by S. Walden
“Well, I can’t argue there,” Dan said. “So now we have to figure out how to get you back.”
“I’m just dried up right now,” Reece said. “It happens. I can’t be on all the time.”
Dan considered this. “I hear what you’re saying, Reece. And you’re right. Creativity can’t happen twenty-four seven. I understand that. But we both know this isn’t a dry spell for you.” He paused. “Don’t we?”
Reece shrugged.
“I know about you and Bailey,” Dan said. “And I ignored all of it because you’re adults. And once you got engaged, I didn’t worry about anything except what the hell I was going to do with a married couple working together under my roof.”
Reece rubbed his face.
“Did I go about it all wrong? Should I have pulled you both into my office and given you an ultimatum? Force you to make a decision between your job or each other?”
“No,” Reece said.
“Then how do I fix this problem? Because it’s a big fucking problem. I’ve got a guy in Creative who’s turning in kindergarten work and a proofreader who can’t spell automotive,” Dan explained.
“I’ll go,” Reece whispered. “I’ll go, and then things will get better for her.”
“No.”
Reece jerked his head up at the sound of Dan’s voice. It was forceful and decided.
“You’re not going anywhere. I already told you you’re the best thing I’ve got. And I know you’ll get better. I have plans to make it better,” Dan said.
“And those are?”
“I’m gonna let Bailey go,” Dan replied.
“No!” Reece cried.
“It’s the only way,” Dan insisted.
“No, it’s not! I just told you I’d go!”
“I can’t let you do that, Reece. You’ll regret it.”
“I’ll regret it if I let you fire her!”
Dan’s eyebrows shot up. “I don’t need your permission to fire someone, and I wouldn’t be firing her. I’m eliminating her position . . . for a while.”
Reece jumped up from the chair. “No, Dan. It’s wrong, and you know it.”
“She can’t spell!” he argued.
“You know she can fucking spell!” Reece countered. “Please don’t do this! If you do, I’ll walk out of here. I will walk out in a heartbeat! I know five firms who would hire me on the spot!”
Dan bristled at the threat.
“I swear,” Reece went on. “I can call them now.”
It was partially true. After the success of the Haute Digital phablet campaign, several firms showed interest in Reece. But none of them formally offered him a job, and as the months went by, he stopped hearing from them.
“Stop,” Dan said. “Just stop. And sit down.”
Reece sank into the chair slowly.
“One week. I’m giving you one week to get back on your game. You understand me?”
One week wasn’t enough time to land a new job. And he couldn’t be without one while he looked. What was the old adage? New adage? “The best time to look for a job is when you have one?” Of course, he did say he’d quit on the spot, but that was really just an empty threat. He needed Dan to believe it so that he could protect Bailey. Bailey and her house and her mortgage payments. His only option at the moment was to get his shit together, and so he took a deep breath and nodded.
“I promise I’ll be fine,” he said.
He left the office and saw her standing there in the hallway talking to Marjorie. She looked his way, and his only thought was that he had work to do. He had a killer campaign to write. And her job depended on it.
***
“What the hell is going on?” I asked, pulling Christopher aside. He wouldn’t look at me as he tapped the water cooler.
“B . . .”
“Don’t ‘B’ me,” I snapped. “Just tell me straight up what the fuck is going on! People have been looking at me all weird for the past week!”
“It’s Dan. It’s . . . just a rumor, but I think he’s letting you go,” Christopher said.
I gasped. “Why?”
“All this shit with Reece,” Christopher said.
“I’ve been doing my job just fine,” I argued. I conveniently forgot about the “autamotive” misspelling and the numerous other slipups.
“But he hasn’t,” Christopher replied, and then he groaned. Apparently he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
“So I’m being punished because Reece isn’t performing?” I grew instantly angry. “He can’t fire me for that! I’ll sue his ass!”
