Chapter 9
NINE
SOPHIE
Whoever invented the phrase TGIF needed to be handed a bucket of THC-filled cherry gummies and a cream soda as a thank-you, because nothing had ever quite described the feeling Sophie had getting a break from Ella after spending the last two weeks together.
And after that little stint yesterday, when Ella took a long, leisurely lunch—leaving Sophie scrambling to cover a meeting she thought Ella was running—she needed some serious space. Ella had seemed excited, stoked even, to lead her first meeting. Sophie might be type B or C in her private life, but at work she was a proud type A-er. It had taken a lot for her to relinquish the reins for an hour. And of course she was prepared, because she wanted to support Ella if she fell, but she wasn’t prepared , prepared, at least not the way she would’ve been if she owned the meeting. And when 2:25 p.m. had rolled round and she had not heard a word from Ella, she stumbled with creating an agenda and she. Was. Furious.
Sophie stepped into the office. It wasn’t quite 7:30 yet, and Ella was reading her laptop screen with a half bottle of water and a last bite of a breakfast sandwich littering her desk. Sophie walked up behind her, ignoring the way the blunt black hair grazed the back of her neck, not looking at her long, smooth fingers tapping against the keyboard, definitely not noticing how the dark and citrusy scent hit her nose.
“Morning,” Ella said, seemingly avoiding eye contact as usual, as she looked at her monitor and nothing else.
“Morning.” Sophie’s tone was flat by intention. She tried to logically think about this situation. If it were a different trainee, would she have kindly taken them aside and explained when they set a meeting, they were expected to be there? Would she have given a butt-chewing about if they weren’t five minutes early, they were five minutes late? Would she have had a heart-to-heart and talked about how to make it in the corporate world?
Sophie shushed the guilt knowing even though she told Ella to take whatever time she needed for lunch, no one exceeded twenty-five minutes for a lunch unless it was a required team-bonding event. But why did Ella scooting out of there like this job wasn’t her life, her love, her freaking wife like it was for Sophie make her so irate?
Bottom line, Ella wasn’t just any trainee. She had privileges that no one else did. She was un-fireable . Promotable without merit. The CEO’s goddamn kid, who could do what she wanted, when she wanted. And that tied Sophie’s hands. Was she really supposed to scold Ella for having lunch with the CEO? What if that got back to George? It’d be Sophie’s job on the line, not Ella’s.
“Hey, um, I’m really sorry about yesterday and the lunch and everything.” Ella’s cheeks pinked. “My dad wanted to take me out.”
Must be nice to get extra perks . Ella completely effed up Sophie’s dream of being a trainer. The one shot Malcolm gave her to test out her managerial chops, and Ella made it impossible. Should Sophie even give Ella any assignments? Just assume she was unreliable, but would probably rise in the ranks and be her boss one day? Whatever it was, Sophie was completely and totally over it. “Understood.”
Ella pulled in her lips. She opened her mouth, then closed it, and released a sigh through her nose. “Won’t happen again.”
The next few hours the only words spoken were work-related. Gentle banter, gone. Smiles, gone. Sophie kept her tone even, professional, and shelled out the minimal information needed to get her point across.
Sophie had to give some credit to Ella. Since this morning, Sophie wasn’t sure if Ella so much as left to use the bathroom. During moments of downtime, Ella’s screen filled with training videos, she scoured the digital asset repository for old creative, or she reviewed retired project plans.
Why did people like Ella always win? Why was the rich girl in high school always chosen as prom queen, why did the woman with the Gucci bag get seated first at a restaurant, why did the pretty woman get away with murder? It wasn’t fair. Over the years, her mom had told her stories of the prep school kids who went into her diner, hassled the waitresses, made a mess, and left. Or how businessmen with chunky gold Rolexes used to pinch her butt. Or how the suburban moms would come in with their custom-embroidered canvas bags fresh from the market dripping with flowers and make comments like “This place is just so… cute . They must use special freshener here—I can hardly smell the grease like last time.”
But really, what Sophie hated most was the monster festering inside that wasn’t who she was. If Harper were watching, Sophie would be mortified. How would she justify treating someone like this? Just because she wasn’t outwardly awful, or screaming at Ella like the grocery store manager where Sophie worked when she was fifteen, didn’t mean she was being kind.
Sophie clicked her fingers against the underside of the chair. Enough . Like it or not, they had to work together. And, besides Ella leaving for lunch, she’d been kicking ass since day one. Olive-coffee-branch time. “I’m going to grab an espresso. Want me to make you one?”
