“On Saturday, I left the card here. It was signed.”

The short Italian man with the thinning white hair and the small bald spot in the middle laughed. “And I suppose it just vanished?”

“How would I know, Fabrizio? Why would I lie? I left it right here on Saturday because I wanted you to check it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Carlos noticed the young dark-haired Greek woman who had just walked in, firing off a string of automatic “good mornings” to everyone in the room.

“Maybe Evi knows,” he said with a smirk.

Evi dropped her bag on the floor beside her desk with a thud, muttered something in Greek under her breath, and turned around. “Yes?” she said. It was still a frickinng Monday, and it hadn’t even properly begun.

“Evi, did you happen to see a yellow card on Fabrizio’s desk?” Carlos asked.

“Should I sniff my nails*?” she muttered quietly. Then she turned to the short, brown-haired man. “No. Why would I have seen it? I don’t remember working weekends. But if you tell me what it’s about, I can help you look for it.” She slipped off her jacket as she spoke.

“Ah, all right. Tell Evi, and when you find it, let me know,” the Italian said and headed toward his office. One less thing for him to deal with.

Evi turned back to her things, tidying up before opening her laptop.

“You didn’t say welcome back, though. Where were you?” Carlos asked playfully, walking over to her.

Evi smiled. “On vacation,” she replied, quickly typing in the complicated password: capital letter, lowercase letters, numbers, special characters. “Where were you?” She glanced at him. “Welcome back, by the way.”

“I was on vacation. You were the one who disappeared.”

“Says who,” Evi smiled. She knew Carlos. Not personally, but she got the type. She had never in her life, seen such a womanizer in a company, girlfriend and all, still prowling around, staring down every young female employee in sight.

Her eye caught a familiar figure walking past toward the exit.

“Oh, José!” she called.

The tall man turned at the sound of his name.

Evi smiled. “Can I ask you a favor?”

José raised his eyebrows, the familiar lines appearing on his forehead. “Of course you can.”

“Wait. Since when do you ask Fidalgo for favors, and since when is he ‘José’?” Carlos cut in.

Evi snorted. “Since always? Isn’t that his name?”

José shook his head. “Don’t mind him. Just because most people call me by my last name doesn’t mean I don’t have a first one. Tell me.”

“Can you open the toolbox for me? I need a cutter to snip some tie-wraps so I can help set up the parts area for the new client.”

“Yes, of course. Come with me.”

Carlos threw his hands up. “Would you look at that. I don’t even get a ‘welcome back,’ and Fidalgo is suddenly ‘José,’” he said loudly.

Evi ignored him and stepped out into the warehouse. Fidalgo followed. “Oh, by the way,” Evi said, pulling on the company’s fluorescent jacket, “if you can, let the others know there’s a company party here next week.”

Fidalgo nodded and tapped his card on the tool cabinet. A female robotic voice granted him access; the drawer clicked open and he grabbed a cutter.

“What company party? Usually we contractors aren’t allowed to go to those.” He held the cutter out to Evi, handle first.

“Yeah,” Evi said, taking it. “Thanks. But this time it’s for everyone. Street only, and everyone’s invited. There’s a barcode stuck on the fridge in the kitchen. If anyone can’t scan it, tell them to come to me and I’ll do it for them.”

“Okay. I’ll tell the others.” José closed the drawer. “When is it?”

“Next Friday.” Evi stepped back. She lifted the cutter slightly. “I’ll bring this back when I’m done.”

*"Sniff my nails" (Greek: πρέπει να μυρίσω τα νύχια μου / prépi na miríso ta níhia mu) is an idiom meaning "how would I know?" or "I have no idea".