Turn 57 of 233

Ask Murph if anyone's been asking about the naked construction lady. He says there is. It's Priya

Lena tears an onion ring in half with her teeth and chews and swallows and says, "Murph. Anyone been asking about me?"

Murph is wiping down the taps with a rag. He doesn't look up right away. He folds the rag once, then again, and drags it across the stainless steel in a slow line.

"Yeah," he says. "Actually, yeah."

"Who?"

Murph pauses. He sets the rag on the bar and leans forward on his forearms and looks at Lena directly.

"Woman came in last Tuesday. Professional type — blazer, heels, the whole thing. Didn't order a drink. Stood at the end of the bar for about ten minutes looking around like she was casing the place. Then she asks me if I know the, uh —" He clears his throat. "The naked construction lady. Her words."

Lena sets the onion ring down. The beer is cold in her hand and she doesn't drink it.

"Said her name was Priya," Murph continues. "Said she used to work with you. Said she just wanted to know if you came in here regular. I told her I don't give out customer information. She pushed — said it was important, said she was concerned — and I told her again. She left a card."

He reaches under the bar and pulls out a business card and slides it across the wood. Lena picks it up. The card is crisp and white with clean black text. Priya Anand, Senior HR Business Partner, and a phone number, and an email. The card smells faintly like perfume and Lena can picture Priya standing in Murph's bar in her blazer and heels, the same unreadable expression she wore in the lobby, scanning the room for the woman who used to sit at a desk under fluorescent lights.

"She came back Thursday," Murph says. "Same thing. Didn't order. Asked if you'd been in since Tuesday. I told her same thing — I don't discuss customers. She sat in that booth over there for about twenty minutes. Just sat there. Watching the door."

Lena looks at the card. She turns it over. The back is blank. She belches — short this time, almost involuntary — and sets the card on the bar next to her beer. Her mind is turning. Priya, who called her a fat slob. Priya, who documented her bare feet and her messy eating and her farting at her desk with security camera photos. Priya, who fired her. Priya, who is now sitting in Murph's bar twice in one week watching the door.

"She say what she wanted?"

"Said she wanted to talk to you," Murph says. "Said it was personal, not professional. That's the only reason I'm telling you. She didn't seem like she was here to cause trouble. She seemed —" He searches for the word. "Uncomfortable. Like she didn't know why she was here either."

Lena picks up the card again and looks at Priya's name and the title under it. Senior HR Business Partner. The woman who enforced workplace standards. The woman who told her that performance and conduct are separate metrics. Sitting in a bar twice in one week, not drinking, watching the door for the naked fat slob she fired. Lena farts against the barstool leather — a long, slow rumble — and drops the card into her shirt pocket, except she doesn't have a shirt pocket because she doesn't have a shirt. She puts it between her breasts where it sticks to the sweat and grime.