Chapter Text
“I will call when I am ready to be picked up, Kevin. Don’t expect it to be anytime soon. They are probably running around like chickens with their heads cut off just because I am a smidge late.” Cat glances at her watch. She supposes 2 hours might be more than a smidge late.
“I will be here whenever you are ready, Ms. Grant.” Her driver closes the door behind her. By the time he is back behind the wheel, Cat is halfway through the front doors of CatCo.
Cat tosses a cursory “Thank you, Devin” at the night security guard jogs over to swipe her into her private elevator. As she presses the button for the top floor, it crosses her mind that her driver might be named Devin and the security guard might be named Kevin. Oh well, close enough.
She leaves the elevator, and it takes her a moment to realize that the only person left in the office is that idiot with the absurd red hair. He seems to be shoveling some sort of foul-smelling food into his mouth from a Tupperware container. Does he even realize how ridiculous he looks?
“Hi…errrllo, Ms. G-Grant! I didn’t know anyone was coming back...Wh-Wha-What are you doing here?”
“My office is on this floor. Which I own. Along with the rest of this building, and majority shares of the company. For. Which. You. Work.” Cat proudly restrains herself from commenting on his inability to even manage a simple hello without inventing a new word.
“The real question is why the rest of my staff is not here when the layout of the Tribune has not been finished in addition to the final layout for National City Weekly. It is due at the printer’s by midnight, which is in,” Cat glances at her watch, “less than four hours.”
He stands there, gaping at her. She can’t tell whether he is going to vomit, wet himself, or just respond to her rather simple inquiry.
“That was not a rhetorical question. Where is my staff?” She is mentally calculating how many people she can fire before that woman in HR starts giving her trouble.
“Well… Um…”
“Breathe. Think. Speak.” Cat resists tapping her foot, while the man’s face slowly returns to a shade of red only marginally less absurd than his hair.
“Well everyone finished up their parts of the layouts around 6 like we usually do…and we gave everything to Kara like we usually do…and everyone left like they usually do once they give Kara their articles or pictures or classified section or ad formats or-“
Cat cuts him off with a wave. “I think I get the point. They all finished and left. That still leaves me with two questions. First, if everyone had done their job, as you claim, why is it that I do not have two finished layouts in my hand?”
“I-I think Kara mentioned something about… um…maybe…sending you some texts? Maybe? I could be wrong. I tend to be wrong. I should really reevaluate some of my life choices…”
Cat stops paying attention to his spiral as she pulls out her phone, seeing she has eight missed texts. Didn’t Kara learn about brevity when she was earning her Journalism degree?
My Assistant (5:45 pm): Hi Ms. Grant! I know you are probably still having dinner with Carter, but I just figured you would want an update on the layouts since you are usually here by now. Not that you have to be here at a certain time, you are the boss! Anyway, everything is on schedule. The classifieds, sports, and local sections are all ready for the Tribune. I had James look over the formatting, so I think they are ready to go (pending your final approval of course!).
My Assistant (5:55 pm): All of the ad pages are ready for the Weekly! Oh, and the National section is finally in, so tomorrow’s edition of the Tribune is ready to go, once you have a chance to look it over, of course. I caught a few typos that copy-editing must have missed. I think I caught everything, but you always see things I miss so…
My Assistant (5:59 pm): James had to tweak some things for the Weekly’s layout, but he said the article order from this morning’s meeting still works. I think the Weekly is ready to go!
My Assistant (6:03 pm): I’m sorry! I lied! I found another typo! But I fixed it! I’m going to go ahead and put these layouts on your desk so they are ready when you are!
Cat stops reading Kara’s texts (or maybe it is her personal diary, she can’t really tell) long enough to find the books for the Tribune and the Weekly on her desk. Her spare glasses are sitting on top of them. She manages to finish skimming through half of the Tribune when she sees that the redheaded idiot is just standing there staring at her. “Why are you still staring at me?”
“I thought you had…um…a second question for me?”
Cat looks at him over her glasses, taking note of his container full of food, the cartoon paused on his laptop screen, and the pillow sitting under his desk.
“Ah, yes. I was going to ask you why you were still in the office. Clearly, it isn’t because of your work ethic and can-do attitude. I’m sure you aren’t so stupid to think you would be able to get away with living in the office. You may go home to your mother’s basement now.” Cat waves him away with a flick of her wrist before she finishes glancing through the Tribune and the Weekly.
