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At least, that’s what I suspected. Corey never explained his departure to me. Why would he? I was just his best friend’s little sister who stared at him with hearts in my eyes for most of our lives.
Except you two were friends…
Or were we?
If we were really friends, how could he leave without saying goodbye, let alone not speak to me for years?
And why couldn’t I get over my reservations and try to reach out to him myself?
No, we were never “just friends”.
If I’m being honest, there was always an underlying tension between us, and that cord snapped after the kiss after prom.
But I need to get over this, especially if what Patti says is true. Charles Winston wants results, and he wants them soon. I can’t rely on communicating with Avery every single time I need Corey to do something on social media. I’d proposed gettingdirect access to his accounts so I could post things myself, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Corey didn’t say it outright, but I think he likes having the final say on what gets shared on his accounts.
“I have no doubt you’ll be able to get Corey the results we’re looking for,” Patti tells me. She stands and takes a step back towards the door. “Just let me know if you need any help. I can reassign an intern to work with you. Capture photos. Generate caption options. Things like that."
I’ve never worked with someone in that capacity, but it isn’t a terrible idea. “How about Claudia?” The twenty-two-year-old graduated from my alma mater last spring. Our internships don’t pay super well, but Claudia has proven herself savvy with media marketing and an official job position is sure to come her way when her one-year contract ends.
Patti halts and raises her brows. “Oh, dear. Did you not hear? Claudia doesn’t work here anymore.”
“What?”
“It turns out she was sleeping with a player.”
I blink. “So?”
“So?” Patti scoffs. “She violated the no fraternization policy,” Patti says the words like they should be obvious, but I had no idea there was such a policy, let alone that Claudia had violated it.
I say as much. “Why wouldn’t Claudia be allowed to date a player?”
“Conflict of interest,” my boss answers. “The Lonestars are an old-school organization with old-school values. Not to mention, no one wants a player’s performance to be impacted by someone within the organization. Just imagine if they got into a fight before a game and he saw her in the stands. It could easily throw him off and cause the team to lose.”
I frown. “But that can happen with anyone the players are seeing, not just a team employee.”
“You’re right, but Charles Wilson can’t control other women, can he?”
And there it is.
The bagel I ate this morning churns in my stomach.
“So Claudia was fired?” I don’t bother to ask about the player. The chances of a contracted baseball player losing his roster spot because he was seeing a pretty intern are slim to none. The world is a far better place for women in the workforce than during my grandmother’s time, but inequality still exists.
“No, she resigned. Thank God. That could have been an HR nightmare.”
I bite my lip to refrain from saying itshouldbe a nightmare.
It’s not that I don’t understand the purpose of the policy. I do. But not for someone like Claudia. Her interaction with the team on a professional level is non-existent. She doesn’t work with them in any capacity. She runs errands for the office staff and assists anyone who needs help, like me with organizing my social media campaigns.
No fraternization policies have their place in the workforce. But this blanket rule levied on someone as harmless as Claudia irritates me.
“I’ve got to go make a phone call. I’ll see you at the staff meeting after lunch.” Patti walks out of my office without a backward glance but calls over her shoulder, “And you should toss out those roses. They’re going to attract insects.” She disappears down the hall.
I sit in my chair, unmoving, still irritated with the news about Claudia. My eyes trail to the dying bouquet of roses sitting on the corner of my desk.
Patti is right. I should throw them out. They were delivered the Monday after my birthday, and three weeks is a good life for pre-cut flowers, but I hold onto them for sentimental reasons.
Ever since my nineteenth birthday, I have received a bouquet of gorgeous roses as a gift. Sometimes, they’re delivered on my actual birthday while other times they are delivered a few days later.
