I tell her about realizing that I’m in love with Tristan. About seeing him with another woman and feeling like my soul was being pulled out of my chest even before he put the final nail in the coffin. She sits next to me on the couch when I tell her that I don't understand how I could fall so hard when he clearly didn't. She holds me as I finally break down for the first time when I tell her that it hurts so fucking bad.
And we stay that way for the rest of the weekend. Hugging each other and crying, laughing and eating junk food, sleeping on the couch and watching trash TV. We ignore all phone calls from Jax and Steve.
We're just two sisters, holed up in an apartment for the weekend, comforting each other and readying ourselves to face the world again on Monday morning.
* * *
I look up at the building in front of me and take a deep breath. It's Monday morning and I'm about to walk into work.
And deal with my colossal screw-up from last week.
I breathe in again as I steel myself for the situation that's waiting for me on the 12th floor. I've been reminding myself all weekend that a) it was an accident that could've happened to anyone, b) I hate this job anyway, and c) I'm good with money and have enough saved to be okay for a few months. It isn't the end of the world if I get fired this morning. It definitely won't look good on my resume, but it's not the end of the world.
I've barely had enough time to set up my laptop before my boss appears in my cubicle.
"Remy, we're ready for you," he says without any kind of greeting.
I look up at Brian and swallow nervously. He's been my manager for about a year and a half, and while I don't exactly have anything bad to say about him, I'm not really a big fan, either. He's just kind of useless. Doesn't seem like he knows what he's doing, doesn't ever offer any feedback or help, never cares enough to ask how things are going. I don't think he's ever even asked me if I like my job. And he definitely never helped with career progression. He's just… useless.
"I'll be right in," I say with a nod. When he walks away without another word, I close my eyes and steady myself with a deep breath.
It's okay, you're okay. It was an accident, and you hate this job. Whatever happens, you'll get through this.
With those affirmations running on repeat in my head, I stand and make my way toward the conference room.
There are three people sitting around the far end of the conference table: my boss, my boss' boss, and someone else I don't recognize. I take a seat, my nerves buzzing with the intimidating position of being the only person on this end of the table while three powerful people sit across from me. I clasp my clammy hands together in my lap.
"Remy, good morning," my boss' boss Will Templeton starts out. "You know Brian and myself, obviously, but this is Sam Hancock, our company's corporate attorney. He'll be involved in this meeting for obvious reasons." I nod stiffly.
Mr. Templeton pauses to study me for a moment. I don't know anything about the man except that he's damn good at his job as the VP of Sales, so I have no idea how hard he's going to come down on me about this. But this moment of thoughtful attention gives me hope that he'll be understanding.
He smashes that hope immediately.
"Remy, you obviously know what this meeting is about. Our competitor has contacted us with a copyright infringement notice for a datasheet that you created. If they were anyone else or if this was any other situation, it most likely would've just been a 'Cease and Desist' request. But because they're a competitor, they're using this as an opportunity to hit us as hard as they can. This could potentially cost usalotof money." His frown deepens. "Can you explain what happened here?"
I open my mouth to answer but I'm so nervous that my mouth is completely dry. I swallow and try again. "Unfortunately, the only answer I have for you is that it was an accident. I do a lot of research on the technology and that often means I end up on competitors' websites. The phrase must've stuck in my subconscious and I added it to the datasheet without realizing. I would never knowingly plagiarize anything, Mr. Templeton. It was a complete accident."
Brian leans forward on the table and clasps his hands in front of him. "Why would you need to do any research, Remy? Why aren't you just working with the materials the engineers give you? That should be more than enough to fine tune and make marketable."
My eyes nearly bug out of my head. I've been very vocal with Brian about my struggles with the engineers, so the fact that he's even asking this is unbelievable.
Useless.
"I rarely receive enough information from the engineers to create an entire datasheet," I answer delicately. I've never been one to burn bridges or throw anyone under the bus, so I need to be careful about how I answer this question and the inevitable next one.
Even though I'm dying to rat out those lazy motherfuckers.
"I'm not sure how that's possible," Brian argues with a glare. "I talked to Cassandra on Friday and she said she gave you plenty of information to work with for that datasheet."
I'm grinding my teeth so hard that I'm surprised I haven't bitten through my own jaw yet. I have no idea how to respond to that without calling both my boss and a valued employee a blatant liar.
Brian continues his scolding. "And anyway, why aren't you checking your work before you pass it to the Creative team to get published? How did a mistake like this get all the way through to publication?"
By now, my words have taken on a sharp edge. "I triple check everything I create," I say tightly. "But this is the exact reason I've asked for another person on my team, so it goes through quality control and so I'm not the only person—"
"I can't hire someone just to check your work," Brian interrupts.
I stare at him for a moment in complete disbelief.He really hasn't ever listened to a word I've said.