Christopher winced. “He’ll say he’s downsizing. He’ll outsource your job. He’s got an arsenal of excuses for letting people go. You won’t have a leg to stand on, and I’m not saying that to be cruel. I’m telling you how it is ‘cause I want you to be realistic. Start looking.”
I seethed. “For?” But I already knew what he meant.
“You know what for. Look, I’m telling you this because you’re my friend,” Christopher said. “And I care about you.”
“I’ve been with this company for six years,” I said slowly.
“I know, Bailey. I know.”
“And I’m that expendable, huh? The work I do here isn’t nearly as important as creating ad campaigns, is it?”
“Bailey . . .”
“Did they talk?” I asked abruptly.
“Who?”
“Dan and Reece.”
Christopher cleared his throat. My heart sank.
“Did Reece give him an ultimatum or something?”
“What?!”
“You know what! Did Reece tell Dan he had to make a choice?”
“No! God, Bailey, this is Reece we’re talking about! He’d never do that. He threatened to quit if Dan fired you!” Christopher’s eyes darted around the room, and then he pulled me into the corner and spoke softly. “He stuck up for you.”
I believed him. Of course I believed him. I knew Reece’s nature. It wasn’t sinister. It was genuine and transparent. If he plotted with Dan, I would have known it. I would have felt it without even looking at him.
“Dan’s a jerk,” Christopher whispered. “I won’t deny it. I mean, when he’s great, he’s great. When he’s not great, well . . .”
“I didn’t catch the ‘autamotive’ misspelling,” I confessed. I needed to tell someone.
“Huh?”
“I haven’t been doing a good job lately either,” I said. “Maybe this is all for the best.”
Christopher squeezed my shoulder.
“But I’ll be damned if he’s going to fire me,” I added. “That’s humiliating. I’ll just quit. Hand in my two-weeks notice tomorrow.”
“This is so unfair,” Christopher said. “Reece would leave for you. I know he would.”
“I don’t want him to,” I replied. “And anyway, Dan wants him, not me.”
Christopher hung his head.
“This has been a disaster, hasn’t it?” I asked after a moment.
“I don’t know, Bailey.”
“Are you still gonna be my friend?”
His head shot up. “What kinda question is that?”
“I won’t ever see you,” I replied.
“Girl, we got surfing to do this summer. What are you talkin’ about?”
I smiled.
“I got your number. You know I’ll keep in touch with you. And I’m not just sayin’ that.”
“But it’s a conflict of interest,” I pointed out. “You’re Reece’s friend, too.”
“Okay,” Christopher confessed. “You put me right in the middle of it, but I’ll handle it ‘cause I care about both of you.”
“Will you share our conversations?”
He smirked. “Only if you want me to.”
“Like high school, huh?”
“All day long,” Christopher said.
I giggled. And then I remembered that I wouldn’t have a job in two weeks. I cleared my throat.
“Chris, I’m scar
ed,” I whispered.
“I’m gonna help you look,” he said. “Don’t worry. I ain’t working on anything but that for the rest of the day.”
He went in for a hug. And then he thought twice.
“Bad idea,” I said, and he nodded.
At 5:52 P.M. I received an email from Christopher. He attached applications for eight proofreading jobs. They could all be completed online, but I printed them out anyway, using company paper and company ink. In fact, I printed each one several times. One hundred times, to be exact.
I snickered as I walked to the copy room.
***
We had a good long run of it, but I couldn’t avoid him at the end of the day. He walked into the copy room, completely oblivious to me, eyes fastened to some papers he carried. I moved aside quickly before he smacked right into me.
“Oh gosh, sorry!” he said.
“I’m almost finished,” I replied.
There were several copy machines in the room, but what I meant was, “I’m almost finished so that you can have the entire room to yourself since this is really awkward.”
“I’ll use this one,” he said, pointing to his right.
He started the machine, then stood shuffling his feet, every now and then glancing in my direction. I knew because I was doing the exact same thing. When we caught each other’s eye the third go-around, I spoke up.
