Dating You / Hating You
Page 28
“Not a problem,” she says.
This pulls a grin out of Brad. “That’s what I like to hear, kiddo. Glad you’re taking our talk to heart. Team player.”
Evie’s reputation is as an agent who keeps her cool and can handle divas, but there’s something else lurking here. Brad is being so nice to her about it, like he’s helping her to the top of a mountain. He’s intending to either let her plant the flag or shove her off the sharp ledge on the other side.
“I know the scales seem a bit tipped right now,” he says to me. “But Evie knows this town and the people in it, and like I’ve said before, it’s one thing to land talent—it’s another to keep it.”
“Got it,” I say.
Yes, Evie has more contacts, experience with features, and several more years in the business than I do, but that doesn’t necessarily make her the better agent. Logically, I know that what Brad is saying makes sense. But there’s a part of me that can’t help but bristle.
We end the meeting and begin gathering up our things. My optimism has dissolved. Yes, we can work as a team, and yes, we have complementary skills. But do I want it to appear that I’m learning from her, and benefitting from her experience? I’m trying to talk myself down, but my pulse is racing and I can barely look in her direction.
I stall to let Brad and Evie leave the room first, but I’m not surprised to find Evie waiting in the hall when I make it outside. She stops me with a look, leaning back against the wall. She’s got a head start in this race and seems to know it.
“So, that was interesting.” She folds her arms over her chest.
“That’s one word for it.”
“About that strategizing,” she says, looking away. “Like I said, I have an appointment at five, but we could still get together afterward. It might be nice to download all of this.”
Fuck.
My heart is a hammer against my breastbone; my stomach is a pit of guilt. “You know, I forgot that I told Michael I’d watch Morgan tonight. She has swimming and I said I’d walk her down to the pool and stay until he’s free to pick her up.”
“Oh,” she says, and she knows I’m lying. She knows. “Another time.”
“Of course.”
Evie is a master of the calm mask, but I can see the tightness around her eyes. “You happy with your list?” And the tiny amused tilt to her voice tells me she wouldn’t be if she were me.
“Yeah,” I say. “Combined with what I’m bringing, I’ll be busy. You?”
“Thrilled,” she says, and grins. “Glad you jumped in on the Dan Printz thing after all. I don’t know how I’d find time for him and Adam, Sarah, Seamus . . .”
I pause, trying to hold back my first reaction: to call her out on her passive-aggressive shit. I fail. “So you were pissed about my email to Brad about Dan?”
“I wasn’t pissed,” she says evenly; she was totally pissed. “It’s just funny that only a few hours before, you were calling me to say we should keep our lines of communication open. Then you swoop in to grab a client Brad was thinking of giving to me.”
Is she serious with this?
Neither of us likes this situation. Each of us sees the other clearly—at least I think we do. I would still give my small finger to bang her until the sun comes up, but in this moment, when Evie is staring at me like I’m an opponent on the other side of the field, I decide I have to close one door to keep another open. I can’t do both things right now. And if I can’t get the girl, at least I can keep the job.
“I did keep our line of communication open,” I tell her. “I CC’d you on the email, didn’t I? It was all in plain sight. There was no ‘swooping’ about it.”
There’s a moment of awkward silence before she turns and walks down the hall. I continue to watch long after she’s rounded the corner and probably disappeared inside her office.
Justin steps up beside me. “How’d it go in there?” he asks, motioning to the conference room.
I clap my hand on his shoulder and give him my best smile. “Great,” I say. “In fact, it looks like we have a lot of research to do. Tell me, what do you know about YouTube?”
A plan begins to form in my head as he prattles on excitedly, and even though it makes me feel a little underhanded, it takes hold. I need this job. I need to figure out a way to make this work for me. Brad may think Evie’s the right one for the position, but that’s only because he hasn’t seen what I can do.
If I have to do a little homework and learn everything there is to learn—and more—about my client list and hers, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
There is no way I’m losing to Evil.
Chapter eleven
evie
Date: Fri, Oct 30 at 4:12 PM
From: Kylie Salisbury
To: Carter Aaron; Evelyn Abbey
Subject: Department Retreat
Hi Evie, Carter,
Brad has asked that the two of you be in charge of the annual department retreat up in Big Bear. It is back on the calendar for January 14–16. As Evie knows, I’ve organized it the last two years, so let me know when is a good time for the three of us to sit down and go over the format, activities, and any other relevant details.
