11. Derrick
11
DERRICK
I was in my office listening to the unedited recording of the latest episode of Missing Girls , making notes for the producers. Outside my open door, Rachel and Lexi’s laughter drifted in.
They were working together on Lexi’s social media accounts. Sex with Lex dealt with sensitive issues that could be controversial, which meant her social media blew up with trolls and haters after certain episodes.
Peyton usually handled the social media accounts for the hosts, but Analise, the director of social media, had moved her to content creation, which meant keeping up with minor things like the comment sections and DMs of the various shows’ accounts were falling through the cracks.
When Lexi emailed and asked for someone to assist her because the emotional stress of looking at the toxic comments was taking a toll on her, I sent a message through Slack to Rachel.
It seemed the professional thing to do. No more personal texting.
She had never responded when I followed up on her text about seeing her stalker again. I sent several messages, but after three days of silence, I took the hint and pulled back. All communication had ceased except in a professional capacity.
I should never have gone to Rachel’s doctor’s appointment. She’d been too emotional to think straight. I should’ve been the fucking grown-up and said no. What she needed was a friend, not her boss weirdly escorting her.
But the thing about life is you can learn from your idiot mistakes. And that’s what I was doing. I wasn’t her older brother. After a lifetime of taking care of my sisters, I had to remind myself that not every woman needed or wanted my help. Not even all my sisters.
They liked to tease me about it, but Maria and Tina, the twins, had told me to butt out more than once. So my butt was securely out of Rachel’s personal life.
It was not my job to save her. She could save herself from her breasts and her stalker.
I leaned back in my chair and took in the progress Rachel had made in my office. It was less of a disaster area, but there were still a few piles that needed to be dealt with.
Her new role working with the social media team suited her better. She was one of the most social people I knew, and if she thrived, I’d extend her role. The reorganization of my office wasn’t complete, but suddenly, I didn’t want Rachel in my space. I used to have a smaller office, but once Isaac had taken his semi-sabbatical, I had taken over his large office. Part of the reason it was a disorganized mess was because I didn’t want to admit that he was gone.
His absence wasn’t meant to be permanent, but something in my gut told me he wasn’t coming back. His true passion was investigative journalism, digging deep into a case and losing himself in it for a year, sometimes more, and then putting all the pieces together into a book.
That’s what he was doing now, and I couldn’t see him coming back to this job. He was still technically the co-CEO, but it was mostly in name only these days.
Clearing my calendar for the next few hours, I went through every pile Rachel had created, gathering the trash into large bags, filing the folders that had been reorganized and slimmed down into the filing cabinets, and organizing the new office items Rachel had ordered into their places.
On my way back up from taking the trash bags to the dumpsters in the basement, I considered asking Rachel if she’d like a full-time job at Dreamary.
There were other roles in the company that required filling. When NOW acquired us, part of the deal was that they’d limit their day-to-day management of the company. Why fix what ain’t broke? was their motto. They had wanted to acquire Dreamary because of how it worked, not change it to be just like them.
But it was inevitable that there’d be change. With NOW’s massive global reach, all our shows had thousands, if not millions, more listeners and subscribers, which meant every part of the business had blown up and in a very short time.
Our minimal staff was no longer cutting it, and with Isaac out of the office, the ship was bringing on water. Rachel would be perfect to patch the holes. She was a superwoman who loved being busy. The girl never stopped moving.
I was lost in these thoughts when I walked into my office, and it took me a beat to notice that someone was sitting in my chair, her legs propped up on the desk.
“Get out of my chair,” I said, my voice sterner than I intended.
Rachel blinked, a flicker of confusion crossing her gaze.
“Do people actually sit like this?” Rachel asked, wiggling her feet on top of my desk. “I see it in movies, but I’ve never seen it IRL.”
“You’ve spent a lot of time in offices?” I asked.
“Not really.”
“Move,” I said, and she plopped her high-top Converse-clad feet to the ground.
