. There were tax documents to complete, nondisclosure forms to sign, policy memos to read and abide by. Now that she’d become a full-fledged employee, the corporation wanted to bind and shackle her in paper.
    Waiting in the airport, she remembered how Elaine had rubbed her hands with lotion while they talked, how the lubricious white lather had foamed between Elaine’s plump fingers, and how her bracelets had clinked together.
    â€œMr. Sacony is giving you an extra special raise, sugar.” Elaine leaned across the desk, and her powder-blue sweater stretched across her full bosom. “You musta made a real nice impression.”
    I’m still free
, CJ wanted to shout.
    Thunder rumbled in the distance. The vinyl airport sofa squeaked every time she moved, and the vase of wilting tulips gave off a fusty reek. She snapped through the magazine as if she meant to rip out the pages.
    Through the window, she saw two people crossing the tarmac, leaning into the downpour and trailing identical black zipper bags on rollers. Her colleagues. The magazine slipped to the floor. She felt almost light-headed. Thiswas her first real job working with bonafide scientists on a project of consequence. She hadn’t yet acknowledged how much it meant to her. She wiped her sweaty hands on her skirt. Yes, she’d actually worn a skirt.
    Her soon-to-be collaborators were pushing through the glass doors, shaking their wet clothes, stamping their feet and looking grim. The first was a tall morose Asian woman, well over fifty, rail thin and boney, with an iron-gray braid coiled at the crown of her head. Even the pouring rain had failed to dislodge her long hairpins. That would be Li Qin Yue, the team leader, a specialist in petrochemical engineering.
    Behind her dawdled a lanky young blond man in a dripping black raincoat who squinted through thick fogged glasses. Peter Vaarveen, biochemist.
    CJ touched her short pony tail, took a deep breath and went to meet them. In her best Boston manner, she stood ramrod straight, greeted each of them by name, and offered her hand to shake. Quietly, she wondered who she was trying to impersonate.
    â€œI’m CJ Reilly,” she said. “So glad we’ll be working together.”
    Peter Vaarveen ignored her and made a beeline for the men’s room, while Li Qin Yue glanced briefly at her outstretched hand. “Where’s our car?”
    CJ stood rock still, holding out her hand, seething. Then she marched out to the rain-lashed parking lot, leaving them to follow as best they could.
    â€œFrankly, I can’t understand why Roman hired you,” Li Qin Yue said