Chapter 2
Brielle
I’m six hours into my new job, and everything had been going great through my morning orientation. Although, I have an ominous feeling that all that’s about to change.
“You don’t want him to even know who you are. Just keep your head down and stay under the radar,” Erica says. She’s the other staff accountant on Rui’s team. Her dark, curly hair is pulled back tightly, slick to her head until the puff of curls pops up behind her.
“Not unless you want to end up like Daniel,” Rui adds with a sad headshake.
He quickly looks up and plasters on a smile.
“Not that you have anything to worry about. Daniel obviously didn’t produce the results that Satan wanted, but you don’t have to worry about that.
I’m sure you’ll do great. Like Erica said, just keep your head down, and you’ll be fine. ”
“I’m sorry, did you say Satan?” I asked, concern lacing my voice. Nothing about this place or these people screams occult, but that’s probably how they get you.
“Oh, that’s what everyone here calls the boss. His name is Damian,” Rui says.
“Fitting, isn’t it?” Erica adds, talking more with her eyes than with her words.
“He’s basically the devil in disguise.”
Great. Leave one job where my colleagues are pure evil, only to end up at another job where the boss is.
It wasn’t that all of my colleagues were evil, to be honest. But enough of them were that I had to get out.
I set my computer on the desk that’s going to be mine and start getting everything hooked up. The day is almost over, but the HR orientation took up most of the morning, so I’m just meeting my new teammates now.
“What makes him so bad?” I ask.
“He can be a real… “ Rui trails off.
“Dick,” Erica finishes for him. “He’s all, ‘where’s my reports?’ and ‘get back to work,’” she says in a fake deep voice. “He never chats with us underlings. It’s like all he cares about is work.”
That’s fine with me. I’m not here to make friends. I did that at the last place, and look how that turned out. Apparently, being friends with your male boss could only ever be for strategic gain… at least according to half the people at my last job.
I don’t want to come off as cold to my new manager and colleague, so I don’t tell them that that suits me just fine.
“Well, what can I do to be helpful?” I say instead.
Rui helps me get logged in to my new computer, but none of the applications that we use are set up yet.
“I don’t think IT expected you to be working today since it was your orientation day,” he explains. “I’m sure it will be sorted out in the morning.”
“Okay, sure.” My gaze snags on the office across the hall.
Everyone is working quietly, their heads down as they type away.
Truthfully, I would rather be doing their research than the accounting stuff anyway.
Or better yet, the actual marketing for a client.
That’s what drew me to apply at CreativEdge in the first place.
Sure, my degree and experience is all in accounting.
I did the responsible thing growing up, went to school for something with stability and good job prospects.
But once I was actually working in the field…
to say I understand why people make jokes about accounting being the most boring job is an understatement. I live it every day.
The mind-numbing time spent behind a screen.
The lack of social interactions with new and interesting people.
The slog of looking at numbers and financial coding all day.
It’s a good job. An important one if anyone wants their business to succeed, but that doesn’t make it any more interesting.
I open a browser on my computer and try a few basic searches to find the information Mr. Edgerton is looking for.
There isn’t anything else I can do at the moment since I have nothing specific to work on and no access to the company’s applications.
One site leads to another. An article I find links a database with more information.
The sound of Rui and Erica packing up for the day startles me, and when I glance at the clock, I realize that two hours have flown by while I went headlong down an internet spiral. I put my notes in order and set them aside for tomorrow.
“Sorry we didn’t get a chance to train you today,” Rui says, slipping his arms into his thick wool coat. “Tomorrow, we can go over everything you’ll need to know. If your access isn’t ready, we can just use my computer.”
“I appreciate it. Thanks.” I look back at the corner of my desk where my notes lie. An itchy feeling creeps under my skin. Leaving a task incomplete doesn’t settle right with me. But it isn’t even my task. It’s not my job.
But in my interview, they did stress how much this company values teamwork and initiative. Maybe I’ll just take the notes with me… just in case.
No. They don’t need some brand-new accountant to do their research for them. I’m sure they’ve got it well in hand.
