I flip my phone over and slide a credit card from the elastic pocket on the back and hand it over, because desperate times call for desperate measures. “Surprise me. Make it a large.”
Twenty minutes later, Benji delivers lifeblood to me in the dining room, where I’m reading and responding to emails.
“Thanks,” we both say.
“You’re welcome,” I tell him, but I must look confused when I see there are still two cups in the drink holder in his hands.
“It’s for Mabel. She had a long day driving yesterday, and she’s probably tired. I’ll pay you back this afternoon when she pays me.”
Mabel and Benji bonded immediately and became the unlikeliest of friends when we moved in years ago. I think they get along so well because they’re both curious by nature. Mabel’s eccentric and has lived life to the fullest in ways that are unimaginable to most. It feels like every day we find out something new about her, and I love the influence she has on Benji. On all of us, really. We keep her young, and she makes us wise. She’s the friend we never knew we needed, who turned into family.
“Keep your money. Mabel’s is on me today.”
“Thanks, Aunt Soph.” He hugs me with one arm, to balance the drinks, and I kiss him on the cheek while I’m typing. “I should be back in an hour or so. I’m helping her set up a webcam. I think she wants to use it to talk to her family and friends and make videos for them.”
“Cool. Tell Mabel hi for me and that we’re glad she made it home safe.”
“I will,” he says, as he disappears out the back door.
My cell rings, and because I haven’t fully woken up due to the delay in caffeine intake, I startle. It’s Mark. Of course, it’s Mark. “Why can’t you text like a normal fucking person?” I whisper, before I tap and answer. “Hi, Mark.”
“Have you read the email from Omar Walker?” Mark doesn’t indulge in pleasantries before he begins a conversation unless you’re in a higher pay grade than he is. It’s irritating.
My email pinged a minute ago, but I’m in the middle of a chat with an agent to answer a question he had about a project we’re starting today and haven’t opened it yet. I switch screens and open Omar’s email. I answer, “Yes,” as I scan.
“Has he contacted you directly?” He sounds rattled, though I know he’s trying not to. Mark always tries to appear in control but rarely is.
“No,” I say, as I continue to read. Omar is COO and Mark’s boss’s boss, and he’s only been in the position for less than a month. This email is addressed to Mark, the department higher-ups, and me, requesting everyone’s availability on Tuesday. There must be a mistake.
Before I can finish the thought, Mark does. “This is obviously a mistake. I mean, this came fromOmar.” Royalty-level reverence is placed on his name. “I’m not sure why you were included, but I’ll get to the bottom of it. There’s no need for you to contact anyone.” The hushed snort of condescending disbeliefthat was nestled in amongst all the superiority in his delivery was unnecessary.
Dick.
“Okay. I’ll get back to work then.” The chat box on my screen from Seth is blowing up, and I need to get to it. I’ll come back to this email and address it in a bit.
“Don’t respond to the email, Sophie.” The repeating has begun.
“I won’t,” I reassure him. It’s a lie. I will definitely respond.
“It’s probably best if you delete the email.”
“Mmm.” I hum skeptically because I don’t delete emails from upper management. I keep them squirreled away in a folder because you never know when you’ll need to cover your ass with the shady group I work with.
“It was a mistake.”
Jesus, wrap this up, Mark. “If you say so. We’ll talk later.”
“I’ll call Omar’s assistant now and get this sorted.”
I mute the phone so I can take an aggressively loud breath. And then, because I have work I need to get back to, I unmute and agree with him because that’s what he’s waiting for. “I’m sure there’s a logical explanation. His assistant probably sent out the email for him and made a random mistake including me.”
“Exactly,” he says, almost triumphantly, as if he’s finally gotten through to me.
He hasn’t and never will.
“Bye, Mark,” I say, but the line’s already gone dead on his end, because fuck pleasantries.
There are two voicemails on my cell. One from HR and one from Seth. Seth always uses the chat feature online or texts, so a phone call is rare, which is the reason I listen to his first.
