2. Trevor
CHAPTER TWO
TREVOR
“ S o, hypothetically, if I didn’t save my field report for the week, how bad would that be?” Caleb—one of several new associates on my sales team—leans over the metal chair in front of my desk, squinting at the glare from the window as he fidgets with his cell phone.
Frustration puffs through my lips, and I turn to close the blinds behind me to hide it. “Depending on how hypothetical we’re talking, pretty bad, Caleb. Did you check your drafts?” I try to keep the edge out of my voice, but there’s been something with him every week for the last month.
“Yeah…” He checks his buzzing phone.“But, uhh”—he taps the screen—“I forgot to”—he fucking laughs—“uh, forgot to use…” When he finally looks up at the exasperation on my face, he slides his phone in his pocket with a nervous grin.
“Sorry. I forgot to use the new form in SalesUp, so it didn’t autosave. ”
SalesUp is our Customer Relationship Management (CRM) software. Our bread and butter for data organization. We’ve made Fridays in-office days to keep our team up to date with all our contracts each week. But it’s hard to do that when Caleb refuses to use the damn tools he’s been trained on.
“Which form did you use?” He better not say the sample template again, or I’m sticking him on mail duty for the foreseeable future.
With a grimace, Caleb shifts on his feet, tossing his black hair out of his eyes. “…The blank sample template.”
Sighing, I hang my head. Of course he did .
Why use a pre-populated form that autosaves to the company server every thirty seconds?
What sense does that make? Nope, let’s manually enter every- damn -thing into a sample template.
“The whole reason we created the new forms was to make it easy for you to avoid mistakes like this.”
“There’s no way to recover it? Like, from the cloud or something?”
All I can do is blink at him. How he thinks I can pull an unsaved form out of thin air is some kind of logic I can’t get behind. But Big, Angry Black Man is a label I’ve worked hard to avoid in my HR file, so I stifle my annoyance. “…Did you save it to the cloud, Caleb?”
“Uh, no.”
“Then no.” I turn to my double monitor and open his field file, only to be smacked in the face with another problem.
“Where are the rest of your daily reports? I’m only seeing the clients from Monday and Tuesday.
” It’s Friday. If he tells me he didn’t make any progress after I met him on the job this week, I might lose it.
“So…how bad would it be if I forg?—”
“Never mind.” Leaning back in my leather office chair, I lace my hands behind my neck, squinting against the pounding in my head.
Our department secures contracts for EdTechU’s virtual whiteboard planning systems with universities and school districts in the Bay Area.
Building professional relationships by workshopping directly with administrators, teachers, and students through the life of the contract put EdTechU on the map.
Organization on our part is vital, which is why my comanager and I have streamlined everything for our associates, fine-tuning the basic corporate CRM to fit our needs.
EdTechU has always encouraged its employees to adjust the given tools to match the learning styles on our teams. With this new cohort being so green, we made the entire reporting process as easy as click, drop, submit.
At least , I thought we did . But clearly, we needed to add in some digital hand-holding on top of traveling across the area to provide them with on-site support during the week.
I tap over to my managerial view in SalesUp, find his Field Reports folder, and bring up the correct recording form on my second monitor.
“How many contacts did you make this week?”
“Uh, twelve…or twenty-one. Eleven?”
My hand settles over my mouth to hide the tension setting into my jaw while watching him try to recall a week’s worth of information.
The weight of his mistake seems to sink into lines on his forehead, and the more we talk, the more his shoulders slump.
I’m not trying to be hard on him, but he’s got to step it up before performance reviews. “Hey?—”
“It was…twelve. It was twelve.”
I chuckle at how absurd this all is, down to him using his fingers to count the contacts from memory.
“Okay, take a breath, and have a seat. We’ll figure it out.
” I turn my screens toward him as he wiggles the chair closer, sitting with a huff.
“This is what I documented from our time on Tuesday.” When I slide my keyboard to him, his eyebrows knit like he’s never worked a day in this office before.
“Caleb, bud, redo the form. I’ll watch, to make sure you don’t miss anything.
It won’t have all of your data, but for your sake, it’s better than nothing. ”
He nods and breathes out his relief. “Thanks, Trevor. Won’t let it happen again.”
