Read Crossing Hathaway for Free Online

saw.”
    I smiled, shoulders slumping with relief. I didn’t have the heart to tell him about my photographic memory. I discovered the ability when Dad decided to humiliate me at Trivial Pursuit when I was seven. For weeks afterward, I’d studied the question cards and every bit of trivia I could find in books. I’d destroyed him in the very next game. We never played again.
    If Hathaway intended to battle me every step of the way, I’d play along. He’d lose. I’d gloat. “What does this have to do with IT, Mr. Hathaway?” I resisted the urge to whirl around long enough to see the expression on his face.
    He grunted, a clearly unhappy sound. “Must you question everything? I need an employee who considers detail as I do. Prove to me you’re observant, and you may work for me in Cameron’s place.”
    I rolled my eyes. “Fine.” Bring it.
    “Begin.”
    I turned to face the giant photo on the wall: A woman stood on a busy street, peering into a store window. Two beagle pups, a black lab, and an English bulldog stared back at her with grinning expressions and lolling tongues. My eyes absorbed even the smallest detail, from the crystal blue color of the sky, the cracks in the pavement, the names on the buildings, and even the clothing each person wore.
    The picture disappeared.
    Mr. Hathaway stood from the desk and paced in the dim light. “Are you ready?”
    I pressed my lips together. I’d do my victory dance later. Saluting, I said, “Yes, sir.”
    “How many years separated the two Los Angeles Olympics?”
    My stomach tied itself into a knot. “What? That’s not in the picture!”
    “I need to know you can retain what you saw while processing other information. Answer the question.”
    Huh. Wasn’t I lucky Dad was a jerk? Provided Mr. Hathaway asked me questions I’d seen before, I could pull it off. If he didn’t, I was so screwed. I closed my eyes and drew up the image of the Internet site I’d read that one from. I could see the words in my head as if I had the page in front of me. “Fifty-two.” Grinning, I stared at him.
    Mr. Hathaway stopped and glowered at me.
    I inspected my fingernails. Told you I’m not an idiot. “That’s right, isn’t it? Fifty-two years?”
    “In which European city is the Calouste Gulbenkian Museum?”
    A grin twitched on my lips. I knew that one without trying. “Lisbon.”
    His voice grew taut, a wire about to snap. “Which architect designed the Woolworth Building in New York city?”
    I paused for effect, catching another glimpse of the naked strip of flesh visible through his open shirt before I forced my gaze up to his shadow-filled eyes. “Gilbert Cass.”
    He wiped a hand down his face, though the action did nothing to wipe away the scowl that rearranged his features into something as close to ugly as an Adonis like him could get.
    The questions came in a steady stream until almost eleven, at which time my gut grouched about my having ignored snack time. I ended up cross-legged on the floor, lounging back against my elbows while he continued to pace the whole time, cursing to himself. My luck held. He must have looked up the trivia online, because I’d seen all of the questions before on one website or another.
    “Are you going to ask me about the picture now, Mr. Hathaway?” I asked out of sheer pique.
    He bent over the desk and propped himself up on his arms, head hanging forward as if exhaustion had smashed into him. “What was written on the English Bulldog’s tag?”
    Without so much as a second’s hesitation, I said, “Daisy. Anything else?”
    He slammed his hand on the desk and whirled around. I scrambled to my feet, choking on my pulse.
    “Where did you train?” An accusing finger jabbed in my direction.
    “Train? You mean, like high school?”
    “No, Ms. Ross. College. Where did you go to college?”
    “I-I didn’t. After high school I studied on my own and wrote the exams to get all of my Microsoft