GAVIN
I couldn’t resist swinging into Cory’s office the next day and giving him hell over Patrick’s sister. That simple fact was enough to put the kibosh on all of Cory’s romantic plans. I knew for a fact that Patrick wasn’t the type of guy who would take kindly to friends sniffing around his little sister.
“So…” I said, walking unannounced into Cory’s office. “The bakery girl is Patrick’s sister.”
“Shut up,” Cory mumbled.
“That’s probably why you thought she was so hot.”
“You would think she was hot too if you ever bothered to go look,” he shot back. “It has nothing to do with Patrick.”
“But you realize you can’t ask her out now?” I observed.
“No, I don’t realize that.”
“Patrick would have your head on a pike.”
“It’s none of Patrick’s business.”
“Try telling him that.” I couldn’t get enough. I felt like I was kicking a man while he was down, but I couldn’t help myself. Cory was such an easy target.
I left him alone but kept coming back to the subject whenever I saw him. We were in a meeting with the department heads, and I tossed out a wicked “So where are the pastries, Cory?”
He narrowed his eyes and shot me a hateful look. I gave him a shit-eating grin but kept my mouth shut for the rest of the meeting. I figured it was just part of our friendship, this unrelenting ribbing. What guy leaves off an opportunity to rub another guy’s nose in his mistakes? Not me.
It had been two weeks since I’d started the job, and I was just getting my bearings. PR wasn’t all that different from photography. There was a lot of manipulation of light and background, making sure that we had the perfect angle on any statement. I wasn’t sure the organization needed a PR department. They didn’t have anything to hide. They did exactly what they said they were doing, as far as I could tell. That was helping clients make the right investment decisions and also funding building projects.
There was a young man who worked in my department who was in charge of social media. I interfaced with him a good deal because he needed graphics to communicate his message. There was a branding advisor who worked part-time from her home. I had to run everything by her to make sure that the colors I was using were on point and the fonts were approved, etc. While there was some creativity involved, there was also a lot of structure. I wasn’t sure if I enjoyed it yet, but I was giving myself time to decide.
On Thursday, I ran into Cory in the break room and decided to give him hell once again. I opened my mouth to say something snarky, but he beat me to it. I guess he could see where I was going. I hadn’t made any secret of my delight in torturing him.
He grabbed me by the neck and rubbed his knuckles into my hair. I didn’t react at first, shocked by the sudden attack. I had to force myself to calm down. My first instinct was to punch him in the gut. But I didn’t want to start a real fist fight in the office. That wouldn’t look good, and who knew what bigwig might walk in at any moment? We would both find ourselves out of a job as quickly as we had fallen into one.
I ducked out of the headlock and straightened my suit. “Okay, truce,” I said, holding up my hands.
“Give it a rest,” Cory demanded.
“I won’t ever speak of it again,” I promised.
Grabbing the toaster, I looked at myself in the stainless-steel reflection. My hair was all messed up. I combed my fingers through it, trying to tamp it down after the beating it had taken. When I checked again, the sight was much improved.
Just then, Donovan walked into the room. Cory and I jumped, looking guilty and trying not to. Donovan wasn’t paying attention because he missed the tension in the air. He was all excited about something and eager to let us in on whatever it was he had found.
“I need to talk to you guys about my revitalization project,” he said.
“Just walk right into the break room, why don’t you?” I replied, opening my arms wide in a gesture of confusion.
“You weren’t in your office,” Donovan explained.
“This is employees only,” Cory told him, equally put out.
“Are you seriously gonna make me go back to your office and wait?” Donovan complained.
I relaxed. It wasn’t like Donovan was going to steal the silver or anything. He was a friend, and there was no real reason to object to him hunting us down. I put the toaster back on the counter and walked over to the mayoral hopeful. Taking him by the arm, I led him out of the kitchen and back to my office. Cory followed, interested in what Donovan had to say.
“Did you get my email?” Donovan asked in the hallway.
I tried to remember. If I had gotten an email, it hadn’t made much of an impression. I got so many emails that I had trouble sorting through them all.