Chapter 5
LEXI
The orientation room was all glass and steel, with sunlight pouring in and reflecting off the marble floor. The air smelled like espresso, and I decided I liked this place already.
My day began with a warm welcome from the HR team, who briefly talked to me and five other new hires about the company’s mission, values, and culture. I filled out paperwork, covering everything from benefits enrollment to IT security agreements.
At the end of the orientation, we were shown to our individual cubicles. None of the other new hires were on my team, so I said my goodbyes and followed my manager, Rafael Suarez, as he led me to my floor.
“I wasn’t actually supposed to show you around,” he said with a cough. “That was Ned’s job. Your assigned mentor, you know. But, uh, given the circumstances … well, he was transferred to another department this morning. And Gary too.”
“Gary’s the senior engineer who’s supposed to train me?” I asked, glancing at the team structure printout in my hand.
Rafael nodded. “Yeah. They’ve been moved to the website team,” he said, sounding a little dejected. “Sudden reassignment. Happens a lot around here lately.”
Before I could ask more questions, he shifted topics, explaining the app’s live-chat feature I’d be assigned to. As we walked, he pointed out cozy, colorful collaboration nooks and introduced me to a few friendly faces.
He pointed out Brian Li and Stacey Andrews, two people on my team, as they walked past with cups of coffee. Brian was tall, with black hair and an easygoing smile, his jeans and T-shirt giving him a laid-back vibe. Stacey was petite, with piercing blue eyes and angular features.
Stacey’s sharp eyes flicked to me, and I saw her do a quick, assessing sweep of my outfit. I felt very conscious of the state of my clothes; even though I’d ironed them and made sure I looked presentable, they were not exactly fashionable.
“You’re on our team?” she asked, her tone perfectly neutral, but something in the way she said it made my stomach dip.
I nodded, forcing a smile. “Looks like it.”
Stacey took a slow sip of her coffee, her expression unreadable.
Rafael ignored her and turned to me. “Brian’s the senior-most person on the team. He’s been here for seven years now, but with how much he jokes, no one would guess it,” Rafael said. “And Stacey has been with us for less than a year—”
“But she’s already contributed more than I have,” Brian said with a grin, and Rafael laughed.
“True. And see what I mean about this guy and his jokes?” Rafael asked, shaking his head at Brian.
Stacey kept a serious expression. Even though she had seemingly contributed more, Brian was the favorite, it seemed.
I found my cubicle next to Stacey’s.
“Welcome,” Stacey said, turning to me. “I hope you’ll enjoy it here more than the last intern.”
“What happened to the last one?”
With the way she looked askance at my skirt, I could tell she was judging whether I’d fit in. Shit. I was starting to feel intimidated already.
“She transferred to the backend team after two weeks,” Stacey said wryly. “Said app coding wasn’t for her.”
I was surprised. “Two weeks before she switched?” My internship was supposed to last four months, and I couldn’t imagine giving up that quickly.
“We’re quite an intimidating team,” Brian added, placing his hands on his hips and puffing out his chest in an exaggerated attempt to look imposing.
I let out a small laugh, grateful for the break in tension.
“Well, I’ll consider myself warned then,” I said, smiling as I followed Rafael around the office.
He introduced me to a few more people and paused by a sleek tablet mounted on the wall.
“Employee feedback,” he explained, tapping the screen. “Anonymous.” His tone was casual, but something about the way he mentioned it made me take note.
When I finally sank into my chair that afternoon, my head was buzzing from everything I’d learned about the company and my new role.
“How was orientation today?” Brian quipped, swiveling around to look at me from his chair. “Did they talk your ear off about our new interim CEO, Lexi? The imposing Jonah—or Joe, as he’s known around here—Walkers?”
I stiffened at the name, and my cheeks went red. No, there was no chance. But I made a mental note to google Jonah Walkers’ picture when I had the time.
I looked between them, remembering our conversation from orientation. “Surprisingly, they didn’t mention Joe,” I said. “They talked a lot about the founder, Ed Walkers.”
