“Right. And I overheard pieces of the conversation. They sounded work-related. He was talking about a contract with Hills and Co?—"
"Oh, yeah. We finished that deal last Friday."
"Exactly, but here's the thing.” I pause for dramatic effect. “He was giving compliments."
Sam's head jerks back like I flicked her nose. "Compliments?"
"Mmhmm. Things like, ’You did an excellent job with that,’ and ‘Well, of course, it worked. It was your design.’”
Sam’s hand flies up to clutch her theoretical pearls. “He did not.”
I hold out my hands as if to say, “case closed.” The evidence is irrefutable.
“Garrett’s sleeping with someone at the office.”
My smile borders on maniacal. “No. Not sleeping with someone.Wantsto be sleeping with someone. Remember when he was with Molly or?—”
“Mel.”
"Yeah. Whatever. Those phone conversations? Never happened. He and Mel only ever texted.” What I would have given for a screenshot of those messages, based on his facial expressions alone.
"Well, maybe that was because of Mel."
I raise an eyebrow. I can’t blame Sam for being so oblivious. She wasn't the one with the approaching-unhealthy obsession with our coworker. "What does Garrett always do before he nails a contract?"
"Constant contact. Usually a gift or two. Lots of— Ohhh.” Sam realizes it before she finishes her sentence.
"Right. Phone calls. And then as soon as he has it in the bag?”
“Text and emails only."
"Exactly.”
“So you think there's someone he's interested in. But he hasn't sealed the deal."
I nod, leaning back in my chair and folding my arms. The student has become the master.
“Well, we have to figure out who it is.”
My thoughts exactly. I shouldn’t have waited this long to bring Sam in on my guilty pleasure. She’s been all in on every crazy adventure even before we started working together. TheBubble 5k, thrift store marathons, Pokémon GO missions. This was child’s play. “I'll bring you a notepad tomorrow.”
Sam looks genuinely concerned. “You havemore of them?How many did you print?”
I didn’t answer that, but I kept my promise. Now, Sam and I both have a phone call tracker sheet hiding under knickknacks on our desks. It’s all incredibly convenient, as Sam, in her corner office, has a perfect view of the breakroom.
Just the other day, she noticed him answer a call while waiting for a new pot of coffee to brew. There was bridge-of-the-nose pinching combined with heavy sighs. With the lowered voice, we concluded it had to be family. Not what we were looking for, but still good information. By my calculations, he’d had four more family calls than usual in the past week and a half.
Why, you might ask, do I feel so motivated to keep such dedicated surveillance? That’s simple. I've been in love with Garrett Davis since Sam got me the interview here at Paper and Pixel eight months ago.
Garrett is traditionally handsome. Tall and lean with shoulders and arms that announce his gym membership, a head of thick, dark hair that he always wears product in, and baby-blue eyes I want to dive into and swim a few laps in. He wears LuLulemon slacks and collared shirts with the sleeves always rolled up, featuring micro prints on the insides of the cuffs.
On top of that, he's whip-smart. As one of the founders, he helped build the company while he was in high school, from nothing but an inkjet printer and a contract with his mom’s real estate agent. He knows how to land the whales. He is brilliant at it, sitting across from CEOs twice his age, dissecting clauses with a million-dollar smile, flipping objections into signatures. Every time he emails over a fresh contract, signed and sealed, it feels like watching a magician pull money out of thin air. And maybe that’s why I can’t help myself. Because how do you not fall for theman who can talk anyone, even a Fortune 500 shark, into saying yes?
There’s no way I’ll use any of my reconnaissance against him, but having information about him has already proven useful. After the day with two family calls in a row, I happened to bring in Parlor Doughnuts for breakfast. That earned me eye contact and a “What’s your favorite flavor?” which I’m still second-guessing my answer to. Maple was so cliché. Completely forgettable. I should’ve gone with matcha or lemon basil. Because as Garrett always says, “We don’t sell products, we sell the story they tell.” And I sold basic vanilla.
My phone buzzes on the desk. A message from Sam.
911
