Page 29 of I Hope This Finds You Well

“Not tell anyone what?” He winks. “And since none of this happened, I guess we should finish the movie. If you’re up for it?”

I nod, so he leans over me to grab the remote back. The warmth of his body radiates toward me for a brief second, before he’s back in his seat and the light of the TV flashes on once more.

I try to watch with full concentration, but my fingers keep jittering against my leg and I keep peeking his way. Next time I encounter Cliff, I need to be more careful. Most important, I need to stay in control.

Because with him, it’s too easy.

Dos and Donuts

The morning has just settled after the chaos hour of people marching around to caffeinate, put lunch bullshit in the fridge, and pretend to care about Marsha’s opinion of the TV show she watched last night with her husband. Armin slipped in about fifteen minutes late, with bloodshot eyes and a pale forehead, all recorded by Rhonda.

I take a long swig of coffee and swish it around in my mouth to warm my tongue, still cottony from the wine last night. I tried not to, but it was the meeting with Cliff. Every time I closed my eyes on the bus home, I sawher. Specifically, her face when she realized my lie...

I need to focus. Today is a new day. Today will be better.

When I passed Caitlin’s desk this morning on the way to my own, I saw she had several documents open; she’s probably working on ideas for the multi-unit meeting. I should be doing the same, but this particular battle might already be lost. Coming up with ideas is the easy part. It’s the speaking-in-front-of-the-group piece—all their beady eyes and dry expressions zooming in on me—that always sends me into a panic and trips me up.

I’m just going to have to beat the system from the side.

As if on cue, a DM dings onto my screen from Caitlin to Rhonda, and I am all too eager to read it.

Hey, remember to send me the May inventory data today and then Jolene tomorrow?

Understanding dawns on me. No wonder Caitlin’s been so fast lately! “Can you give me the leg up again this month?” Caitlin had asked Rhonda yesterday. I couldn’t figure out how she was managing to complete her spreadsheet only an hour after the data arrived, butholy shit, Rhonda’s been giving her a sneak peek. What a sad, petty little place this is.

At least I have a leg up of my own this round. I switch to Gregory’s inbox—with caution this time, as I am not mentally prepared for the depravity I might cross—and sure enough, the data from all the branches arrived last night. He hasn’t even sent it on to Rhonda yet!

Caitlin’s responsible for A to M in this grid, and I, L to Z. It’s going to be glorious when I complete mine first, even with no “advantage.”

I just can’t believe they’ve stooped to this flat-out method of sabotage. And Caitlin was so brazen about asking; clearly, they’ve been doing this for a while. If they’re keeping the monthly inventory grids from me, what else could they be hiding?

I click into Rhonda’s inbox. And holy hell, it’s awful here. It’s a sea of red flags marking emails as “to-do,” but aside from that, there’s barely any organization whatsoever. It’s appalling how much vital information she has access to that she hasn’t shared.

There is one subfolder with a curious title:Things to Figure Out.

I click it open.

Every email is from Gregory. A whole collection of requests, some dating back months. And she hasn’t done them. He asked her to digitize several archives and to create online versions of common documents. She’s replied to him,On it :),but I can’t find any evidence that she’s touched a thing.

I peer over my cubicle wall. She’s filling out a hard copy of the EAE schedule with a pencil as she munches on an apple. “Drat,” she says, as she picks up the only physical eraser in the office.

Back in her inbox, I see last month’s corporate credit card statement has come through for the card she reported missing. I have to stifle a giggle. Whoever stole Miss Rhonda Staples’s company card somehow managed to charge $64.12 to the Supershops Liquor Depot the day before the account was closed. Bold of them to use it where you can get a company discount. No wonder HQ flagged it as suspicious. Did Rhonda accidentally charge a personal expense and then report it stolen? Maybe that’s why she seemed a bit cagey when Gregory asked.

Beneath her emails is a folder that contains her desk phone’s log records. She’s on that thing all day long, so I quickly skim through it. Mostly she’s talking to other department heads or to Gregory. But one odd pattern draws the eye. Every day, like clockwork, she calls the same outside number at least four times. And every single time, it’s marked as unanswered. I scroll back at least seven months and it seems almost ritualistic—like she’s calling a ghost.

It’s probably nothing, but I pull a Post-it from my drawer and write the number down.

I shift to Caitlin’s inbox next. Unlike Rhonda, she’s got folders foreverything. And subfolders inside of those folders. I start to wonder if she makes a new folder for every piece of mail she receives. Then I come across one with the titlePasswords.

I open that bitch up so fast—andding ding ding!It’s a freaking folder full of her passwords for work. She emails them to her personal box monthly. Her most recent one from April 13 reads:

Work email and login: Iamworthy44

Inventory spreadsheet: Iambeautiful19*

Work folder: Iamagoddess19*

Please let me hold it together. Let my cackling at her expense stay inside my heart. My mouth twitches, threatening a chuckle. She’s actually typing this stuff to herself several times a day? No wonder she’s so cocky. Then my excitement withers; obviously I can’t use her passwords to actuallysendanything. She would definitely notice that, and the goal is to not get fired. But now I can at least log in to her locked folders.