Best,
Kylie
I’ve read the email about seven times and still am not sure I understand it. I walk into Daryl’s office and have her confirm I’ve read it correctly. I call Amelia in to have her verify that I am not, in fact, reading this wrong.
Wasn’t this canceled? Is it back on—but this time with senior agents in charge of the itinerary? Am I having a stroke?
Apparently, I’m not. On top of everything else on our plates, Carter and I have been given an assistant’s task: organize the departmental retreat.
Brad is a piece of work.
Since this isn’t coming from Brad himself, I have no way of knowing the subtext, but I’m sure there is one. It’s possible Kylie dropped the ball somewhere, but it’s more possible that this is Brad’s first twist in the P&D Hunger Games.
I lean against Daryl’s door, rubbing my face.
“This means I’m going to have to talk to him,” I say. Two weeks ago this wouldn’t have seemed like such a bad thing because (let’s be honest) I wanted to talk my way into his pants. But after Carter’s pouty blow-off—Let’s have dinner, oh wait, you got a better list than I did, no dinner for you!—I’m beginning to think the best strategy is just to never, ever interact with him at the office again.
Which . . . surprisingly, wouldn’t be that hard. With new clients and new coworkers on top of my normal schedule, I’ve been completely swamped. In the past week and a half, I’ve arrived at work by eight and stayed long after the office is empty, had nine lunch meetings, eleven meetings after work over drinks, and wall-to-wall clients during work hours. I’ve barely seen Carter. Except for when I watch him leave his office and find a way to enjoy the view from behind all the way down the hall . . .
I have a short break between a lunch meeting and an off-site and hope I can catch him for a few minutes. Because the odds of me wrestling him out of anger or lust are roughly equivalent, I decide to call in Daryl’s IOU for ditching me at Steph’s party and make her act as chaperone, possibly witness.
I am the best of friends.
We stop outside his office door, and I lift my fist, giving a single tentative knock.
This pulls a grin out of Brad. “That’s what I like to hear, kiddo. Glad you’re taking our talk to heart. Team player.”
Evie’s reputation is as an agent who keeps her cool and can handle divas, but there’s something else lurking here. Brad is being so nice to her about it, like he’s helping her to the top of a mountain. He’s intending to either let her plant the flag or shove her off the sharp ledge on the other side.
“I know the scales seem a bit tipped right now,” he says to me. “But Evie knows this town and the people in it, and like I’ve said before, it’s one thing to land talent—it’s another to keep it.”
“Got it,” I say.
Yes, Evie has more contacts, experience with features, and several more years in the business than I do, but that doesn’t necessarily make her the better agent. Logically, I know that what Brad is saying makes sense. But there’s a part of me that can’t help but bristle.
We end the meeting and begin gathering up our things. My optimism has dissolved. Yes, we can work as a team, and yes, we have complementary skills. But do I want it to appear that I’m learning from her, and benefitting from her experience? I’m trying to talk myself down, but my pulse is racing and I can barely look in her direction.
I stall to let Brad and Evie leave the room first, but I’m not surprised to find Evie waiting in the hall when I make it outside. She stops me with a look, leaning back against the wall. She’s got a head start in this race and seems to know it.
“So, that was interesting.” She folds her arms over her chest.
“That’s one word for it.”
“About that strategizing,” she says, looking away. “Like I said, I have an appointment at five, but we could still get together afterward. It might be nice to download all of this.”
Fuck.
My heart is a hammer against my breastbone; my stomach is a pit of guilt. “You know, I forgot that I told Michael I’d watch Morgan tonight. She has swimming and I said I’d walk her down to the pool and stay until he’s free to pick her up.”
“Oh,” she says, and she knows I’m lying. She knows. “Another time.”
“Of course.”
Evie is a master of the calm mask, but I can see the tightness around her eyes. “You happy with your list?” And the tiny amused tilt to her voice tells me she wouldn’t be if she were me.
“Yeah,” I say. “Combined with what I’m bringing, I’ll be busy. You?”
