With a sigh, I sit back up and stare down at my notes from the meeting—just stare trancelike for more than fifteen minutes. When a knock sounds on my door, I jump. “Come in.”
I watch the knob turn slowly, and then a big foot covered in a shoe that costs more than my rent moves into my office. Graham.
“Hey, boss.”
“Ben,” he says after shutting my door. He takes a moment to look around my office. It’s nothing special. Gray walls, two gray filing cabinets, gray desk, black chair. You get the idea. His expression tells me everything I need to know. He’s not impressed. “You need a poster or something in here, Ben. It’s depressing as fuck.”
It is. It really is. “Sure. I’ll work on that.”
Not.
“Good.” He nods absently. When he looks at me, he’s not smiling. Ha! Funny. Graham Morgan isn’t a smiley kind of guy, so why am I even wondering why he’s got that grimace on his face?
“What can I do for you, Graham?” I need to get this over with.
“Well, I’m here for two reasons.”
I stare up at him. Two reasons?
“One, your presentation was a disappointment.”
Already well aware.
“According to Lindsay, your social media data was way off.”
“My data?” What’s he talking about?
“Two, Clive—”
“Clive?” Maybe he’s in trouble. He’s the one who fucking double-checked my data….
“Clive is needed elsewhere.”
“Elsewhere?” Fucking Clive. I’m not sure what to say to all of that. I should probably ask him if I’m about to be fired, but that’s the wrong way to approach this. The only thing I can think to do is nod and say, “Okay.”
“We’re moving him.”
“But he’s my assistant.” What the hell is going on?
“Not anymore. We’ll see about getting you another one.”
He’ll see about it? I’m not sure why I’m repeating everything the guy is saying in my head. Probably because I can’t seem to wrap my brain around any of this.
“If he’s not my assistant, what’s he going to do?”
“Special projects liaison.”
Special projects liaison? What the hell is a special projects liaison?
“You can give HR a call and see if they have someone who can fill in for Clive until this is all settled. In the meantime, his office will be next to yours.”
With a slow nod, I give Graham one of my patented smiles. One that means absolutely nothing. “I’m sure Clive appreciates the opportunity.”
“Of course he does,” Graham snaps.
I decide to get this meeting over and done with, so I stand. “I’m sure Clive will do a great job. I look forward to working with him.”
Lies.
“Hope so.” Graham nods. “Hope so.”
I watch the man leave my office, then step out to where Clive usually sits. He’s gone. I hear noises coming from the office next to mine, so I step over and stare into the doorway, watching as Clive hangs a poster on his wall.
He brought shit to decorate his office? How did he know?
Oh.
He knew. Before today.
The fucker.
This has been in the works for longer than a day. To say I feel betrayed is the understatement of the century.
“Congrats, Clive.” I know my voice is oozing sarcasm, but I’m doing my best to sound sincere.
He laughs. The fucker actually laughs. “Sorry, man. I’d had enough.”
“Enough? Of what?”
“You.”
The scoff shoots out of my mouth before I can stop it. “Well, you still work for me, so I don’t see how your situation has improved.”
“Actually…,” he starts to say, but he pauses. I wait for the rest.
“Actually, what?”
“I work for Graham.”
We all work for Graham.
I’m about to say that when he holds up his hand. “I’m only working next to you.”
Blinking, I stare into Clive’s new office. An office that’s about 250 percent bigger than mine. An office with a fucking window, a sitting area, and his own bathroom.
What the ever-loving hell is going on? It’s like I’m living in some sort of alternative universe. One where my assistant is suddenly promoted and I’m pushed into the basement. Like Milton in the movie Office Space.
For some inexplicable reason, I search Clive’s new mahogany desk for my stapler.
Shaking my head, I smile. “Well, I’m happy for you, man.”
“Liar,” he grumbles as he scoots a large plant into a corner.
He’s got a plant?
“Nah, man. I’m really happy for you.”
I might as well embrace this—at least while I’m here at work. I can get drunk and break shit at home. Or better yet, I can hang with Sky. She’ll commiserate with me. She always does.
Chapter Four
Ben
“Oh, Sky.” I’m sitting on my small couch, petting my favorite person, my dog. “Today was a shit show.” With my free hand, I lift my beer can. My third of the night. After a deep swallow, I mutter, “I have a bad feeling about all of it.”
I couldn’t admit that earlier at the office, but I do have a bad feeling about this. Something changed today. It’s like there’s been a shift in the universe, and one that’s not good. Not good at all.
“Oh, Sky,” I say with another sigh. “At least I’ve got you.”
She snuggles in closer to my leg and gives me her own doggy sigh.
See? She gets me.
I woke up this morning with a revised attitude. Yesterday was a fluke. Everyone has bad days now and then, and that was mine. I woke up early so I could take Sky out for an extra-long walk. On my way to work, I grabbed a cup of coffee from my favorite coffee shop and hummed, out loud, on the subway. You’d think that would have drawn stares, but it’s New York; humming is nothing.
I enter the Morgan building with a skip in my step and a smile on my face—until I get up to my office and discover the place is deserted. Strange. Start time here is 9:00 a.m., and it’s currently five after nine. I look at Clive’s old desk, then walk to his new office and see it’s empty. I head down the short hallway and peek into various offices of the marketing personnel and the place is deserted.
“Where is everyone?” I ask aloud.
“In the auditorium on five.” I turn to see Lindsay, our social media director.
I stare at her for a second as she gathers up things from her desk. “Is everyone supposed to be there?”
“Yep. They sent an email last night.”
I checked my email last night. Several times. I pull my phone out of the inside pocket of my suit jacket and quickly get to my work email account. I scan the emails but don’t see one about a meeting. Quickly, I check my Spam email and still don’t see it. “I didn’t get one.” I’m talking to myself, but Lindsay hears.
“Don’t know, but we’d better get there. It sounded important.”
I follow her down the hall to a set of elevators. She presses the button and we wait in silence. I’m not sure what to say, especially since my mind is whirring about not getting the email. That’s never happened before. I always get company emails.