Brian nodded sagely. “Everyone loves Ed. Not Joe.” He coughed, cutting himself off quickly, while Stacey looked away and continued tapping furiously at her computer.
I frowned. “Wait … Walkers? Are they related?”
Stacey let out a sharp laugh, but it lacked any real humor.
Brian glanced at her before turning back to me. “Yeah. Joe’s his son.”
That caught me off guard. “Oh,” I said slowly, processing the sudden weight behind the name. “That must be … complicated.”
Brian snorted. “You have no idea.”
Stacey just shook her head and kept typing.
“Jonah is a businessman. Not a techie. Get over it, Brian.”
Brian threw his hands up in the air as though that was all the invitation he needed.
“Joe shut down our free-drinks supply six days into his role at Altika. He’s temporary because the board is evaluating him before they appoint him as the permanent CEO.
And Stacey won’t let anyone say a word against him because she has a thing for him. ”
The speed with which Stacey’s head swiveled right to freeze Brian in his tracks pretty much confirmed it. And the two bright spots of red on her cheeks were further proof. “I don’t have a thing for him,” she hissed.
“Honestly, I know for a fact that half the women in this company have a crush on him,” Brian said.
“Are you speaking on behalf of all women, Brian?” Stacey demanded.
That silenced Brian, and he turned back to his monitor without a word.
“Is he that handsome?” I asked, half laughing as I wondered who this boring businessman might be.
“Haven’t you seen his picture?” Brian asked, and I shook my head.
“I don’t think I’ll ever need to know who he is,” I said.
Besides, I didn’t care for any other handsome dudes at the moment. I had a special one of my own to daydream about.
What was I doing, still thinking about him?
This was the reason I’d never consider a relationship. I’d had a fleeting one-night stand, and now I couldn’t stop thinking about this guy. He was the most gorgeous man I’d ever laid eyes on, and I found myself trying to think back to his beautiful face more than a few times during my day.
But I could just imagine what another failed relationship would do to mess me up.
No way.
“We’re coders,” Stacey said. “We don’t usually meet the CEO.” Under her breath, she muttered, “Even though I’d like to.”
Coders. For so long, I’d thought of myself as a receptionist, so this new identity would take some getting used to.
“Except for when we,” Brian began, “you know, get restructured.”
Stacey’s posture stiffened, and she gripped her keyboard a little too tightly, her knuckles faintly whitening. She shot Brian a sharp look, a don’t do this here kind of glance.
“What do you mean?” I asked, looking over.
Stacey spun her chair around. “There’s been talk that some departments might get restructured when Joe finalizes his strategy. We already lost Ned and Gary to other teams, but there are rumors that more changes are coming.” She sounded bitter.
I blinked. “Restructuring? What kind of changes?”
Stacey gave me a measured look. “Hopefully just reshuffling people between teams. They’re still hiring interns like you, after all. It makes no financial sense to train someone just to let them go. If they were planning major cuts, why would they be bringing in new people?”
“Because they’re disorganized,” Brian chimed in, slapping his hand on his desk. “No one tells us anything.”
My stomach twisted. If major changes were happening, why hadn’t they at least hinted at it during my interview? I could’ve considered other companies to apply to.
I hoped to God it was just the rumor mill in overdrive.
Stacey and Brian were in their twenties, like me, but I could sense neither of them had the kind of responsibilities that came with a kid.
A small ding announced a new email in my inbox, and I excused myself from the conversation to take a look.
It was from Joe Walkers, our interim CEO. My heart leapt to my throat for one ridiculous moment. What if he’d somehow overheard our conversation and was emailing me about it? Then I saw it had gone to other interns too.
The email was brief and devastating.
Subject: Company Updates
To our engineering interns,
I am writing to inform you of a significant change affecting our internship program. Due to necessary organizational restructuring, we will be ending the internship-to-hire pathway for the engineering department as of August 1st.
This means that current intern positions will conclude as scheduled, without the opportunity for full-time employment offers. This decision is entirely based on company-wide strategic adjustments and does not reflect your individual performance or value to the team.
