Two
Annalise
"So it takes exactly zero point six four seconds to say the name Cordelia," I said as I passed by jerk face.
He didn't reply, just got out his phone and said the word, "Dee." Looking at me triumphantly, his lips curved into a smile. "Dee takes point one six."
I rolled my eyes at him. "Point four eight seconds of a difference. Big fucking deal."
"That's nearly half a second. And time is money, baby."
"Don't you dare baby me. And what do you know about money anyway?" I eyed his ill-fitting, rumpled suit and scuffed up shoes with obvious disdain, ignoring the fact that I had just asked an extremely condescending question. Usually, I would never go there, ever, but this guy seriously got under my skin and brought out the absolute worst in me.
But instead of getting mad or rightfully upset at me suggesting he had no money, he arched a brow at me. "Wouldn't you like to know? Because I'm secretly a billionaire going undercover, slumming it with the plebeians."
His words left me breathless because, oh my fucking God, did he know ? I certainly wasn't a billionaire, but I did have plenty of money, courtesy of my late grandmother's trust fund, and I was indeed undercover. "Ha ha," I managed to say. "Very funny."
With a low laugh, he turned back to his paperwork and got busy, clicking his pen over and over and over in the most obnoxious rhythm. I tried my best to ignore him, going through the daily slog of emails, sorting them, replying to a few, making notes here and there.
Click, click, click. Clickety, clickety, click.
Click, click, click. Clickety, clickety, click.
Stifling the exasperated sigh I was desperate to sigh, I looked over the to-do list I'd left myself from yesterday, creating a new one with jerk face in mind, his training, what I could possibly pass on to him.
Click, click, click. Clickety, clickety, click.
Click, click, click. Clickety, clickety, click.
That was it. I whirled my chair around to face him. "Do you mind?"
"Mind what?" His face, his eyes behind his glasses, looked bewildered.
Glasses. Shit. All this chaos with Jared had made me forget to don my fake reading glasses. It'd be too obvious if I put them on now.
"Mind what?" he repeated.
"Do you mind not clicking your pen every split second?"
"Oh. I didn't even realize I was doing that. Have a song stuck in my head." He reached out an arm and clicked the offending pen right in front of me. "Can you tell what it is?"
"What what is?"
"The song. Duh."
Click, click, click. Clickety, clickety, click.
Click, click, click. Clickety, clickety, click.
"No. And I don't want to know."
"Well, you obviously have no musical taste."
"Just because I don't enjoy your pen music does not mean I have no musical taste. If you could please stop, I would actually like to get some work done today." I shoved my chair away from him, sick to death of this day already and it was only nine o'clock.
"Sheesh. Fine. And it was INXS by the way. 'Need You Tonight.'"
"Never heard of them," I said, just to annoy him.
"Never heard of them?" His stupid mouth hung open. "Are you for real?"
"Yep," I lied. "Don't know of them. Don't want to."
I ignored his shocked gaze and the shocked silence that followed my statement, instead putting on my own glasses, reveling in the moment of quiet, and got back to work. I looked at some of the things I needed to do today, a few phone calls, a manuscript to read over, a cover to approve, a proposal to fine tune... all of it way too important to hand off to Mr. INXS over here, whose eyes I could still feel studying me.
"So I'm done with my paperwork," he said.
"Already?" I'd hoped that would last him until after lunch at least.
"Yep. And I was hoping you'd give me an overview, you know, tell me everything I need to know about Insight Ink, all the down and dirty details, what really goes on in a place like this."
"Have you never worked in publishing before?" I asked.
"Nope. My mom pulled some strings though, and that's how I got this job."
I blinked at him, stunned, shocked, utterly flabbergasted that he would just freely admit that. " Your mom? " I asked. "What are you like eight?" Although as soon as the words were out of my mouth, I realized I was no better than him. I was just hiding it all.
He shrugged, clearly not bothered by my insult. "You've gotta use whatever advantages you have in this world to get ahead."
I ignored the fact that he might have made a valid point. "So... I'm what you call an acquisitions editor. In a nutshell, I scout and sign new authors, evaluate manuscripts, and help guide writers through the publication process."