“See you tomorrow.” Erica waves as she rushes out the door.
I say good night to Erica and follow Rui out the door a moment later, snagging the notebook off my desk on the way out and stuffing it in my purse.
The walk back to my apartment is icy and cold.
I grew up in Colorado, where my family still lives, and somehow, I thought that moving to Boston would involve milder winters.
I guess it was true, but that doesn’t mean the cold isn’t bone-deep.
The early February chill turns my fingers numb, even shoved deep into my pockets like they are, and my nose is cold and runny.
I slip my key into the lock of my apartment and push the door open to the dry radiator-heated warmth just as my phone starts to ring. I quickly hang my jacket and kick off my shoes before I answer.
“Hey, Ev,” I say, placing the call with my sister on speakerphone.
“Hi, sis. Today was your first day at your new job, right? How’d it go?”
“Good, I guess. Orientation took up most of the day, so I haven’t really got my feet wet yet,” I tell her.
“Did you ask about the vacation policy?” she asks, her words dripping with hope. I can basically see the wide eyes and expectant smile over the phone.
“It’s a ninety-day waiting period before any benefits kick in. No paid time off, no insurance, no retirement savings until the probationary period is over,” I tell her.
“But did you ask for an exception? You can’t miss Gran and Gramps’s anniversary party, Bri. They’ve been married for sixty years.”
“I know, but considering everyone at the office calls the boss Satan, I don’t exactly see an exception in my future.
” I walk to my bedroom and put the phone on the bed.
The formfitting dress I wore to the office today is pretty comfortable, but it can’t compete with a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt now that I’m back home.
“You’ll still try though, right?” she pleads.
Evelyn is one of those optimistically bullheaded people. The kind who moves through life as if it will always work out and everyone else can just catch up. And for her, it usually does.
When she decided that she wanted to be a schoolteacher and everyone tried to tell her how criminally underpaid they are, she forged right ahead anyway, despite knowing how difficult being financially strapped could be, given our upbringing.
It wasn’t like we were destitute; our parents always kept a roof over our heads, food in our bellies, clothes on our back. But sometimes those clothes came from Goodwill. And sometimes that food needed to last a couple of meals to get us through the week.
It’s the reason why I chose to go into a field with strong job prospects and a decent wage.
But Evelyn, she wouldn’t be deterred. And then, in her sophomore year of college, she met finance major turned investment banker Jeff and fell madly in love. And she’s never had to worry about money ever since.
For her, things work out for the best simply because they do. She doesn’t understand that sometimes, oftentimes, it takes more than hard work and a false sense of optimism to get your way. Sometimes it just isn’t in the cards.
“I don’t know, Ev. I just started there. I can’t exactly ask for favors. I mean, someone just got fired today, and he reamed out the entire research department.” If I were her, a freak accident would have us shut down the same day that I need off or something. But I’m not her; I’m me.
“You’re not trying to get out of it just because Cassie and Jason are going to be there, are you?”
A grunt falls past my lips at the sound of their names. “No. I don’t care about them. I just wish they understood that.”
“Good. I can ask Jeff if his friend is still single. That way, you can show up with a date,” she offers. I open my mouth to shut that down, but she’s still mumbling to herself about which of her husband’s friends would be the best prospect for her poor dateless sister.
“Evelyn, no. I’m good. Really.”
“Well, I’ll ask anyway, in case you change your mind. Just get that Friday off, okay?” She hangs up before I can say anything else.
I sink down into my couch with a sigh. It’s no use getting worked up over it. I’ll cross that bridge with her when the time comes.
Although, I do wish I could go to the anniversary party. It’s a big deal to make it sixty years married to the same person.
The door opens, and I pop my head up from the couch to see my roommate and best friend, Holly, rush in, shaking the chill from her bones.
“Hey, did you have to park around the block?” I ask.
“Yes. Stupid Greg and his stupid truck took up two spots in front of the building. I should call the landlord and have him towed,” she snaps.
“Get yourself into something comfy,” I say, changing the subject. “We’ve got two episodes of our show to catch up on.”
