Chapter 11
Rob had “taken a personal day” on Monday and “had appointments out of the office” all day today.
But I knew what was happening. He was avoiding me.
As I thought back over the past three years, I realized this was a pattern.
I brought up the promotion, he promised we’d talk about it, then he’d wait me out.
I couldn’t believe I’d let him get away with this so many times.
This time, I would outmaneuver him. I was his assistant.
I filled in his schedule all the time with appointments and calls.
I would add myself to his calendar. I’d even have another agent sit in so we both kept our hands where they belonged.
I pulled up his digital calendar for the week on my computer.
He had an opening on Friday at eleven. Without giving away that it was going to be a meeting with me, I added myself to his calendar with the words Meeting in office .
I even put my phone number after as the contact because I knew he didn’t have my number memorized.
It wouldn’t set off any alarm bells. It wasn’t that I didn’t want him to know it was our talk I scheduled, but I didn’t want him to prioritize something else over me.
Then I walked down the hall to the cubicles where I used to sit. Cole sat at his desk. If I were to guess, Cole was twenty-three. I knew he had literally just graduated the year before and had been here at our agency for six months. He was nice and eager, but we didn’t talk much.
“Is Rebecca available for a two-minute ask?” I didn’t do this.
I didn’t march around the office demanding agents’ time.
I did the opposite, did my best to help them have more time in their day.
Even though I worked for Rob, I often filled in when the other two agents were between assistants.
Answered phones, filed paperwork, scheduled appointments. I had earned some time.
“Let me check.” Cole picked up the phone on his desk and dialed. Into the phone he said, “You have a minute for Margot?” He listened for several beats, then hung up. “Go on in.”
“Thank you.”
Rebecca’s office was slightly bigger than Rob’s, but she didn’t have the corner windows like Rob did. She did have a wall of bookcases that Rob didn’t. I could always tell Rebecca got into this field for the love of books while Rob for the love of sales and contracts and numbers.
I once googled Rebecca. She was in her late thirties, had started her career in New York, and had moved out here when her husband got a promotion at his company. She also liked to say, I did it for the sun . “Hi, Margot. How can I help you?”
“Hi, Rebecca. Friday at eleven, I’m having a meeting with Rob about my future here at the agency. I was hoping you could sit in. Give your advice and opinions. If you have time.”
“Really?” she said, a smile lighting up her face. “That’s great news. He’s always said you were happy with your current responsibilities.”
“He…” At one point in the past Rob had told me he discussed my promotion with the other agents and the three of them thought I wasn’t ready. Either she had misremembered their conversation or he’d been lying. They seemed equally likely to me. “He has?”
“But things change, right? I’d love to sit in on a meeting.”
“Gr—great. I— Thank you,” I finally spat out.
“Will you have Cole put that in my calendar?”
“Of course.”
I did just that, and after Cole added me to the schedule I went back to my desk, reeling with this added information that once again proved Rob was holding me back, sabotaging me. You sabotaged yourself , Audrey would’ve said. I felt so stupid.
I swiveled my chair back and forth, trying to bring my anger levels down. I’d been a willing pawn in his game for too long. I was taking charge of the narrative. Friday. Everything would be better on Friday.
Speaking of anger… I pursed my lips and tapped my phone to life. I hadn’t talked to Audrey since brunch. I had thought she would reach out, smooth things over even more after calling me a glorified intern. She hadn’t. I typed a message to her: You hurt my feelings Saturday.
I erased the words that sounded juvenile and instead typed: I set a meeting with Rob for Friday about a promotion. That wasn’t at all what I needed to say to her, but maybe it was what she needed to hear—that I could take charge of my life.
That’s awesome! Remember to practice.
I grumbled a “Don’t tell me what to do” under my breath and reminded myself it was Rob I was actually angry at, not Audrey.
The office phone rang and I answered it with my normal greeting.
“Margot, how did it go? Any progress?” It was Kari.
“Rob is avoiding me,” I said, then clamped my mouth shut. I shouldn’t have said that.
She just laughed. “That makes two of us.”
“I’m sorry. I haven’t given up.”
“Can I send you some pages? Help you understand what I’m fighting for?”
“Yes! Please! I’d love to read some.”
“Great! I’ll send along my first fifty by the end of today.”