Doubt it . Shaking my head, I check my watch. I can almost call it a day, and I’ll still have enough time to hit the gym before catching my flight to San Diego. Meeting my friends for an end-of-summer music festival is the reward I deserve after dealing with Caleb’s shit today.
The rapping on my office door pulls my attention from the rookie tapping away on my keyboard. “Hey, Trev.” Chase, my comanager and one of my best friends, peeks his head in my office. “They’re waiting for us in the conference room.”
Damn, I totally spaced the call with the LA office. Might have to skip the gym after all.
“Hey, Caleb, do me a favor.” I clap his shoulder on my way out, and he freezes. Chuckling, I head to the door, calling over my shoulder, “Save those when you’re done.”
“He used the sample again, didn’t he?” Chase asks, swiping fingers through his sandy blond hair. We fall in step down the hallway.
“Three times, on three different days. I think we gotta pull them for another training intensive.”
“Sounds good to me, man. The team hasn’t struggled like this since our first year here.”
As we round the corner, I catch a curvy, power-suit-wearing head of caramel curls walking through the conference room door.
She doesn’t see me, which is good, considering the instant sneer that takes over my face.
I’m tempted to dip out of this meeting entirely.
It’s not like I don’t need to leave soon anyway. Chase can fill me in on Monday.
“Was that?—?”
“Looked like it.” I resist the urge to turn around, steeling myself before walking into the room. Even after all these years, the sight of Marla Rhodes still sets my teeth on edge.
“Come on, Wills. Aren’t you even a little excited?
” Ashlie asks Willa. I slide into the booth next to Hunter, and we bump knuckles.
Willa wrinkles her nose as her head shakes, her deep amber skin glowing under the warm lighting.
She gathers her black and brown twists over her shoulder, and my mouth goes dry.
Beautiful doesn’t even begin to describe her.
From her full, pouty lips to the almond shape of her eyes, the softness of her thick curves, Willa’s inimitable.
“Hey, sorry I’m late.” I smile at the arguing sisters, who barely acknowledge me. Glancing back at Hunter, I whisper, “What’s that about?”
“Who the hell knows anymore?” The deep-set scowl on his face as he adjusts his glasses tells me he’s about to bolt. His sienna-toned skin is pulled taut over his knuckles as he cracks them and nods toward the bar. “You want a drink?”
“Nope, I’m good with water.”
“After listening to these two all day, I need several.” His elbow jabs me until I scoot off the bench. When he gets to the bar, he slumps into a stool, a clear sign he’s not coming back anytime soon.
“Hey, Trev! How was your flight?” Ashlie’s golden-brown coils bounce against her amber cheeks as she turns toward me.
“Not too bad. Hey, Willa.” I hold up a few fingers, and Willa gives a tight-lipped grin before burying her head in her phone. Damn…
“Don’t mind her. She’s mad at me for convincing her to come.”
“I’m not mad . I just know I won’t have a great time.”
“Come on now, Gem. You might be surprised,” I say.
“I doubt it, Dimples .” She rolls her eyes, and my heart skips a beat. “Not with the way Hunter and Ashlie maul each other every chance they get.”
“You could stick with me: handsome and hands-off.” I draw an x over my heart with a finger and flash her a smile.
Willa’s eyes narrow. “Hard pass.”
Ouch .
We stay like that, me smiling and her glaring at me for a few seconds, before her phone buzzes and steals her attention away.
Willa acts like I bother the hell out of her most of the time, but I’ve always been enamored.
She’s beauty and brains, all wrapped up in an introverted high-security package.
I’ve had this crush for years, which is a little embarrassing to admit at thirty-two.
Pining isn’t a habit of mine. I never hesitate to go for what I want in life, but she’s in a class all her own.
“Don’t waste your breath, Trev,” Ashlie says. “Once she makes up her mind, it’s a wrap.”
Willa side-eyes her, and I bite my cheek to stifle the smirk creeping across my face.
Willa’s the epitome of snark, and it does things to me.
I’ve asked Ashlie repeatedly if she’s seeing someone, and the answer has been no for a while.
According to Ashlie, the last guy fumbled Willa so badly, she’s sworn off relationships completely.
I don’t know a lot about it, but I know one thing: if the time ever came where I could have a chance with Willa, I wouldn’t let it slip through my fingers.