Hatefully Yours

by Callahan, Kelli

  I’d much rather hate him from a distance…

  “Was Fulton here?” Trent came walking down my aisle, and instead of pretending that I didn’t exist, he actually talked to me.

  “Uh—yeah.” I turned to him and nodded.

  “Damn it.” He exhaled sharply.

  “Everything okay?” I asked inquisitively.

  Why did I ask him that? I truly don’t give a fuck. I wouldn’t waste a glass of water on him if he was on fire in front of me right now.

  My question wasn’t answered, which confirmed that I shouldn’t have asked it in the first place. Trent walked back to his office and closed his door. I didn’t have time to worry about his problems—I had plenty of my own with the new advertising campaign. What I didn’t realize at the time was that Fulton’s visit and Trenton’s concern were related to my new project. I got called into a meeting later that afternoon with Trent and learned that Gordon Cosmetics had been featured on a popular afternoon talk show. Their market share exploded overnight, and they were ready to go all-in on their advertising campaign—which meant the team on the other side of The Great Divide was suddenly interested in handling it.

  “So, that’s it?” I stared at Trent as I spoke. “I’m not working on it anymore?”

  “No, you’re done.” He pointed towards the door. “That’s all—I’ll find something else for you later.”

  I guess I have been officially dismissed from his office as well.

  All of my research was for nothing, and when I got back to my desk, I realized that I literally had nothing to do. The rest of the team had divided out their assignments and didn’t need any help. I looked at emails, read the company website, played with my phone, and generally just tried to find something that was more interesting than staring at the wall.

  “Are you sure there’s nothing I can help you with?” I rolled my chair back and peeked around the corner at Gabe.

  “No, we’re fine.” He shook his head. “Keep your drama on that side of the wall.”

  “My drama?” I raised my eyebrows in confusion.

  “The rest of us don’t want to get fired.” He waved me off. “You seem to be on the fast track to collecting unemployment.”

  “I’m not trying to do that…” I sighed and rolled back into my cubicle.

  My boss hates me, and my team doesn’t want anything to do with me. Cabot Beach is starting to look better every day…

  * * *

  I spent two days with basically nothing to do. I started to wonder if Trent had decided to just ignore me again. That was certainly better than a cold shoulder, an ice-dagger stare, or a meeting where the tension was so thick the rest of the team thought I was about to get fired. Mel wouldn’t even speak to me at all—whatever reduced her to tears in Trent’s office had made her afraid to associate with the other person on his hit-list.

  I can’t blame her. I would do the same thing if our roles were reversed.

  When I wasn’t at work, things were great. Hannah’s second date apparently as amazing as the first, and Jessica was still trying to get me to come to the bar on Saturday night. I was jealous in a way—they had the lives that I dreamed of living in New York. Sure, they didn’t work for a Fortune 500 company, but they were so damn happy.

  Maybe I should stop wasting my time here and start sending my resume out to other companies. There has to be something better than this…

  “Brooke—my office.” Trent’s voice echoed down our aisle. “Now.”

  Shit. Did he find a way to get rid of me without setting me up?

  “Yes sir?” I walked into his office several steps behind him.

  “Sit down.” He motioned to a chair in front of his desk.

  “If you’re going to fire, I’d rather stand.” I put my hands on my hips.

  “Not today.” He sat down. “Now sit the fuck down—you have to do what I say as long as this company is signing your paycheck.”

  “Fine.” I nodded and sat down.

  “The Gordon Cosmetics account has caused some trimming on the other side of The Great Divide. You’re going to be handling the advertising campaign for Xavier Wholesale now.” He leveled his gaze at me.

  “Okay.” I wrote down the name. “What do I need to know?”

  “Figure it out.” He waved his hand towards the door. “That’s your job.”

  “Oh…” I blinked in surprise. “I don’t know—anything about the company.”

  “Then you’ve got some work to do.” He shrugged.