"Mm-hmm," he said, his eyes glazing over.
Lovely. "And do you know anything about Insight Ink?"
"Not really."
Did the man ever hear of doing his homework? How did he get this job anyway? His mom must have called in some major favors. "So Insight Ink is dedicated to publishing compelling non-fiction that informs and inspires readers."
He stifled a yawn, the asshole. How was I supposed to train this guy on the finer points of my job when he couldn't even listen to the most basic stuff?
"You ever met the CEO dude, Max whatever his name is?" he asked.
"Max Sterling is his name. How could you not know who the CEO is and what we do here? Did you not prepare at all for your interview?"
"Oh, I was plenty prepared," he answered, his tone full of some weird innuendo that I didn't want to ask about. "So if you're some big shot acquisitions editor, what are you doing wasting your time in a smaller place like this and not at one of the big publishing houses?"
"I'm not wasting my time. I actually love it here. It's more personal, and I feel like I can really make a difference."
He stared at me like I was speaking a different language. Which maybe I was to him. Or maybe he was reading between the lines of what I'd said, that he somehow surmised that I had indeed started at one of the bigger houses, courtesy of my family's connections, and it'd been pure misery.
"And what about that Veronica chick?" he had the audacity to ask. "She seems a little harsh."
"First of all, she's not a chick. And if I ever hear you call a woman a chick again, I swear to God I'll report you."
"Damn. Fine, Dee."
"And she's not harsh." I looked around but no one was nearby. "Well, maybe a little," I amended in a hushed tone before realizing that'd been pretty stupid to say to jerk face. "She's fair and expects a lot from us. Including herself."
"And what about her boss?"
"I suppose that would be Max Sterling. And he's... well..." I remembered to bite my tongue because I had no idea whether or not Jared could be trusted. "No comment."
"No comment? Wow. That says everything."
Oh, shit. He was right. Even though I knew firsthand that Max Sterling was a pretty face with a shitty attitude, I needed to backpedal. Over the years, I'd met him several times at events and he never remembered who I was, acting like it was the first time he'd ever seen me, like he was leagues above me. And he'd been the same way with my sisters.
"Max Sterling is amazing," I gushed. "The most wonderful, thoughtful, creative, inspirational visionary we could have at the helm of Echelon Enterprises. And I just adore his addiction to alliteration."
"Addiction to alliteration?"
"You know what that means, right?" If he was in publishing and didn't know the meaning of alliteration, it was going to be the end of me. Seriously. I was about to march into Veronica's office and ask her exactly what qualifications Jared had to be working here.
"Of course I do," he scoffed at me. "But I don't think Max Sterling has an alliteration problem. I'm sure there are plenty of companies under Echelon that don't have alliteration."
"He most definitely does have an alliteration problem," I argued. "Echelon Enterprises. Insight Ink," I said, counting off on my fingers. "Max Media. Empire Entertainment. Sterling Syndicate. Sunrise Stu—"
"Right. I get it," he said, cutting me off. "Well, I happen to like it."
"Oh, well, goodie. I'm sure Max Sterling would be happy to hear that the new guy Jared, who knows absolutely nothing about publishing , approves of his plan to take over the world with alliteration."
He looked at me, a wounded expression written all over his face, before bursting into laughter. "My deepest apologies," he finally said. "I guess I missed the memo where newbies aren't allowed to offer their opinions."
Oh, God. Was this really my life now? Dealing with this crap every single minute of every single day for as long as we both worked here?
"You're—"
Mona walked up right then and introduced herself to Jared, saying she wanted everyone to meet him, taking him off my hands for a long while as she walked him around the office and gave him a tour, along with proper introductions. It was something I should have done, or rather Veronica should have done. But she hadn't for some reason, and my annoyance with Jared had made me forget absolutely everything, like basic office training protocol.
I flicked a pink balloon that was part of my birthday décor while I thought about what work to give Jared. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, I trusted him with.
By the time he came back, though, I had placed a huge stack of unsolicited manuscripts on his desk, something he immediately noticed, giving me a quizzical look, brows raised above his glasses.
"What's all this?" he asked.
"My slush pile. Now your slush pile."