“Fine. I’ll leave it… for now. But only because I’m cold and miserable and you look way more comfortable and I’m jealous,” Holly says, her face crunched up in a pout.
We watch a couple of episodes of our show together, but my mind keeps slipping away, the unfinished research like a fly buzzing around my head.
As Holly starts the next episode, I pull the notebook from my bag and collect my laptop from my room.
I’m not sure if I’m even going to submit all of this, but the restlessness in me won’t let up until I finish what I started.
As soon as I get to the office the next morning, swiping my new key card for the first time, I sit at my desk and open the file that I sent to myself last night.
It took well into the night to sift through all of the companies and their marketing and branding methods.
I put all of the information I’ve collected into a spreadsheet with links to the backup documentation, relevant articles, and revenue trends for the past ten years for those companies that are required to publish that information to the public.
I shoot an email off to Damian Edgerton with everything attached, but since I’m still new and haven’t figured out the quirks for everyone yet, I decide to print everything to hand deliver to him as well.
He’s sitting in his glass-paned office, the blinds drawn but the slats open. I knock on his heavy wooden door, peeking my head to the side so I can look through the glass. His brow furrows in confusion as he looks at me through the blinds.
“Come in,” he calls.
“Mr. Edgerton, hi. I just wanted to drop this off for you,” I say, placing the file on the corner of his desk. Everyone I’ve spoken to at CreativEdge has told me the same thing: keep your head down, don’t make direct eye contact, place the folder on the desk, and back away quickly.
Mr. Edgerton glances up at me, his dark eyes connecting with mine, his full lips pulled into a straight line.
Looks like avoiding eye contact has gone straight out the window.
I nod and turn to leave when I hear him ask, “What’s this?”
“The research you were asking for,” I answer, turning to face him again.
His heavy brow quirks up, and his gaze travels the length of me, not with any emotion, but with a question in his eyes. “I thought you were the new accountant.”
“I am.”
“Then why are you wasting time working on research?” His question comes out gruff, his smooth voice clipped and direct.
“It piqued my interest, and I had some time yesterday,” I reply, pulling my shoulders back. For better or worse, I don’t break eye contact, ignoring every piece of advice I was given. “I wasn’t slacking off. I did most of it at home after work.”
“We have a team of people whose job it is to specifically do that.” He sounds more confused than upset. But I enjoyed digging around the internet for information and finding trends. Besides, my brain wouldn’t let me quit with the work half-done.
“Okay. Well, I did the research anyway.” I shrug, an uncomfortable wariness settling over me.
I should have just let it go, but their insistence in my interview that this was the kind of place where departments worked together and everyone pitched in made me think my contribution was in line with their expectations.
Now, I’m not so sure. “You don’t have to use any of it, but it’s there for you if you want it. ”
“Right…” He trails off, looking down at the folder on the desk. He reaches for it, his face a mask of curiosity. I turn to leave again, but again, he stops me, asking a question to my back. “Am I supposed to retype this myself?”
I spin around and see him holding up a page from my spreadsheet with disgust, flipping it around to look at the double-sided printing.
“I wasn’t sure if you were a paper person or a digital person—” I start.
“Do I look like a paper person?” He glares.
I look him over, really look him over, and decide that no…
he definitely doesn’t look like a paper person.
I didn’t realize yesterday, when he was reaming out the team across the hall, that he was actually pretty young to own such a successful firm.
He can’t be older than his early thirties.
Dark brown hair, olive skin, and those deep, dark eyes that are burrowing into me.
He’s decked out in a business suit, jacket, and tie.
The scruff on his face somehow highlights his sharp cheekbones and jawline instead of detracting from it.
“Then it’s a good thing it’s already in your email as well,” I answer with a smile.
He drops the folder on his desk and goes back to his computer. I wait for a moment, wondering if he’s looking for the email, but he doesn’t say anything, and the longer I wait, the more awkward it gets.
Without a word of thanks, I turn and finally manage to escape his office.
Apparently, the devil has left Georgia, because he’s currently residing in a New England high-rise.