Barbie
“Considering the fact that this is the third Saturday in a row where we’ve both been called in,” I say, squinting at the monitor to my right. “I think it’s time for you to finally admit the truth.”
“You don’t have to be here,” comes a stony response that brings a slight curve to my lips.
“I’d ask if you have plans for tonight,” Carter says flatly, “but we both already know the answer to that.”
My eyes roll while I restart the software. Whatever ounce of professionalism left between us died after we were asked to work on the weekends. “Your words would pack a much bigger zing if you weren’t right here in the trenches with me, buddy.”
“Not for long,” he says. “I’m going to make this as quick and painless as possible—Don’t say it.”
“Say what?” I ask, and I have half the inclination to turn on my camera so he can see me blinking in my innocent glory. “Whatever do you mean, Carpal Tunnel Syndrome?”
“How long have you been saving that one?” he asks blandly. I beam something smug at my laptop’s screen. “Anyway, I can’t stay long. I gotta go to the hospital real quick.”
“For your second job?” I whisper under my breath. “Ferrying souls to the underworld?”
“Hey, Barb,” he replies without missing a beat. “What are your thoughts on captcha tests?”
“On what?”
“What about ones and zeroes?”
I stare at his grainy profile picture in confusion. Is that a nickname he wants me to call him by, or is he trying to psych me out? “What’s that supposed to mean, Casserole?”
“Interesting.” Notes of amusement thread his voice. “I would have thought you’d feel right at home with me speaking your language.”
“You’re barely making any sense in English right now,” I mutter, and he huffs out a low, gritty chuckle. “Maybe it is a good thing you’re going to the hospital after all.”
He lets out an obnoxiously long sigh. “If you must know, my mom’s been in the hospital for the past week.”
My smile falters. “What?”
“She’s being discharged today, so I need to—”
“Wait,” I cut him off. “Are you serious?”
“Why would I joke about this?”
“Are you for real?” I ask, straightening my spine.
“She’s been in the hospital for the past week, and you’re only mentioning it now?
Not during any of the B&E meetings with Ed?
You’d rather”—I lower my voice to a deep register—“talk about sports, man, than mention the fact that your mother is. In. The. Hospital?”
“I fail to see why I’d bring her up during a call,” he says coolly. “And you’re one to talk. Especially when you’ve never been one to share any details about your life besides how sunny it is in Malibu,” he tacks on with a creaky rendition of what I have to assume is his attempt at a vocal fry.
Taking a deep, steadying breath, I prop my elbow on my desk and rest my cheek against my palm. He does have a point, though. I don’t talk about myself, but that’s because there’s really nothing to say. I have nothing going on in my life, which is embarrassing to admit.
Besides this one program I’ve applied for, which is in a completely different career field. Obviously, anyone with some wisdom would never mention they’re looking for other opportunities during work. It’s basically handing your employer a smoking gun and asking for an immediate termination.
“Is your mom okay?”
“Is it sunny in Malibu?” he counters.
“I’m glad she’s okay,” I say. As much as I dislike Carter, I would never wish for him to experience a fraction of what I’ve dealt with. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.
“Me too,” he says finally. “I have to go pick her up, but I’ll be back to check in on the status in an hour or so. You don’t have to stick around—”
“Don’t worry about it. I know what to do when it’s up again. I’ll work on updating next year’s mission statement or something in the meantime.”
“Mission statement? Did Ed tell us to work on it already?”
“No,” I say. “Just figured it couldn’t hurt to have my team goals updated, since Ed has a history of… springing things on us at the last minute.”
Case in point: the upcoming conference.
“We do have employee evaluations coming up.” He swears under his breath. “All right. We’ll need to make sure our statements are aligned when I get a chance to look at them. Later. You don’t have to stay—”
“I’m tired of the reports being delayed,” I grumble. With every daily production report being delivered midway through the day instead of seven a.m., my team’s scrambling to meet deadlines without pulling overtime.
Ed has already made it quite obvious to me during our last one-on-one call that no one on my team can stay late to catch up on work.
But he’s also made it explicitly clear that the company still expects the amount of output from my team to remain the same.
Anything less reflects poorly on my team and, consequently, my capability to lead them.
“They won’t be delayed.”
“Will you say this again next Saturday?” I deadpan, then bite my bottom lip. “And, um, by the way, if I had known your mom was in the hospital, I wouldn’t have made the joke.”