“Romantic thriller with a horror-style ending.”
Miles paused the television. Love Island.
That’s what he and Sloane were watching.
A reality show where they threw twenty hot people together in a house, made the women wear bikinis twenty-four seven, and hoped anyone fell in love by the end.
I checked up on all the past contestants on social media.
Very few of them had stayed together. Having to wear regular clothes must’ve broken the magic spell.
“Genre-bending?” Sloane asked.
I’d been reading in my room for the past hour and came out, head buzzing. “Kari Cross’s newest manuscript.”
“Kari Cross? The romance queen?” Sloane asked. “Pass.”
“You’d pass if you heard the concept?”
“I love her romance. Horror-style ending?” Sloane said, sitting forward on the couch. She always did that when she turned on her work brain, like she was ready to spring into action. “Isn’t that the exact opposite of a happily ever after?”
“What’s considered a horror-style ending?” Miles asked.
“Basically everyone dies,” I said. “Or at least are horribly maimed.”
Sloane shook her head. “Says the girl who doesn’t watch or read horror.
It’s true, a lot of times the main character dies or is hinted at dying.
Or sometimes, the monster we thought was defeated rears their ugly head at the last second, promising a return.
But what I mean by the opposite of romance is that the horror genre as a whole doesn’t try to leave the watcher happy.
Its goal is to disturb and its ending is often just as uncomfortable as the journey it took to get there. ”
I smirked and waved my tablet that I’d been reading from at her. “I should’ve known better than to try to tell a film agent what a horror ending entails.”
“Yes, you should’ve.” She pointed at my tablet. “And Rob should know better than to encourage Kari Cross to write anything but romance.”
I rolled my eyes. “Rob does know better.”
“Wait, you’re encouraging her?”
“It’s good,” I whined. “Like, really good. There’s this family, the parents on the brink of divorce, that moves into a town where everyone has pledged to live by a certain set of rules designed by AI to keep everyone safe.
If you break one of the rules, you’re kicked out.
No second chances. But everyone is happy because the AI designed it perfectly to maximize happiness, so everyone follows the rules willingly. ”
“Until?” Miles asks.
“I don’t know. She only sent me fifty pages so far. I need to ask her for more.”
“Horror ending, Margot,” Sloane said. “You’ll hate it. You’re all about the fun meeting and the romantic tension and the big bow tying everything together.”
I let out a grunt, then headed back toward my room while grumbling, “You don’t know what I’m all about.”
“Yes I do!” she called after me. “Love! And so are all of Kari Cross’s readers!”
“Don’t pigeonhole us!” I called back and shut my door.
I knew Sloane had a point. I knew Rob had a point. But I also knew why Kari couldn’t just walk away from this book.
I opened the laptop and signed in to my work email.
Kari,
I understand why you love this book so much.
I do too! Have you thought about a pen name?
It might solve the problem Rob has. Also, my only note so far is your setting is a bit weak.
Why California? The writing makes me feel like you haven’t been here before.
Can you set it somewhere you’re more familiar with? Also, I’m ready for more pages.—M
I shut my laptop and slid it off my lap and onto the bed.
My phone buzzed beside me. Kari was fast. But when I picked up my cell to check, it wasn’t an email notification waiting; it was a voice memo from Oliver in the dating app. That was new.
I hit the play button. “Hi. Thoughts on a funeral for a first date?”
The shock of what he said battled with the shock of hearing his voice for the first time in three years.
It was warm and comforting. And as if my body remembered exactly what he’d been doing the last time his low, raspy voice was in my ear, my lady parts clenched while the rest of my body was flooded with heat.
It was kind of annoying that just his voice could bring back such a visceral memory.
As I thought about how to respond to his question, I started analyzing my voice.
Was it going to do the same thing for him?
Did he remember what I sounded like when his hands were on me?
It was only fair that he got back some of the same feelings he was dishing out.
I rolled out of bed and flung myself down the hall. “Do I have a sexy voice?”
Both Sloane and Miles gave me matching perplexed faces.
“Hello,” I practiced. “My name is Margot.”
“Well, don’t use that voice,” Sloane said. “You sound like a sex line operator.”
“That’s good, right?”
Miles nodded. Sloane smacked his chest.
“What? I just answered her question,” he said.
“Who are you trying to impress?” she asked.