Our HR department will contact each of you directly with information about your final pay, benefits, and next steps. This decision is final.
Thank you for your hard work and contributions. We wish you all the best in your career journeys.
Sincerely,
Joe Walkers
CEO
Shit, shit, shit.
Around me, work went on as normal. People chatted, typed, laughed at something on their screens. None of my colleagues were interns. None of them had gotten that email. I buried my face in my hands, feeling overwhelmed.
August 1st. Today was April 1st, which meant I could complete the entire four months of my internship.
Bringing my hands down, I turned back to my screen and skimmed the rest of the email again.
My blood boiled.
I wasn’t the kind of person who got angry easily, but something about being welcomed while simultaneously being discarded felt like a slap in the face.
Why the hell were they even hiring interns if they were planning to shut down the program soon?
I buried my face in my hands. It was my freaking first day of work. What perfect timing.
This was the worst way possible to start things off, knowing there was no hope for a full-time job in four months.
As for Evie, I’d have to find her a new preschool. It was something I hated the idea of since I’d already withdrawn her from her old one, and the waiting list to get back into it was a year long.
Frustration built up inside me as I saw Joe Walkers’s signature at the bottom of the email. His email address and phone number were listed, and I was very tempted to call him up and give him a piece of my mind.
I took a few deep breaths. That wouldn’t do. I’d probably reach Joe’s assistant, who didn’t need to hear a mouthful from me anyway.
Feeling dejected, I walked off to the women’s restroom.
Once the door closed behind me, I exhaled sharply, leaning against the door as I shut my eyes and willed myself to push through the rest of the day.
I could be angry later. But right now, I just had to make it to pickup time, where my daughter’s little arms would wrap around me, grounding me in something real.
Evie, with her bright eyes and endless questions.
Evie, who thought I was the smartest, strongest person in the universe, even when I felt like I was barely holding it together.
And no CEO, no layoff, no corporate nonsense could take that away from me.
When I pushed off from the door, I pulled out my phone, wondering if I had any updates from Evie’s preschool. All I found was a message from my landlord.
Subject: Rental Insurance Reminder
Hi, Lexi.
Just checking in to see if you’ve had a chance to send over the rental insurance proof for your renewed lease. I’m also sending a quick reminder that next month’s rent is due in three days.
Thanks!
Marvin Jones
My stomach clenched. Were we really due for next month’s rent payment already?
I had moved Evie out of her beloved preschool for this job. Renewed a one-year lease just days ago. And now, before my first lunch break, I was potentially soon-to-be-unemployed.
My hands curled into fists as I walked back to my desk.
I hated Joe Walkers.
Without a second thought, I strode over to the wall where I’d first noticed the employee feedback tablet. All feedback went directly to the CEO, I remembered Rafael telling me. It would be anonymous.
I reached for the tablet and the stylus, then opened a new message and wrote furiously, channeling my anger and frustration.
When I was done, chest heaving, I felt a little relieved to have gotten my thoughts out. I read through it once more. Anonymous or not, I knew I couldn’t send it. It was the most vehement, vicious thing I’d ever written.
Even my anger wasn’t able to mask the hurt underneath. Because beneath all the fury, the accusations, the sarcastic jabs was the undeniable truth that I had wanted to believe in this company, in this job, and in the people who ran this place.
And now, I couldn’t.
I exhaled, rubbing my temple, when out of the blue, someone tapped me on my shoulder, and I jumped, startled. I dropped the tablet, and it fell to the floor just as I spun around.
Brian was standing behind me. “I’ve been looking all over for you. Some other colleagues from our department are going to grab drinks after work today. I figured you could join us too.”
My gaze slid to the tablet, now face down on the floor, as my heart raced.
“Sorry, Brian,” I said. “I’ve got plans for tonight.”
And every night after.
Work could have my attention during the day, but Evie got my full attention during my evenings.
Brian nodded and walked away.
I stared at his back for a moment before I bent down to pick up the tablet. I turned it over. The text was wiped clean, which could only mean one thing.
My message had been sent.