“Thrilled,” she says, and grins. “Glad you jumped in on the Dan Printz thing after all. I don’t know how I’d find time for him and Adam, Sarah, Seamus . . .”
I pause, trying to hold back my first reaction: to call her out on her passive-aggressive shit. I fail. “So you were pissed about my email to Brad about Dan?”
“I wasn’t pissed,” she says evenly; she was totally pissed. “It’s just funny that only a few hours before, you were calling me to say we should keep our lines of communication open. Then you swoop in to grab a client Brad was thinking of giving to me.”
Is she serious with this?
Neither of us likes this situation. Each of us sees the other clearly—at least I think we do. I would still give my small finger to bang her until the sun comes up, but in this moment, when Evie is staring at me like I’m an opponent on the other side of the field, I decide I have to close one door to keep another open. I can’t do both things right now. And if I can’t get the girl, at least I can keep the job.
“I did keep our line of communication open,” I tell her. “I CC’d you on the email, didn’t I? It was all in plain sight. There was no ‘swooping’ about it.”
There’s a moment of awkward silence before she turns and walks down the hall. I continue to watch long after she’s rounded the corner and probably disappeared inside her office.
Justin steps up beside me. “How’d it go in there?” he asks, motioning to the conference room.
I clap my hand on his shoulder and give him my best smile. “Great,” I say. “In fact, it looks like we have a lot of research to do. Tell me, what do you know about YouTube?”
A plan begins to form in my head as he prattles on excitedly, and even though it makes me feel a little underhanded, it takes hold. I need this job. I need to figure out a way to make this work for me. Brad may think Evie’s the right one for the position, but that’s only because he hasn’t seen what I can do.
If I have to do a little homework and learn everything there is to learn—and more—about my client list and hers, that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
There is no way I’m losing to Evil.
Chapter eleven
evie
Date: Fri, Oct 30 at 4:12 PM
From: Kylie Salisbury
To: Carter Aaron; Evelyn Abbey
Subject: Department Retreat
Hi Evie, Carter,
Brad has asked that the two of you be in charge of the annual department retreat up in Big Bear. It is back on the calendar for January 14–16. As Evie knows, I’ve organized it the last two years, so let me know when is a good time for the three of us to sit down and go over the format, activities, and any other relevant details.
Best,
Kylie
I’ve read the email about seven times and still am not sure I understand it. I walk into Daryl’s office and have her confirm I’ve read it correctly. I call Amelia in to have her verify that I am not, in fact, reading this wrong.
Wasn’t this canceled? Is it back on—but this time with senior agents in charge of the itinerary? Am I having a stroke?
Apparently, I’m not. On top of everything else on our plates, Carter and I have been given an assistant’s task: organize the departmental retreat.
Brad is a piece of work.
Since this isn’t coming from Brad himself, I have no way of knowing the subtext, but I’m sure there is one. It’s possible Kylie dropped the ball somewhere, but it’s more possible that this is Brad’s first twist in the P&D Hunger Games.
I lean against Daryl’s door, rubbing my face.
“This means I’m going to have to talk to him,” I say. Two weeks ago this wouldn’t have seemed like such a bad thing because (let’s be honest) I wanted to talk my way into his pants. But after Carter’s pouty blow-off—Let’s have dinner, oh wait, you got a better list than I did, no dinner for you!—I’m beginning to think the best strategy is just to never, ever interact with him at the office again.
Which . . . surprisingly, wouldn’t be that hard. With new clients and new coworkers on top of my normal schedule, I’ve been completely swamped. In the past week and a half, I’ve arrived at work by eight and stayed long after the office is empty, had nine lunch meetings, eleven meetings after work over drinks, and wall-to-wall clients during work hours. I’ve barely seen Carter. Except for when I watch him leave his office and find a way to enjoy the view from behind all the way down the hall . . .
I have a short break between a lunch meeting and an off-site and hope I can catch him for a few minutes. Because the odds of me wrestling him out of anger or lust are roughly equivalent, I decide to call in Daryl’s IOU for ditching me at Steph’s party and make her act as chaperone, possibly witness.
I am the best of friends.
We stop outside his office door, and I lift my fist, giving a single tentative knock.
