The traffic was murder when Scott Sanders drove to work the next morning. When he finally arrived, he saw Melanie’s car in the parking lot and wondered why she was there so early. He looked at his watch, knowing she almost never made it in before nine. She didn’t usually begin to abide by the rules unless she was hoping for a raise. It had been a year since her last one, so he knew she was due for one, but there was no way he could afford it right now. As he rode up on the elevator he rehearsed several of the excuses he could give her when she asked him for it.
“Business is a little slow right now, Melanie. Or maybe, Sorry Melanie, but too many office expenses. Hey, I know,” he muttered to himself. “This old standby always works. Melanie, how can you—”
Just then, the doors slid open, and