“I know about Dan.”
He tensed. “What about him?”
“His plans to fire me.”
“Bailey, I have nothing—”
“I know you have nothing to do with it. Well, I mean you have something to do with it. He needs you back to your old creative self, or something like that. And I get it. I really do.”
“Bailey, I told him I’d walk out that door if he fired you,” Reece said.
“I know, Reece. It’s okay. I know you’re not in cahoots with him,” I replied.
He relaxed some.
“So I’m gonna quit. Save Dan the trouble of coming up with some bullshit excuse for letting me go. Save him the trouble of having to pull me into his office and all that. Save myself from the embarrassment.”
Reece’s face fell. “Please don’t,” he said before he could stop himself.
“I think it’s the wise thing to do,” I replied. “I don’t think we can work like this anymore. I don’t think it’s healthy.”
He said nothing. Just stared.
“You’re really creative, Reece. And you’re kickass at your job, and you’ve gotta get back to that.”
“Your job matters, too,” he said angrily.
“Oh, I can find a proofreading job anywhere,” I said with a dismissive wave of my hand.
“I can find a marketing job anywhere,” he countered.
“But I don’t want you to,” I explained. “And anyway, you’re not the one Dan wants to see go. I am. So I’m going.”
“Please wait until you find another job, Bailey. You have a house and a mortgage and bills.”
“It’s all right,” I replied.
“Please,” he insisted.
“It’s all right,” I repeated softly.
There was nothing left to say. I wanted to ask him how he was doing, but I had no business prying. It would be totally offensive since I was the one who made him leave. He couldn’t know that I was already working on myself—trying really hard to find balance in my life. It wasn’t easy, and I was still a broken mess, but I was starting to put myself together again. Last night I lay awake in bed feeling hopeful for the first time in weeks. I almost called him to tell him. But that would have been selfish. Why should he care to celebrate my small accomplishments, especially from far away?
“I better go,” Reece said. “Clients don’t wait.” He held up his stack of copies.
“I . . .” My voice trailed off. I didn’t know what to say.
He looked at me helplessly, but only for a second before he adjusted his face, hiding any emotion.
“Goodbye, Bailey.”
***
Kat Kreates was a bullshit firm. It constantly tried to undermine Beach Elite and steal all its clients. It was a bully firm stacked with weasels who didn’t understand the concept of work ethics. It operated with no definable moral compass and was an all-around shady business. And I couldn’t care less. They offered me thirty dollars an hour to proofread their ad campaigns, and I wasn’t about to pass that up.
I will not pretend, however, that I didn’t miss Marjorie or Christopher. Or even Reece. I was well into my second month at the firm, and the job was lonely. I didn’t bother to make new friends because I convinced myself that all my coworkers were wily. I tucked myself away instead, many days going without uttering a word. While in the past I enjoyed the solitary nature of proofing, I knew my heart and mind had changed. He changed me. He left something inside of me I couldn’t get rid of. It was a small pinprick of light that glowed deep in my belly that suggested the irrefutable change. The love had been planted, and now I couldn’t escape it. I battled it. I knew I was no good for anyone, but the love remained anyway, pulsing a message of hope: You don’t have to be alone.
And I didn’t want to.
“Hey, new girl,” someone said above my shoulder. I looked up.
He smiled down and extended his hand, offering me a Lindt truffle.
“Thanks,” I replied, taking the chocolate. I didn’t miss out on the fact that he was very cute, but remember: he was wily, too. They all were.
“Name?”
“I don’t have one,” I replied. I’ve no idea why that came out of my mouth.
He looked at me, confused. And then a smile spread slowly across his face, revealing perfect teeth. I hated perfect teeth. I hated my own perfect teeth, for that matter.
“That’s cute,” he said. “Now tell me your name. Seriously.”
“Beboppin’ Bailey.” The words just tumbled out, and I clapped a hand over my mouth.