  I felt rather flabbergasted when I left Trent’s office. He told me everything I needed to know about my first solo assignment—and at least gave me enough information to get started with the Gordon Cosmetics account. I literally had nothing but a company name. I decided to take some initiative since my boss wasn’t being very forthcoming. I looked up the name of the person who had the account on the other side of The Great Divide—and crossed it.

  It was like a different world over there. It didn’t even feel like the same company. The boss, a guy named Paul, was out in the aisle—talking with people—joking with them. The employees seemed happy. When I found the woman who was managing the Xavier Wholesale adverting campaign before it was dumped in my lap, she was very forthcoming. I had almost two pages of notes in a matter of minutes. After we talked for a little bit, I found out that she had been assigned to the Gordon Cosmetics account. I told her about my research, and she asked if I could email it over—which I was happy to do. For the first time since realizing that my boss was the guy who broke my heart, I walked to my desk with a smile on my face.

  That’s the company I thought I was going to be working for.

  There was so much energy on that side of the floor, and I felt like I was working in a tomb—a tomb with a headstone for the relationship I never had with Trent. Seeing the other side of the world made me feel rather depressed, but I didn’t have time to focus on it. I still had a job to do. What I learned, in addition to how much it sucked to work for Trent, was that Xavier Wholesale was one of Remington Global’s oldest accounts. It wasn’t a major account by any means, but it was one that Mr. Remington had a soft spot for because they had been on the books for a long time. It was owned by someone that he considered to be a close friend.

  It might not be worth much money to the bottom line, but if I screw this up, I’m sure Trent won’t have any problem pushing me out the door—that might be his intention. I’ll need to be extremely careful while I’m handling this account.

  I was determined to do the best job that I could, even if it was the last assignment I would get, so I stayed late to do my research. I would have preferred to it from the comfort of my apartment, but I wasn’t sure I would be able to focus. Hannah was supposed to be there, and Jessica didn’t have another shift at the bar until the weekend. They would be drinking, and I would probably give in to temptation. It was better to just stay at the office until I was ready to crash—or starving. That was definitely on the horizon since I skipped lunch. I worked until almost eight—I was the last one on the floor when I finally shut down my computer. I felt like I had accomplished a good bit, even if I was dead tired.

  I’ll come back tomorrow to do it again—in this fucking tomb I created when I wrote that damn letter.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Trent

  “Well that’s just risky as fuck.” Fulton stared at me in disbelief after I told him that I gave the Xavier Wholesale account to Brooke. “If she screws it up, your head may be on the chopping block—hell, my head might be on the chopping block.”

  “It’s a crappy account.” I shrugged. “Their budget is barely enough for us to pay Brooke’s salary with what they pay us. Besides, if she does fuck it up, Mr. Remington may come to her desk and personally walk her out.”

  “I’m just going to shoot straight with you, Trenton. I don’t like this.” Fulton shook his head. “I usually trust your decisions, but this isn’t a good one.”

  “Then overrule me.” I leaned
back in my chair. “You have the right to do that.”

  “Yeah I do.” He nodded. “But I won’t—I think this girl has your head all fucked up right now. The sooner you get rid of her, the better. If this is how it has to go down, then get it over with quick.”

  “That’s the plan.” I sighed.

  You’re right. My head is totally fucked up right now.

  I was starting to feel like I was at the end of my rope with Brooke—and tempted to just tie a fucking noose. I tried to ignore her, and it didn’t work. I tried to treat her like shit, and she dished it right back at me—but always in private so that I couldn’t get away with adding another discipline form to her folder. I hated the conflict that was going on inside of me. I didn’t like being an asshole—it wasn’t how I normally acted, despite what Brooke would probably say after being exposed to the worst side of me.