“No, I had plenty at home.” Ella sipped from the water bottle and swiped her lip with a thumb. “I wanted to let you know I’ll be leaving for a few hours this afternoon.”
Are. You. Kidding. Me! Sophie handed her a branch, and Ella just took that stick and shoved it up her… Whatever. Less than three weeks in, and Ella took an extended lunch yesterday and then leaves early on a Friday? You earned that right after paying dues. And as far as Sophie was concerned, Ella was in her overdraft.
Ella was an amateur. And a bit of this made Sophie smile. Everyone knew that you didn’t leave early on your first few weeks of work. Hell, on your first year of work. You arrived first, left last. You picked up the crap work that your manager didn’t want to do. You rolled up your sleeves and helped co-workers build a PowerPoint presentation. You did boring content QA. You fucking hustled—you didn’t leave early .
“Did you hear me?” Ella asked, her fingers suspended over the keyboard.
“I heard you.”
Ella exhaled through her nose. “I couldn’t tell because you didn’t say anything.”
Sophie’s face flamed. “What do you want me to say? I’m not your boss. I don’t need to give you permission. For a newbie, I’d normally tell you to check with the manager, but since your dad is the CEO, I sincerely doubt the same rules apply to you.”
Ella’s bottom lip clamped between her teeth. She pounded her keyboard with such ferocity that the letters were likely to crack off and pop across the room.
The cursor froze on Sophie’s computer. She clicked and shook the mouse. And clicked again. Really? Tossing Post-its, notepads, and too many pens aside, she dug around the desk drawer for replacement batteries. She slammed the drawer and rummaged through a different one.
Stupid low batteries . She didn’t have time for this. Her heavy combat boots thudded against the floor as she crossed over to the storage room.
Malcolm was inside, digging through a cabinet. “Morning, sunshine.” He tossed a quick glance behind his shoulder. “What are you doing?”
She banged one cabinet, then another. Where are the goddamn batteries? “Is our admin out or something? How am I supposed to work if I can’t even get batteries for my freaking mouse?”
“Whoa, whoa.” He held up his hands. “It’s way too close to the weekend for this much aggression.” He opened the cabinet to the left of him and pointed. “The admin sent out an email that they reorganized the supplies. You must not have seen it?”
She ripped a package from the shelf and looked up as Malcolm dipped his head. “What are you looking at?”
He lifted his dad eyebrow that could deflect anything, and she softened. “Sorry.” She exhaled. “I sound like a jerk.”
He brought his index finger and thumb an inch apart. “Just a tad.” He tugged on his black beard and leaned against the counter. “This is what burnout looks like, Sophie. You’re a classic, textbook case. You need to slow down.”
She vise-gripped the package, but finally admitted defeat and handed it over. “No, I need to hustle now, so I can slow down later.”
He tore the wrapping and dropped the batteries in her hand. “I really hate that I’m contributing to your pressure so you can go on the cruise.”
“I’m glad you are.” The last thing she needed was for him to change his mind and say she couldn’t go anymore. The cruise was the only thing keeping her afloat. “I want this so bad. I just… Ugh.” She scraped at her thumbnail paint with her other thumb.
Malcolm stood silently for several long moments, then tossed the packaging into recycling, and rested against the wall. “Talk to me.”
Malcolm had a new baby. And a wife, diaper duty, a lawn to mow, and dishes to clean. He had multiple employees, juggled reports, expenses, client meetings, and God knew what else. Fresh dark circles lined under his eyes, and yawns replaced his normal laughter. The very last thing he needed was her complaining.
“Sophie.”
“I hate working with Ella.” She glanced up at him, praying she didn’t see disappointed eyes. “When you told me I was training someone, I had no idea it would be King George’s freaking daughter—who’s never had a job in her life.”
Malcolm crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Hmmm. Lack of experience is tough, but she’s educated, smart, and dedicated, right? Or is she slacking?”
Sophie might have been pissed about Ella leaving early on a Friday night to swing by Tiffany’s for a two-week charm bracelet, but it wasn’t her style to tattle. “Nah. I mean, she’s here early, stays late, and pays attention.”
“You always wanted to be a trainer, right? You realize not every trainee will be perfect.”
The words sunk low and heavy. He was right. Part of proving she could handle this mentor role meant she needed to choke back the irritation. The last thing she needed was Malcolm thinking she couldn’t make it as a leader. She rolled the batteries in her palms and exhaled, relaxing her stomach.
She leaned forward, squinting at a white stain on his shoulder. “Dude, what’s up with your shoulder?”
He pinched the fabric and peeked. “Ugh. Baby spit.”
She grinned. “How’s the lack of sleep going for you?”