“You’d save it for another day?” comes his response, his words devoid of any warmth, and I wince.
“I mean, when would the opportunity arise for me to make that kind of joke?” I hedge. “That’s not the point. Look, I truly am sorry—”
“It’s fine. You didn’t know,” he says. “It’s nothing too serious, so don’t beat yourself up over it. It’s just hip surgery.”
My brow raises. Just hip surgery? “That sounds kind of serious, Carter.”
“Don’t worry about it, Barb. In a few weeks, she’ll be as good as new.”
“In a few weeks?” I glance at the corner of my laptop’s screen. “Will you still be able to make it to the conference?”
“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” he says dryly, and I frown. That’s not what I meant. Truthfully, I do not want to go to the conference. I’m not even sure what I should expect, given the lack of details Ed has given us since he announced that he’s taking Carter and me with him.
I don’t like being unprepared. I definitely don’t like being around people. More importantly, it takes away one of the weekends I could have spent apartment hunting with Bell.
Betty doesn’t know it yet, but Bell and I are planning on moving out of the office room we’re sharing right now before her school is back in session.
Our older sister’s already stressed out over every oddly specific detail about her wedding. The last thing she needs is to be blindsided by the fact that her younger sisters are leaving, too.
But it’s time.
I’ve definitely overstayed my welcome, even though both Betty and Vincent have been nothing but kind, supportive, and accommodating while I put myself back together after my seven-year relationship went up in flames.
I just turned twenty-nine this February. After scrounging two years’ worth of paychecks, I have enough savings to find a place to live on my own—if I wanted to. It makes sense to move out later this summer.
Besides the program I’ve applied for on a whim, Bell’s got a year left to finish her master’s in social work. Moving closer to LA would be more than practical for us both in the long run.
Also, Betty’s been taking care of Bell and me for seven years now.
It’s only fair she gets to start her own life once she ties the knot with her college sweetheart.
They’ve been pushing off so many things because of us: getting married, having kids, and even moving to Malibu for Vincent’s career.
She didn’t want to move away until our younger sister graduated from high school.
“So, you’re going to abandon your mom?” I ask. “While she’s recovering from hip surgery?”
A weary sigh escapes him. “I’ll ask Lara to keep an eye on her,” he says, and I lift a brow.
He’s never mentioned a Lara before. Although, when would he have the chance in between all the talk about sports, breweries, and hiking trails of his beloved home state?
Maybe I shouldn’t be surprised that Carter has a significant other.
Practically everybody at the company is married with kids.
It’s another reason why I don’t like talking about myself. Everybody will spend the first ten minutes of a meeting griping about their kid’s soccer team or anniversary plans with their spouses, and the only thing I have going on for me is the tub of ice cream I’m still working through.
“That’s really nice of her to do that for you,” I say, then peek over my shoulder when the door swings open. Bell freezes, then quietly shuffles to her bed with a small wave.
“Yeah,” he says absentmindedly. “You don’t have to stick around.”
“It’s fine,” I say, because it’s not like I have any other plan. Besides working through the tub of ice cream, which I’m saving for later this evening. “Again, I’m sorry—”
“Don’t be,” he says. “I have to leave, but I’ll be back in an hour, Barbot.”
“Bar-what?” I ask, but he hops off the call before I can ask him what the hell did he call me. Staring at my laptop in equal parts confusion and shock, I mutter, “I hope you’re not this rude to Lara.”
My teeth sink into my bottom lip as I stare at Carter’s offline icon, and a heavy little ball of guilt forms in the very center of my chest. I would have laid off on all the comments made this entire week if I had known he was going through something.
“Based on how quiet you’ve been for a minute, I’m assuming the meeting’s over,” Bell chimes in. “Which is great, because I found a place near campus that’d be fantastic for us.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. I emailed the agent, and she said she’ll give us a video tour tomorrow,” she says. “Since we can’t come in to look at the place.”
“I hope this is it,” I mutter, because with work, Betty’s wedding, my application under review, and the conference happening in less than two weeks? I’m starting to feel overwhelmed, to put it lightly. “I just want one less thing to deal with.”
“You should really consider taking some time off,” she says, and she holds up a finger before I can respond. “I’m serious. I don’t think you’ve left this room in years. When was the last time you did anything besides work?”