Chelle
Shit, s**t s**t s**t!
I bang my palm against the safe at work. It’s eight on a Friday night, and I’m still in the office after a long day brainstorming advertising campaign ideas for a client’s luxury ring line. Janette left me to clean up the team’s mess, including putting the very expensive, one-of-a-kind designer ring back in the safe, but I can’t get the damn thing open.
I try Janette’s cell but it goes straight to voicemail. Of course it does. I totally remember her silencing it during the meeting. Crap. She may not turn it back on until tomorrow morning!
What am I supposed to do? I don’t feel comfortable leaving the ring here. I mean, I could hide it in my desk or something, but the janitor’s here, and if something happened to it, it would be on me.
No, it’s better to tak
