The Wrong Right Man(34)
“Yeah.” I shake my head like I just had a moment of ditsy forgetfulness. “I just got caught up in what Kathy was saying.” I pick up my box and take out the watch, the blinking light taunting me as I wrap it around my wrist. Once I have it secure, I pull the sleeve of my blouse down over it. I might be forced to wear it all the time, but that doesn’t mean I have to take the time to charge it. If it dies, it dies; there is nothing he can do about that.
“You might have noticed there is no charging cable in your box,” Kathy says, and I look at her, feeling my heart plummet. “This watch is charged by the sun, unlike some of our competitors’, which allows you to never have to worry about plugging it in.”
“Great,” I groan, and everyone looks at me. “Sorry.” I hold up my wrist. “I’m just so relieved I don’t need to charge this beauty.”
Kathy clears her throat, and everyone turns to focus on her once more. “I look forward to hearing from each of you, and as you know, my door is always open. Now.” She motions toward the door. “Let’s get back to work and sell, sell, sell.”
I stand with everyone else, the weight on my wrist feeling heavier than ever before. I swear I’m going to kill Braxton for once again using his position to get his way.
“Are you okay?” Samantha asks as we wait for the elevator.
“Yeah, totally. Are you?” I ask automatically, glancing over when she laughs.
“You’re a horrible liar. Has anyone ever told you that?” She grasps my wrist to pull my hand away from my mouth. Damn, I didn’t even notice I was biting my nails. “My friend Mary back home always bites her nails when something is wrong or when she’s worried. What’s wrong?”
Knowing I should give her something, I sigh then lower my voice as we step out of the elevator and walk across the office toward our desks. “I’m a little nervous about what Kathy is going to say about the talk points I sent her this morning. She hasn’t exactly been very open to anything I’ve given her so far.”
“Every time I’ve seen you on air so far, you’ve been amazing, and like Mat said, Kathy doesn’t have the final say, so I don’t think you should worry too much about her opinion. Just do your best; that’s all any of us can really do.”
“You’re right, thanks.”
“Anytime. Also, I’m here if you ever need someone to bounce ideas off of. I know for me it helps my process.”
“I’d really like that. We should exchange numbers and get together sometime,” I say then shake my head. “Sorry. I don’t mean to sound so desperate, but I could use a friend here.”
“Well, you’re in luck. I’m in the market for a friend.” She laughs then asks, “Do you want to get lunch this afternoon? I was thinking of trying out that new chowder place a couple blocks over. I read a review that said they have the best sourdough bread bowls in the US. Something I doubt, since I grew up in San Francisco. Still, I want to try them out.”
“I’m not sure what a sourdough bread bowl is, but I’d love to join you.”
“If this place is any good, your mind is going to be blown.” She says then looks at her new watch. “Wow, so cool. It just reminded me that I’m due on air in an hour.” Her eyes widen. “Shit, I have to get to makeup.” She starts to take off then turns back toward me, walking backward. “I should be done around one, but I’ll let you know if I get done before then.”
“Sounds good. And good luck.”
“Thanks.” She turns and calls over her shoulder, heading for hair and makeup on the opposite side of the room from me.
I go back to my desk and check over the list of the reports that were emailed to me this morning. After going through each one, I notice my numbers are right on point with some of the other people who have been on air here for years but vary depending on the state. I check to see if Kathy has emailed me back, and when I see she has, I open the e-mail and my heart sinks. Once more, she’s dismissed the ideas I had on ways to promote the products on my schedule.
Not ready to give up, I go through some of the past projects she’s headed, finding they have performed well but not great by any standards. I would understand her being set on using her formula if it was working, but it hasn’t been. By the time I’m done going over all the information I’ve found, my brain is tired and I’m confused and convinced that maybe it’s me she doesn’t like.
“I’m back,” Samantha says, stopping at the edge of my desk, and I look up at her. “I’m just going to grab my purse. Want to meet me at the elevator?”
“Yes, I’ll be right there.” I start to shut down my computer, thinking maybe food will make me feel better, but stop when an e-mail from Sawyer Markel, my old social worker, pops up. My bad mood instantly lifts when I see she sent me her cell number along with a brief message asking how I have been and letting me know it will be easier if I call her. After I program her number into my phone, I meet Samantha, and I head out to lunch with my hopefully new friend.
“So what do you think?” Samantha asks as we finish up lunch.
“I’m not sure I’m a good judge. I was starving, so I think I could have eaten my own hand,” I admit, and she smiles, looking at my empty plate before pulling off one more piece of her sourdough bowl and popping it in her mouth. “Did you enjoy it?”