  I even regret being so cruel to Maria when I ended things with her. I could have treated her a whole lot better than I did…

  I confronted Brooke as soon as she got in. My plan was to scold her for not being prepared to handle her new account—but she was so many steps ahead of me that she might as well have been running a marathon while I was crawling. She met with the woman who handled the account previously, put together an impressive amount of research, and had some ideas that were really good. I refused to admit it, even if I was rather surprised by how well she was doing in such a short period of time.

  I refuse to give her the satisfaction of an actual compliment—she probably wouldn’t believe me anyway.

  * * *

  Another week passed, and there was a bit of celebration amongst my team when they got their first check. In the back of my mind, I held onto a somewhat twisted fantasy that Brooke might quit as soon as she got paid. That didn’t seem to be the case. She barely acknowledged it, just like she barely acknowledged me unless I addressed her directly. I could have sworn that I felt a wave of ice-cold air blowing from her desk every time I walked by—but that was probably just in my head. She turned in all of her assignments on time, and I couldn’t find a damn thing that I could do to push her towards the door.

  At least this gives me a good reason to drink…

  I walked into work the next morning with a bit of a hangover after going back to the bottle one too many times—then going back to it again after I already knew I was past my limit. The sun was too bright, the lobby was too bright, and I couldn’t wait to get to my desk. Brooke wasn’t just making my work life miserable—she was in my head and following me home. It would be my shitty luck that she was standing in the lobby when I arrived—waiting on an elevator. I decided to wait until the next one came, but before I could find a spot to linger, someone else walked through the lobby—my boss—but not Fulton—it was Mr. Remington himself.

  “Good morning, Trenton! How are you doing?” Mr. Remington had a bold, strong voice, and despite being almost eighty, he had more energy than a man half his age.

  “It’s going great.” I forced a smile and tried to put as much excitement in my voice as his resonated.

  “Awesome, glad to hear it!” He walked to the elevator, and it opened—then he held the door so Brooke could enter first.

  Fuck, I definitely need to be on that elevator with them.

  I made a dash for the elevator and stepped inside right before the doors closed. I was forced to say good morning to Brooke, who barely returned my greeting. I assumed she knew who was on the elevator with us, but she didn’t act like it was a big deal. It didn’t matter if I hated her or if she hated me—she was still my responsibility since she was on my team. If she said something that irritated Mr. Remington, Fulton would rip me a new asshole and fuck it. The corporate ladder rolled downhill, and I was at the bottom rung of the leadership team.

  “I don’t think we’ve met.” Mr. Remington turned to Brooke as the elevator ascended towards our floor. “Frank Remington.”

  “I know.” Brooke smiled. “Your picture is in the lobby.”

  Introduce yourself—fucking introduce yourself!

  “That it is.” Mr. Remington chuckled.

  “I’m Brooke Weiss. I just joined the marketing team last month.” She extended her hand.

  “Ah yes, I’ve heard your name.” Mr. Remington shook her hand. “You’re working on the Xavier Wholesale account, right?”

  “I am, yes sir!” She nodded quickly.

  Oh my god. He knows her by name? Fuck me…

  “Got any good ideas for it?” Mr. Remington tilted his head inquisitively.

  Please let this elevator ride end soon. It never feels like it takes this long normally…

  “Actually, I do.” She glanced at me. “I was planning to fill Mr. Rigsby in on them this morning.”

  “Really? Well he’s just going to tell Fulton who is going to tell me, so why don’t we skip all those people in the middle? Come on up to the top floor. I’d love to hear what you’ve come up with.” Mr. Remington nodded.

  “Sir…” I felt my heart skip a beat in my chest. “I haven’t had a chance to look over this. She’s new—I don’t know if her ideas are ready to present to you.”

  “I’ll be the judge of that.” Mr. Remington waved off my concern. “Everyone was new once—even me.”

  Our floor. Thank god.

  “Maybe we can look over it real quick beforehand.” I stepped off the elevator and looked back.

  “No, I’d prefer to see it right now.” Mr. Remington put his hand out to keep Brooke from following me. “I’ll return her soon—don’t worry.”

  You have to be fucking kidding me.