What I didn't say was I'd already gone through it, and these were the discards. So in other words, there was no chance that Jared could fuck it up.
"And I'd like a summary of each one... if you can handle it," I couldn't resist adding.
"If I can handle it? Please. How hard could it be?"
I smothered a smile at his words, knowing that going through the slush pile could be exhausting—hard on the eyes, mind-numbing, headache-inducing and could test even a saint's patience. And I'd given him the added job of writing a synopsis, which was the busiest busy work I could think of.
What I hadn't thought of? That Jared would be sitting next to me all the damn time. After enduring nearly an hour of pen clicking and chair whirling, I was about to murder someone.
"You know you can find someplace more comfortable to work," I said to him.
He turned to me, shoving his glasses up his nose. "What?"
"There's a really comfortable couch right over there." I pointed to the far wall next to the huge bookcase. "You can spread out, have a cup of coffee, enjoy a snack."
"Snack?"
"Yeah. Did anyone show you the snack stash? There's always amazing stuff in there. That's maybe the best part of working here."
He smiled. "Say less. Where is this magical snack stash?"
Seizing the chance to be alone with my thoughts for just a moment even, I pointed down the hallway. "In the breakroom. Right down there on the left."
And then I had a heavenly reprieve where I could actually hear myself think again. There were other people all around me in our open office, but they never bothered me the way Jared did in the short amount of time he'd been here. Of course, he was physically closer than anyone else.
But still, the whole thing made me rethink the open office trend, longing for my old place of work where I'd had a door I could shut.
Speak of the devil... Jared returned, arms loaded down with a shitload of food.
"Is there anything left in there for the rest of us?" I asked.
He spilled it all onto his desk. "What kind of pig do you think I am? Obviously, I left some. I just needed a lot because reading and snacking go together like... well, like..."
"Searching for a simile?"
"Like movies and popcorn! Like rainy days and fuzzy blankets. Like campfires and marshmallows. Like—"
"I get it. I get it. And don't you want to take all your snacks over there to the comfy couch?" I looked longingly into the distance, imagining Jared so many feet away from me.
After sitting down, he leaned back, doing the whirly thing again. "Nah. This chair is great."
With the heaviest of sighs I'd ever sighed, I turned back to my computer, trying once more to compose an email to one of my favorite authors, even managing to type out a few sentences.
Until the sound of a bag being torn open interrupted me. Then the constant crinkling noises. Then the loud munching of Jared eating chips. And more chips. And popcorn. And crunchy cookies. And oh, my God. I was ready to kill him again.
Grabbing my phone, I stood up, Jared's surprised face glancing up at me. "What's up, Dee?"
I bit my tongue from what I truly wanted to say, that he was the most obnoxious person to ever exist on this planet. "I need to make a few phone calls," I said instead through gritted teeth.
"Sure. I'll just get back to my new slush pile, which is absolutely riveting by the way."
Was that sarcasm I detected? Opening my mouth to say something, I decided to just walk away. Walk away. That was going to be my new motto regarding Jared. Or maybe stay away or keep away. Just outright avoidance as much as possible.
It was necessary for my survival at this point.
After a few phone calls in our office phone booth, and maybe taking a little extra time—er, a lot of extra time—it was finally time for my birthday lunch, a big group of us going out. I felt a tiny bit bad about not asking Jared. But my God, did I need some time away from him.
"I'm feeling guilty about not inviting Jared," I said to Mona beside me as I tore off a piece of bread.
"Oh, I asked him." She took the bread basket from me. "But he said no."
"He said no?" Should I be offended?
"Yeah, something about too many snacks and he wasn't hungry."
Oh. That made sense. Forgetting about Jared, I enjoyed being the center of attention, only cringing a little when people sang happy birthday to me.
And when we got back, Jared still sat at his desk, empty snack bags spilling out from his trash can.
"Have a good lunch?" he asked.
"Excellent. Thank you."
"I'm sure you missed me."
"Oh, yes. Missed you tons."
"I know. But just be grateful that you got the best gift of all today."
"I did?" I hadn't even received any actual gifts yet, so I had no clue what the man was talking about. "What's that?" I asked.
"Me of course."
Fuck me. And fuck my life.