“You’re in a mood,” she said lightly, but there was a catch in her voice.
“I’m busy.” I sat in the chair she vacated and pulled up my calendar.
“Okaaay.” She looked around the office. “You’ve been busy. I was gonna finish up in here this week.”
“I figured it’d be quicker if I sorted the last few things.” I pulled up an email about a conference NOW was holding next month in Santa Barbara, California. One of the perks of being owned by a huge media company was getting to attend conferences in spectacular locations. The employees from Dreamary that attended loved it. “Thank you for all your hard work.”
Rachel exhaled loudly. “Are you firing me?”
“The job I hired you to do is complete, which typically means you’re no longer needed,” I said, typing a quick response to the coordinator for the conference about room and meal preferences.
“Lexi would like me to be her social media liaison. And several other hosts need help too. Peyton said she’d be grateful for the help, and Analise has approved it.”
“You’re going over my head now?” I asked, a slight edge to my voice. I wanted her to work here, so why was I fighting her? The woman drove me a little mad, but I wasn’t sure why. Was it frenetic energy? Were we like oil and vinegar? That didn’t mean I didn’t want her to work here. I didn’t have to mesh with everyone.
“What the fuck?” Rachel threw her hands in the air. “Why are you being a dick right now, Derrick?”
“I’m your boss.” I flicked my gaze up to her face, irritated. “Why don’t you act like a professional and not call me a dick? If you have a problem with me, you can quit. You’re only a consultant.”
“Is this about the other day at the doctor’s office?” Rachel put her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow. “You’re being...weird.”
I closed my laptop and sat back in my chair, resting my feet on the desk.
“I shouldn’t have done that. It wasn’t appropriate.” Then I added, “It won’t happen again.”
She reached into her backpack and flung a plastic spoon at me.
“Hey!” I dodged it, and it barely missed my head, clanging to the floor. “What the hell, Rachel.”
“You tell me, Derrick. You’re being a total jerk.”
“I’m being professional.”
“Oh, right.” Rachel snorted. “Like this place has ever been professional.”
“What does that mean?”
“Let’s see...first there’s the whole corporate sabotage that almost brought you down, two of your colleagues engaged in some sort of sexual tutoring thing with each other, and”—Rachel’s voice had hitched up with each accusation, and her cheeks were red, fire in every word—"you hooked up with one of your employees. But since you can’t get it up—" Rachel halted, her hand slamming against her mouth. “Oh, shit.”
I flew out of my chair, my face so hot it felt like it was on fire.
“Get out!” I screamed, my body shaking from the shock of her words, the embarrassment of her knowing this mortifying information.
Rachel’s eyes were wide, horrified.
“Out!”
“I’m sorry. Fuck, Derrick, I didn’t mean...”
“How did you—no, don’t tell me. “
Lexi. Fucking Lexi. Or was it Peyton? Would she have said something after all this time?
My jaw was so tight, a headache pulsed in my temple. My fingers gripped the edge of my desk. I wanted to flip it over and punch the fucking wall. But I kept it raging inside, glaring daggers at Rachel. Hating her right then. Hating what she knew.
“Get out,” I ground out.
Rachel backed away, her hand fumbling for the door handle.
“There’s nothing wrong with?—”
“OUT!”
All color sapped from her face, and she scrambled out the door. I stood behind my desk, every tendon in my body coiled tight.
I stayed in my office all day until every light was out and every employee gone. Needing to get all this pent-up anger out, I changed into the running clothes I kept at the office and sprinted the mile and a half home.
My mind raced with disjointed thoughts as my feet pounded the pavement and I dodged pedestrians. Should I fire her? Would that be ethical? Why would she say that shit? How did she know? Who told her? How could someone so clever have absolutely no fucking tact? And how could I ever face her again?
Exhausted, I showered and heated up last night’s takeout. In my living room, I sank into the leather sofa and stared at the streetlamps outside my tall windows and wondered what the fuck I was going to do about Rachel Arya.