Chapter 2
PIPER
The biting winter wind burns my cheeks as I sprint down the sidewalk, weaving around people like it’s an Olympic sport.
I can’t think about Brody right now. Grabbing a coffee was supposed to take ten minutes, not twenty.
It was meant to clear my head before the very secret, no agenda, company-wide meeting.
Closing down? Buyout? Diversification? Stanley finally retiring?
The thought of him leaving is bittersweet. Stanley Parker is one of America’s finest, a good-hearted family man who took a chance on me straight out of college and has done his best to keep the business he inherited afloat during times no one could’ve predicted.
I slow my pace as the brick building comes into view, Parker & Overton Office Products—the first letter of each word far larger than all the rest—painted across the entire side in white over eighty years ago, now chipped and fading.
I shake my head. How did they not think that name through? The brown “POOP” building is famous throughout Brooklyn, and even though Mr. Overton left the business entirely to the Parkers in the fifties, the name never changed.
I take the stairs to the second floor. It’s quicker and more reliable than the elevator. The only incentive to step inside that creaking metal box is the hope that the fire department gets called when you get stuck, and that your rescuer is single, drop-dead gorgeous, and asks you on a date.
Of course, if that hunky firefighter were to break up with you after a few months, you’d better not risk getting stuck again unless you want him thinking you did it on purpose to win him back.
Which I would never do, and definitely didn’t happen. Okay?
Tentatively pulling open the conference room door, I step in. Luckily, the meeting hasn’t started yet. I scan the room, checking for any unfamiliar faces.
None. Is that a good or a bad thing?
A moment later, the door opens behind me, and Stanley Parker enters with his oldest son, also called Stanley.
I don’t think they mean to dress the same, but they’re almost always wearing beige slacks and white button-downs.
With their identical bald spots and rosy cheeks, they look like twins separated by thirty years.
The room falls silent as they make their way to the front.
This feels bad. Really bad.
Stanley Parker Sr. gives us a confident smile, but his fingers twist in front of him. He shoves his hands into his pockets and takes a breath.
“I know you’re all wondering what this is about, so I won’t drag it out. I’m retiring, and Stanley is stepping in to take my place.”
A collective breath is released, then the room breaks into spontaneous applause.
Thank God. My job’s safe.
Stanley raises his hands, quieting us. “But you know, folks, the market is changing, and times are tough.”
Uh-oh.
“I’m not gonna lie. It’s been challenging, but Stanley and I have been determined to keep the company going.”
I glance at my colleagues, a sea of tense postures and frowns.
“And to do that,” Stanley continues, “we’re partnering with another company.”
I swallow as alarm stabs at my stomach. A merger usually means half of us will lose our jobs.
“I don’t want anyone to worry. This is a good thing,” Stanley says, raising his voice above the murmurs rippling around the room.
“There will be generous voluntary redundancy packages on the table, and a six-month transition period during which we’ll work side by side to figure out the best fit for the new company. ”
Six months to fight for my job while sitting across from someone doing exactly the same thing. Ugh.
“What’s the other company?” someone asks.
Stanley smiles. “Turner’s Office Supply Solutions.”
I stop breathing. This can’t be happening. Not them.
Not him.
People murmur around me as the full horror of the situation sinks in.
Come January, I’ll be fighting for my job against Colin Turner, the owner’s son.
And my ex-boyfriend.
“Piper? Can I have a word?”
My head jerks up from the computer screen.
Stanley Parker Sr. is standing at the entrance to my cubicle, a perk of an unintentional promotion after the lead graphic designer retired two years ago and was never replaced. No hike in salary, but hey, have some screens around your desk!
He lifts his chin toward my computer. “Working on the new printer ad?”
“Yes.” I follow his gaze back to the stock photo of smartly dressed women standing around an office printer, laughing like it’s more hilarious than salad.
“Looking great!” he says enthusiastically. “High energy!”
I clench my teeth as I formulate my response. Sure, the printer is apparently so advanced it could cook a three-course meal and pick your kids up from daycare, if you could program it correctly, but this ad is generic and dull.
I may have the skills and creativity to match my job title, but by the time my work has passed through three layers of corporate approval, it’s been sanitized of anything original. So, I have to put my digital stylus aside and focus my energy on vetoing the use of Comic Sans.
I force a smile. “Thank you. And congratulations on your retirement.”
