Jack was not whistling. In fact, he hadn't even felt like turning the radio on for days. He'd cleaned the gremlins out of everything and he really didn't think they'd be back again. Getting rid of the smell of fried gremlin from the office had taken the steady application of Lysol spray, and even now he thought he could still catch a faint, sulphurous whiff from time to time. Other than that, he concentrated on working. It kept him from thinking about Rhea. He'd thought he knew her, knew her well enough to know that she loved him as much as he loved her—but this was like Carol all over again.
He closed down the diagram he was working on and marked it done. It was solid if not inspired.
"Jack."
He whirled in his chair. It was Rhea. "Yes?" he said shortly.
She stood in the doorway, not coming into the office. The hall lights lit her in outline. God, she's beautiful, he thought. "We've got to bump the schedule up," she said.
Okay, if she wanted to play it all business, he was happy to play along. The schedule was already tight, though. "How much?" he asked.
"Two weeks," she said.
He leaned back in his chair. "Impossible," he said. "Can't be done."
Rhea stepped into the room. "It has to be done," she said softly. "TRITEL is pulling out, retroactively. If we can't get the bird up in two weeks, it's never going to fly."
"I used to think I could do the impossible," Jack said. "Maybe I was motivated then. But I tell you right now that the schedule I gave you is the absolute best we can do, and it's barely possible." He crossed his arms on his chest. "And if you don't like my pace, I can always go to Rockwell." He regretted the words as he was saying them, but he wasn't going to back down.
Rhea flinched as though he had hit her and her hands tightened into fists. "You've got a contract," she said. "With a two weeks' notice clause. You're not going anywhere."
"If you want to spend money from a bankrupt company suing me, that's fine. But the only contracts I worry about are signed in blood." She flinched again. Yeah, he'd known she would. "You're going to have a hell of a time enforcing my contract."
"I need it in two weeks, Halloran," Rhea said. How she stomped out barefooted he didn't know, but she managed, and slammed the door behind her.
Jack rubbed his eyes tiredly. "Halloran," he said to himself, "you have really put your foot in it now." He didn't like being angry—it burned off IQ points faster than attending tractor pulls.
He didn't want to leave Celestial. Even if Rhea were shutting him out; there was still the dream. Anywhere else, he could only make money. Here he could make history.
Screw history. Here he could touch the stars.
He took a deep breath and pulled himself together. Two weeks. He had two weeks, and a stack of gotta-haves to go through. In how many places could he replace custom rigs with two-dollar radios?