“Are you serious right now?” Hannah hisses. She recognizes Brock’s voice, and she is not happy.
“Sorry, got to go.” I hang up on Brock.
“I was going to tell you the meeting leftovers are out, and now I hear you about to get back together with your ex who owes you money and faked his own funeral.” Hannah glares.
“I’m not.” I follow her to the break room.
“Jenna, grow a pair.”
“I just—I can’t really afford my own place. I need a man so I have a roofover my head.”
Hannah snaps a pair of tongs at me. “I’m not even about to unravel that mess of a self-esteem knot.”
One of the teams had a big buffet spread for a lunch meeting, and I scrape the last of the risotto onto a plate.
“I’m never going to have a real family—you know, with a loving husband and beautiful children.”
Hannah nods to my phone, which has lit up in my hand.
“There’s one guy who seems very interested in you.”
“McCarthy.” I send it to voicemail.
“Isn’t he your client?”
“He’s not calling about that.”
Hannah’s eyes bug out.
“He’s not calling aboutthateither.”
“Oh my gosh, are you having an affair with him? Is that why his photos that you posted look so yummy? The way he was looking at you? Squirt!”
“Shh! Leftovers bring out everyone in the office. Anyway, that’s not what’s happening.”
I stop and sniff suddenly. There is the oily smell of stretch-mark lotion as the crowd parts for Bethany. Plate in hand, I scurry off, praying she didn’t see me—or worse, hear Hannah.
The email comeswhen I’m enjoying a massive raspberry chocolate swirl cookie from Arty’s afternoon meeting. It’s a calendar invite with Bethany’s office noted as the location.
Wobbly in my high heels, I brush the crumbs off my face and dress and make a slow procession toward her office. Outside, thunder crashes; the sky’s gone dark.
Bethany shakes prenatal vitamins into her hand as I enter and hover by the door.
“Why are you standing there? Sit down.”
Up on her computer screen is the post I made yesterday, with the thousands of comments.
Am I getting kudos from Bethany finally?
“The CEO sent me a message earlier.” She’s picking through the prenatal vitamins in her hand like she’s sorting through a pile of moldy corn. “Apparently, Mr. Svensson called him to praise a certain Instagram post.”
On her screen loops the video of McCarthy chatting with Granny Mavis then briefly looking at me through the camera.
“Imagine how shocked I was when I found out you took our biggest, most important client to your parents’ house.”
“It’s not ‘parents’.’ Technically, it’s my mom’s house. Zephyr just lives there…”
“You are using this company’s reputation for your own gain, Jenna. You’re engaging in the same manipulative, sexually charged behavior that you did with your last client.”