He burst out laughing. “Is that, like, a nickname from childhood?”
I shook my head, hand still stuck to my face.
“Well, I like it. Beboppin’ Bailey,” he said, and my heart clenched.
Don’t you dare repeat it, I thought. Don’t you dare use his name.
“So, Beboppin’ Bailey,” he began, “how are you liking your new job? I’ve seen you around from time to time. You just do your own thing, don’t you? Never see you talk to anyone.”
He moseyed into my cubicle and got comfortable on my desk. Bile shot up into my throat. No lie.
“No one calls me Beboppin’ Bailey anymore,” I explained. “I don’t know why I said that. It’s just Bailey. Plain ol’ Bailey.”
“Nah. I like Beboppin’ Bailey much better,” he replied.
“Well, I don’t,” I clipped.
He cocked his head at me. “Okay then. Bailey it is.”
“And what’s your name?” I don’t know why I asked. I didn’t care at all.
“Stephen,” he said.
“Nice to meet you.”
“You sure about that? You seem like you’re not sure. Did I do or say something to offend you?”
I shook my head. “Not at all.”
“Are you sure about that?”
I nodded. I really wanted to get back to my work. I wasn’t on a schedule anymore, and for the first time in months, I wish I was. It would provide me the excuse I needed to get this jackass out of my workspace. Why, Bailey? Why did you have to get better? I thought bitterly.
“All right then,” he replied. “So what are you doing after work?”
Erica burst out laughing later that night when I relayed the conversation. I went to her house for dinner. I was excited to see her, but truthfully, I was more excited to play with her kids. I brought along Poppy who was the only Westie I knew who actually liked small children.
“What a total douche,” she said, giggling.
“I know, right? I fu— freaking hate that place.” Caught myself.
“Find another
job,” Erica said.
“Erica, they pay better than any other firm. I’m sticking it out for a while,” I replied.
“I get it,” she said, “but it’s so important to love what you do.”
“And it’s also important to pay your mortgage,” I replied.
She grunted. “Oh, I totally forgot to tell you that I have a client coming over in—” She checked the time. “—about ten minutes.”
“Huh?”
“And Taylor’s coming, too. She’s gonna start tanning Courtney, so I’m introducing them.”
“Oh, I see,” I said. “You needed a babysitter.”
“Hey, I’m gonna feed you afterward. Shouldn’t take more than thirty minutes.”
“Do your thing. It’s fine. I really came over to see your kids anyway. Not you. And don’t get pissed if Poppy licks your client’s leg when she leaves.”
“Ohhhh, yeah. That’s so not happening. You need to put that mongrel in a room,” Erica said.
“How about we all hole up in the playroom. Will that work?” I asked.
“You’re the best!”
We herded Little Noah, Annie, and Poppy into the playroom right as the doorbell rang. It was Taylor, and I said a quick hello. I’d met Taylor months ago when Erica introduced us. We went out for drinks after a particularly grueling work day: I was yelled at for printing up an ad campaign and proofing it with my red pen instead of using the computer. Erica and Taylor were yelled at by a client who developed a nasty rash the day after she was tanned.
“The world’s filled with nothin’ but bitches,” I slurred in the taxi cab on the way home.
Erica was right. When all was said and done, it took about half an hour to tan her client. I heard the murmuring coming from the foyer and thought it was safe to open the playroom door. I swore I heard the alarm beep, signaling someone had opened the front door to leave.
Poppy darted out in an instant, high on the scent. She zeroed in on Courtney, who stood in the open doorway saying her goodbyes.
“Oh God,” I whispered and raced to the foyer. “No, Poppy! Noooooo!!”
But it was too late. Tongue everywhere. Tongue on her toes. Tongue on her calves. Tongue on her shins. Courtney danced around the room, trying to get away, and Poppy thought it was a game. The damage had been done long before I got my hands on her wriggly body. I couldn’t look at Erica. I couldn’t look at anyone as I apologized profusely.