  My heart didn’t skip any more beats. It just stopped pumping blood entirely. I thought I was going to pass out when I watched those doors close. A horror movie unfolded in front of my eyes—worse than that—it was a nightmare that I couldn’t wake up from. I called Fulton as soon as I got to my office, so I could fill in him. He echoed my concern. If Brooke said one wrong thing, the shit was coming down from the top floor like a landslide. It could be even worse than that. If she told him that I wrote her up after lying about a deadline I gave her—I had no idea what he would do. It was sure to be a problem even if he believed my side of the fabricated story.

  Damn it. I should have just kept ignoring her—even if it wrecked me to look at her every day.

  I paced in my office and watched Brooke’s desk for what felt like hours. When she finally appeared, I realized that it had only been forty-five minutes. She had a smile on her face—until she looked at me—then the smile turned to disdain. I didn’t like that look. I couldn’t even walk out there and ask her how the meeting went. I was genuinely curious, but I wasn’t sure I could get the words out. My anxiety was through the roof, and it got worse as another thirty minutes passed. My throat was dry—my hands were sweating—I was a fucking mess. I poured a glass of water and guzzled it—then poured another one that I nearly choked on when my phone rang. I was somewhat relieved when I saw that Fulton was calling me.

  “Hey….” I pressed the phone to my ear.

  “Are you in your office?” His voice echoed on the other end of the line.

  “I am…” I raised an eyebrow.

  Obviously… I just answered my fucking phone.

  “I’m on my way down.” The line went dead.

  Fulton’s phone call didn’t make me feel any better. All I could do was assume the worst. If I was about to take the long walk to my execution, then I could hold my head high before the guillotine took it off. It wasn’t like I had any other choice. Brooke certainly didn’t owe me anything—if she used her time with Mr. Remington to address some of her concerns, then I was fucked. How would I justify the way I had been treating her? The bottom floor—a spot where I could retire or die—might be the softest landing I could have. Especially if the alternative was termination. Fulton appeared at the end of the aisle, and I tried to get my composure—the look on his face suggested that he wasn’t coming to my office with good intentions.

&n
bsp; “Do you know…” Fulton walked into my office and slammed the door. “Do you know how many people at this fucking company would sell their damn soul to have forty-five minutes of Mr. Remington’s time!?”

  “I’m aware…” I tensed up.

  “Hell, fuck the people at this company. Titans in this industry—people with more money than they could ever spend—they’d cut off a nut to have a chance to sit down with Frank Remington!” He was practically screaming.

  “I know. Fuck!” I nodded quickly. “I’ve seen the man twice—and one of them was today.”

  “That fucking bitch.” Fulton walked to the window and growled under his breath.

  “How bad is it?” I prepared myself for the worst. “What did she say?”

  “All the right things, apparently.” Fulton turned back towards me. “She dazzled him with her marketing campaign—if you can even call it that. She has a bunch of ideas that probably won’t even work!”

  “I tried to get Mr. Remington to let me look it over first.” I stared at the floor.

  “It’s too late for that now.” Fulton exhaled sharply. “The CEO of Xavier Wholesale has been planning to reduce inventory and shift to a drop-shipping business model for the last couple of years—Mr. Remington thinks her marketing campaign could be the one that launches it.”

  “Really?” I blinked in surprise.

  “Yes!” He snarled. “We’re talking about an increased budget—probably one that will put them on par with some of our bigger clients.”

  “Then we have to move the account.” I walked to my desk. “I’ll call Paul and see if he can take it back—this is obviously too much for the overflow team—or someone who is brand new to the company. That account is supposed to be garbage, but if Mr. Remington is putting this much focus on it, then we need to get it assigned to a team.”

  “Oh, Mr. Remington already has a team in mind.” Fulton narrowed his eyes. “Brooke—and you.”

  “Me?” I shook my head. “No, I’m an Emerging Leader now. I have five people reporting to me…”