Page 14 of The Trouble with Love and Ink
“It always is.” Hailey stopped playing with her hem. She looked into my eyes with newfound righteous indignation. “Which is kind of my point. You have busted your balls for that company for years, and they still haven’t promoted you. Even after you carried the team with the last go-live.”
“You’ve only heard my side of the story. You’re biased,” I said, balling up the foil from my sandwich.
“No. I know you, Emily. You are a perfectionist. You don’t half-ass anything. When you do something, you are committed. Maybe it’s time you take your talent elsewhere.” She looked at me pointedly. “I’d love to see what you can do with Lettering Lane,” she added with a playful, lilting voice.
“Is that the name of your company?” I asked, delighted by the not-so-subtle placement of our last name.
Hailey blushed. “Yeah. I know. It’s a little cheesy.”
“I kind of love it.”
She smiled brilliantly at the compliment.
“Hailey, I have to be honest. I’m jealous. I can’t believe you did it—started a calligraphy business. You’re so fearless.” She tried to wave me off, but I kept going. “No. Seriously. I wish I could be more like you.”
“Now’s your chance.” She looked at me through her long lashes, daring me.
“Hailey—”
“Run my business. Try on my life for a bit.”
“It’s just—” Messy, risky. “Complicated.” The thought of losing my benefits alone turned a few of my hairs gray.
“Please, at least consider it. If not taking over Lettering Lane, at least apply for a different job. Surely The Arlow Group isn’t the only company in need of a boss bitch business analyst.”
“Sure, I’ll think about it,” I said because I’d already been on the steps for thirty minutes. There was work to be done. “I gotta go.”
“Hey, real quick. I’m going to be in town this weekend.”
“You will?” My voice took on a new octave.
“Yup! Mom’s coming over Saturday if you want to swing by.”
“Sure, yeah. That sounds like fun.”
“Thanks! I need all the help I can get.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Did I just unknowingly agree to help you move?”
“Yup! I’ve got to box up all my stuff, so come ready to work.”
I groaned, but I’d be happy doing just about anything with Hailey. Even if that meant wrapping her mugs in newspaper and wiping down her silverware drawer.
When Beck visited my cube, I had thirteen tabs open and was ready to stick a pen in my eye if it meant I could take a break from the spreadsheet in front of me.
Out of my peripheral vision, I’d seen someone approaching. Then I got the whiff of his scent. I let out a long exhale.
“How can I help you?” I asked without taking my eyes off the screen.
“Can you clarify something in your notes,” he said, sounding about as enthused to be there as I was to have him.
I spun away from the screen to face him, trying to rub the burning blue light from my eyes without messing up my eyeshadow. “Sure. What’s your question?”
He showed me a bullet from the notes I’d given him over our most recent meeting with Frank. “Well, here you defined this attribute as header level information, but it’s supposed to be line level, isn’t it?”
“No, you are thinking of purchase orders, which, if you look on—” I reached over and flipped a couple of pages. “—This page, you will see that here.” I worked to bite back the words that had been simmering all day. I reminded myself that I was a professional. There was a calm way to bring issues to the table. He probably had a good reason for not having my notes, but as I looked at him, these words came spewing out: “Not that it matters what I wrote since you are going to inevitably omit all my information in the meeting minutes.”
Shit. So much for professionalism.
