Page 81 of Mr. Perfect

Mr. Perfect: Yeah, dude. Crazy with a capital C. I’m not sure if I should call security and have her escorted off the premises or see if she’ll fuck me in the stairs. Is she cute?

There’s a break in the conversation. Several hours. Then Mac is back.

Mr. Perfect: There’s two Ellies, you asshole!

Heath: Ellie Abraham? And who else?

Oh, my God. I wasn’t even on his radar, was I? Not that I care. I’m over any delusional feels I might’ve have conjured up for Heath. But Mac. God, what is this?

Mr. Perfect: Ellie Hatcher, you dumbass. I just felt her up in the stairs after she pulled this completely ridiculous stunt in a meeting. Holy fuck, man, you missed something supremely epic.

Heath: See, aren’t you glad I fucked up and got sent off to China. Told you that place was fun. At least you didn’t fuck with Ellen Abraham. And no one calls her Ellie, she uses that nickname because she’s got this weird obsession with Ellie Hatcher. Like hates her guts or something.

Well, that explains why she tried to ruin my life last week. I have no idea what I ever did to her. I’m nice to everyone. It’s practically my job to be nice to everyone. Well, to their face, anyway. I did make up nicknames for all my co-workers, but that was private. They didn’t know about it.

Mr. Perfect: If you’re not banging Ellie Hatcher, then I’ll give it a try. She looks totally corruptible.

My world goes completely still, the silence pouring in my ears to the beat of my heart. I did not just read that. I shake my head—no. It’s nothing. He was kidding. He didn’t know me back then. It was just guys being guys.

And while calm, rational Ellie knows all that, I also know that first impressions are everything. This is his first impression of me.

His words come back to me from that first day. This is completely ridiculous behavior, Miss Hatcher. My office now.

Ridiculous.

That’s why he thinks of me. I’m ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. And he thought I was Ellen Abraham that day in the stairs. In the meeting too, he must’ve.

I don’t know what to do with this information. I feel slightly stupid, more than a little bit betrayed, and naive for buying into Mac’s version of dating.

Is this dating? Even by his standards?

My phone buzzes in my purse and my heart skips a beat thinking this might be Mac and I will have to confront him.

But it’s not. It’s Ming. I tab the accept button and say, “Hello?”

“Ellie,” Ming says, very out of breath. “Oh my God, where are you? What she did is so fucked up!”

I get a sinking feeling in my gut. “Who?”

“Ellen!”

I have to close my eyes and place my hand on the desk, like I’m preparing for a blow to the stomach. “What happened now?”

“I’m so sorry, Ellie.”

“Just tell me, Ming.”

“She…” Ming hesitates again. “She sent out a newsletter, Ellie, and—”

“How? She was fired last week!”

“I don’t know,” Ming says. “Maybe she had it made and scheduled to deliver this morning. But it’s all about you and the Pinterest board for the employees. Screenshots and all the nicknames you have for people.”

I press end on the call, but as soon as I do that, Mac is calling.

I turn the phone off.

Mac probably wants to warn me about the newsletter, but that’s not why I’m thinking about right now. I’m thinking about that last sentence he wrote to Heath.