His face lights up. “It’s been a long time coming, but I’m excited now.”
He hesitates, then pulls a folded piece of paper from the pocket of his slacks. “I’m here because I want to talk to you about something very important … It’s not just me that’s retiring.”
“But you said there would only be voluntary redundancies!” I stammer before I can stop myself.
His eyes widen, and his hands fly up. “No, no, this is a good thing for you, Piper! The last thing I want for the company is to see you go.”
I slump in my seat, breathing heavily.
He looks stricken. “I’m so sorry I gave that impression. It’s Stanley who’s retiring.”
“Your son?”
“No, the other Stanley.”
My mind goes blank. How many Stanleys are there?
“Stanley the Stapler.”
Oh yes. The company mascot I drew a few years ago—a project that had literal legs when I was then tasked with creating a full-body costume—and given the dubious honor of wearing it at the company summer barbecue.
“I wanted to recognize your work for us, Piper,” Stanley continues, fiddling with the paper in his hands. He lowers his voice. “And I also thought it might strengthen your position after the merger.”
I nod and he beams.
“So, I wanted to be the first to tell you. We have a new company mascot.”
Unfolding the piece of paper, he holds it out to me. “You! Meet Piper the Pen!”
I stare at the picture. It looks like one of those inflatable tube men you see outside car dealerships, with a manic smile and flailing arms. But this one has bright yellow hair that sticks out like overcooked spaghetti after an electric shock, and eyelashes that reach halfway up its forehead.
“My granddaughter drew it,” Stanley says proudly.
No shit …
“You’ll have to tidy it up a bit. But don’t lose any of the energy. You know, she worked from a photo of you!”
Is this how people see me? No wonder I can’t find a boyfriend.
Stanley pushes the picture into my hands. “Congratulations!”
“Thanks,” I manage, my mouth dry.
“Put the printer job aside and work on this today,” he says, grinning. “It’ll be fun. Help take your mind off things.”
He leans in, like we’re part of some secret office clique. “Boss’s orders!”
Another rosy-cheeked smile, then he’s off, leaving me caught between a printer, a pen mascot, and the looming battle with my ex for my job.
“Are you sure they’ll only keep one graphic designer?” my best friend, Mia demands over the phone that evening. “The other company will bring in their own clients, so they’ll need the extra resources when you merge. And surely, He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named will take a management position?”
I haven’t moved from my couch since I got home from work. I need to pee, and I’m starving, but my body feels too numb to move.
“I don’t know. Maybe?” My voice is drained of any energy. “Colin isn’t interested in the admin side of things. He really loves drawing, just like me. Do you remember how we met at that conference and bonded over a game of Pictionary?”
“Yes. All very cute, but he still had the gall to leave you for—"
“No …” I groan. “I can’t believe I forgot his new girlfriend is the receptionist at his dad’s company.”
“That’s currently the least of your problems.”
“What do you mean?”
“Uh … Isn’t there another Colin-related issue you’re forgetting?”
A chill runs down my spine. Mia’s right. There’s something very important that’s been momentarily buried under the chaos of today. An elephant hiding in my one-bedroom that I can’t yet see.
“What you promised your mom?”
The elephant leaps out from behind the drapes and trumpets loudly.
Oh god.
I make a strangled sound as the full magnitude of the situation hits me.
A boyfriend.
I promised Mom I was bringing one home for Christmas.
“At least you never gave her Colin’s name.”
“I thought I’d have time to find a replacement,” I wheeze.
“You still can! I have faith!”
“What have I done?” I wail.
“Put other’s feelings before your own as per usual,” Mia says breezily. “And we all know what your mom’s like. The more her excitement grows, the harder it is to let her down.”
“But what am I going to dooooo?!”
“Okay. We need to prioritize here. Strategize. One problem at a time.”
Mia’s words rattle out like she’s calling the Kentucky Derby.
“First, we need to get you a boyfriend or lay the groundwork for crushing your mom’s hopes and dreams to dust—”
“Gee, thanks—”
“Then we need a plan to make you indispensable at work. A way to make you golden. Teflon. Un-freaking-touchable. Boyfriend first. Have you gotten stuck in the elevator yet to catfish that hot firefighter who ghosted you after three dates?”
“Didn’t work,” I mumble. “He went back to the truck and sent his colleague to help me.”
“Was he single?”
“Wife and four kids.”
“Dammit. And still no luck on the dating apps?”