“Amazing, as you can see.” He swiped at his shoulder. “I’m going to clean up. Be easy on her. She’s new.”
Sophie left the room as Malcolm’s words sunk in. She jutted her head to a copywriter who dragged themselves with what looked like a gnarly hangover. After rounding the corner, she sucked in a breath as she approached the desk.
“I think the creative brief came in.” Ella’s words were sharp. “At least that’s what the email said. I scanned it but wasn’t sure if you wanted to review it together.”
The brief? Did she not have her alerts on? She would’ve jumped on that immediately, mid-conversation with Malcolm or not. “When did it come in?”
“About ten minutes ago, when you stormed out of here.”
“I did not storm.” Okay, fine, she might have stormed.
“Sure,” Ella muttered.
Maybe she deserved a little pushback.
Ella thumbed her glasses. “It was lighter than expected. Not sure if this is a standard objective statement or not.”
Sophie hated that Ella had seen it first. Hated . Sophie should be the one coming to Ella—the trainee—breaking down what they needed, teaching her about objectives and statements and spotting when a team would need clarification.
“What did they teach you in your classes about the brief?” Sophie didn’t mean it to come out as harsh as it did. She genuinely meant the question to gauge Ella’s baseline understanding, but her subconscious slipped through her tone.
“They, ah.” She squared her shoulders. “At UW…”
U-dub . If Ella muttered those words one more time, Sophie might toss a docking station through the skyrise window.
“We reviewed templates and wrote mock ones with the, ah…” She looked at the wall and chewed on her cheek. “…with the demographics and requirements and things.”
Demographic, requirements, and things ? She hated the voice in her head, hated the way she felt a bubbling dam inside her about to break. She wanted to pull it in, stop it from rising, but she couldn’t. But she was tired… so freaking tired. And Ella was leaving early, Ella went to college, Ella got everything. It was so deeply unfair how people just got things depending upon where they were born—a fancy home, an education, even health insurance, for God’s sake.
She was done.
“ Things , huh? So, if someone says they are targeting an eighteen-to-thirty-year-old demographic, then that’s good? Hey all, create an entire marketing campaign based on the requirement that it’s not a heaping pile of shit, and things .”
The words were unfair, but so was this entire situation. She was already further behind than had she just run this entire campaign by herself, but she couldn’t give up now. Letting Malcolm down or showing her co-workers that she couldn’t hack it as a project manager, was not an option.
Ella’s fingers spread across her desk, her knuckles turning white. “Why are you such a?—”
“Such a what?”
Ella crossed her arms. She turned to Sophie, not only making eye contact, but hard eye contact. Fiery eye contact. “A bully.”
“A bully?” Was she kidding ? Bullies were the girls who ganged up on Sophie in the seventh grade. Bullies were the men she worked with at the pier who said, “Good thing you’re cute, ’cause you’d never make it otherwise.” A bully was how Ella treated her the first time they met, degrading her and making her sob in the bathroom. “You cannot be serious. You are the one who is a bully.”
“Me? Me?” Ella’s hands smacked against her thighs. “I have done nothing but eat your shit with a spoon these last two weeks. Seriously, what have I ever done to you?”
“I can’t believe you,” Sophie hissed. “When we first met…”
“When I first met you? What? I barely even remember you.” Ella’s head snapped back, and her darkening gaze flickered between Sophie’s eyes. “Clearly you don’t make the impression you think you do.”
She barely even remembers meeting me? How Ella made her feel that day gutted her, enough to leave a six-year lasting impression.
Ella exhaled through her teeth. “You have not given me a chance to prove myself.”
Enough! A chance? Everything Ella had gotten since the second she walked in here was a chance. “You are trying to pay your dues with the currency of your father’s legacy. You’ve probably done that your whole life, and it’s not going to work with me. CEO or not, you haven’t proven shit. In fact, the only thing you’ve proved thus far is your incompetence.”
Sophie winced at her own words, not recognizing them as they flew from her mouth. This was too far, totally unlike her, unfair, and her stomach sank. Jesus Christ. Maybe she was a bully.
Come on, yell. Please. Puff your shoulders, flare your nose, something . Ella sat for a moment, stiff and silent. Then, like an emotional domino, Ella’s shoulders slouched, then her head dipped, then her chin trembled. Behind the tortoiseshell glasses, Ella’s eyes filled with tears.
Shit. Oh no. No, no, no . She went too far, and the regret was instant, hot, and gross. “Ella, I’m so?—”
Ella sprung from her chair, pivoted like a dancer, and speed-walked out of the room.
And Sophie almost threw up.