Both of the finished products are surprisingly…finished. She didn’t find any typos or grammatical errors. She always can find a grammatical error. I’m sure it is just because I’m not taking the time I usually do. Cat returns to reading Kara’s texts.
My Assistant (6:15 pm): Is everything ok? I know you are probably just having a long dinner with Carter, but you always get here at 5:30 on the dot on Thursdays to wrangle the headless chickens. I know Carter had to give that presentation in English today. That didn’t stress him out too much, did it? I’m sure he did fine. He must have practiced that thing a thousand times.
My Assistant (6:31 pm): I just remembered that Carter made his presentation on his MacBook! Did he have compatibility issues? Do the school computers only run Windows programs? I knew I should have sent him with a VGA adapter. I am soooooo sorry Cat.
My Assistant (6:33 pm): I’m sure you are staying home with Carter. I’ll just send both layouts to your email. I’ll hang out here to fix whatever you find. Just let me know! (Again, super sorry for not thinking about getting Carter a VGA adapter!)
My Assistant (7:05 pm): So I emailed myself the layouts too, just in case. If I don’t hear from you by 11:50 pm, I will go ahead and send them to the printer. I hope everything is alright…I think I’m going to head home since it is just me and Chuckie left here, and he is starting to microwave some really weird looking leftovers. I think he might be living here. If you need me back in the office, just call/text me back. I can get there in ten minutes tops!
“Siri, call My Assistant.”
As Cat listening to the dial tone, she can’t help but smile and think that Kara didn’t need ten minutes to get to the office; she could probably get there faster than the speed of sound if she were so inclined. No she couldn’t. Supergirl could. Kara was not Supergirl. Kara and Supergirl were two discreet people. Kara is not Superg-
“Ms. Grant! I am so happy to hear from you? Is everything ok? How is Carter? Can you tell him I’m sorry about his presentation? Are you still at home? Can you see the layout ok on your computer? I know you prefer to see the physical book. I should have brought it over. Do you want me to bring you the books right now? I can grab them from the office and get to your building in 20 minutes. I would be there by 8:00 at the latest. I’ll head back right now-“
“Kiera, breathe. I’m leaving the office now, and I already looked over the books. Carter didn’t even have his presentation today; they had to split the presentations over two days. Nothing is wrong, I simply lost track of time. Carter was rather excited about some heroic feat that Supergirl pulled off this afternoon. Apparently the school let them watch live as she saved a kitten or something. I’m sure you heard about it, James had a picture of the daring rescue above the fold. If I recall, he managed to capture the exploding tanker truck and small child she was carrying. Personally, I thought it was a little hard to see the kitten on her shoulder, but I suppose the picture will have to do.”
“Oh! I’m so glad you are all right! I don’t know why I was so freaked out. It’s not like there is a small chance that you both are being used as bait by a sociopathic tech billionaire…” Kara’s last sentence is drowned out by a loud cheer.
“What did you just say? And why is it so noisy? According to your five thousandth text, you were heading back to your apartment.”
“ Welcome to McHale’s !”
“Oh sorry! I’m just, um, grabbing a burger before I head home. The restaurant is a bit rowdy. Anyway, I can head to the office now to add your edits to the digital copy. I should be able to send it to the printer by 9:00, easy.”
“Don’t bother, Kiera. Both books were acceptable enough. I already forwarded your email to the printer. Make sure my latte is a double tomorrow.” Cat hangs up and gets on the elevator. McHale’s is that bar down the street isn’t it? She feels like she should at least pay for her assistant’s dinner after she handled covering for her so well. Cat exits the elevator, and the night guard opens the door for her.
“Thank you, Kevin.”
On second thought, Cat isn’t sure whether he is even the same guard from earlier. Oh well, she tried. It’s a short 2-block walk to the pub, which she assumes her employees must frequent after work. Then again, they tend leave CatCo and its immediate vicinity as quickly as possible to avoid being called back in. A group of college students pile into the open door, through which Cat can see that the bar is packed-especially since there isn’t a game that night. Once of them almost knocks over the chalkboard sign on the sidewalk, leaving the green chalk smudged, so Cat can barely make out the message: Open Mic Night.