Page 13 of The Trouble with Love and Ink
I winced at my phone, afraid I’d severed the olive branch by bringing up our argument. Then, it vibrated with a video call.
“Hey,” I said, answering.
“What happened?” Hailey asked, her nose and cheeks a tad pinker than normal and, overall, more freckly.
Though her complexion still couldn’t compare to the collection on my face and shoulders.
“Just work stuff,” I said before taking another bite of my sandwich.
“Tell me.”
I swallowed down the bite, trying to decide how to calmly relay the events back to Hailey. “Well, you know the promotion Wesley has been waving in front of me like a carrot?”
“Yeah?”
“They hired out,” I said, taking another chunk of sandwich to disguise the inevitable rising emotion.
“Are you fucking shitting me?”
I nearly choked on my sandwich. Hastily, I looked over my shoulder, double-checking that no one from the office had the same idea to eat lunch outside today. But it was just us.
Having another person on my side felt good, which led to me opening up and letting it all out. “The worst part? The guy they hired is an absolute waste of space. Today, I needed him to just pull up the notes that I handed to him, but did he have them ready? No!” My pulse quickened at the memory of facing Frank empty-handed because Beck had, what? Purposefully omitted my notes? “Forget senior-level associate. He’s more of a senior-level asshole.”
Hailey gave some sort of remark, but I didn’t hear her over the rush of my pulse in my ears as the aforementioned senior-level ass rounded the stairwell near me.
I eyed the paper bag in his hands.
Oh God.
He must have gone out for lunch. He didn’t slow as he passed me, but he did give a smug, almost imperceptible look as he headed toward the building.
He hadn’t heard me, had he?
“Emily, hello!” Hailey said, pulling my attention back to her. “What are we going to do about this? Cover his office in sticky notes? . . . No,” she said, answering herself. “That’s too tame.” She snapped her fingers. “We can hide a dead fish in his desk.”
“Wait. What are we talking about, and why do you sound like a member of the mafia?”
“Hazing the new guy until he quits. Keep up.”
I laughed. “We are not hazing anyone, Hailey.”
“He stole your job and is making your life miserable. He’s office enemy number one. He’s got to go. It’s called taking matters into your own hands.”
I smirked. “You know, a normal sister would just say, ‘I’m sorry about your job.’”
“No. I think any normal, loving sister would react this way. But I am sorry about your job. I really am. They don’t deserve you, Emily.”
I shrugged. “Them's the breaks.”
“Have you given what I said any thought?”
“The fish thing?”
“No.” She seemed suddenly very interested in something off-screen. She had a habit of tugging on the hem of whatever clothing covered her thighs when she felt nervous. “About taking over my business.”
The last thing I wanted was to shut Hailey down after just smoothing things over, but her idea sounded like something a preteen dreamed up: flowery and unrealistic. “I don’t know, Hailey. Work is just psychotic right now.”
Definitely not a lie, though not the only reason for my decline. Somehow, placing the blame on work seemed like cushioning the blow.
