Trying to be Corrine Blunt is not easy. When the head of an entire department takes a sick day, it’s like throwing a grenade into a chicken coop. Without the authority to make any decisions, the most I can do is rearrange schedules and collect ruffled feathers.
By the time I raise my head from ongoing calendar rearrangement, the only light in the hallway is the orange glow from the sun low in the sky. The only sound is the high whine of a vacuum somewhere else on the floor. I lean back in my chair and loosen my tie. Slowly I roll my shoulders down from where they’ve been hunched around my ears for hours.
My stomach makes the kind of gurgling sound that would be embarrassing in front of another person. I pat my belly and close my eyes. “Sorry, buddy.”
The shrill sound of my sister’s ringtone pierces the peaceful quiet.
When I answer, she doesn’t say hello. Just, “Come out tonight. We’re trying a bunch of the new recipes before the launch and the head bartender is making all the cocktails for us to sample.”
My stomach gurgles again. Amy’s chef is a genius. “Okay. Just let me finish up here.”
Amy makes a happy, squeal-y sound. “I feel like I haven’t seen you in so long between opening the restaurant and your hours.”
“Yeah.” I sigh as another email comes in. “Sorry about that. I just have one more email and then I’m on my way.”
“Great. I’ll save you a seat.”
I put my phone facedown on the desk and open the email from Arjan, a designer in the graphics department. He stayed late, too. Anticipating an email from Ms. Blunt with instructions for her presentation. She has a ton of print and digital mock-ups, an app she’s pitching. But he hasn’t received the designs yet.
Crap.
I open the shared file for Ms. Blunt’s presentation. The last changes were saved yesterday.
Double crap.
Sliding my phone off my desk, I send her a text about the presentation. The sun sinks lower in the window, the light gets dimmer as I wait for her response. I send her one more, a gentle prompt so it won’t sound like I’m checking up on her.
Arjan was wondering if you have anything for him to design tonight?
The power button on my computer screen calls to me, like the Ring calls to Frodo. It tells me to shut down and go eat good food and drink good cocktails at Amy’s new restaurant.
“She didn’t want your help anyway,” I mutter.
I open the presentation again, scrolling through the pages. There’s still a few hours of work to be done.
The phone rings and I jump in my chair.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Arjan. Do you need me to stay?”
“Uhhh...” I scratch my head. In that elevator a couple weeks ago, I didn’t do the right thing. I didn’t go to HR or tell Richard what Mark said. I didn’t have her back.
Amy is going to be so pissed.
“Yeah,” I say. “I need you to stay.”