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“Now, if you have questions about the Epic Elevate Digital Home Gym package, fire away. I bet I could answer any question you aim my way and arrange to have an order shipped out to you, pronto.”
She gives me a half smile. “Thanks.”
“Maybe you should talk to him. You said you can’t, but beneath all the demands and high energy, he’s human like the rest of us, and he does have a heart.”
“He does? Are you sure? I’ve never seen evidence of that.” She takes a jagged breath, and more tears snake out. “He never says thank you, Gwen. He never asks me how I’m doing. He doesn’t care about anyone but himself. He’s an ego-maniac…”
She sniffs and wipes tears from her eyes. “I mean, I have my own things I want to do, and tending to all his needs day after day after day… it’s, like, degrading, in a way. Demoralizing. I’m losing myself.”
“Walk back to my desk with me.” I gesture toward the door. “Lizzy’s over there, and I bet she’ll have some great thoughts to share about your situation.”
Mandy fights back more tears and nods. “Thanks. This is—this is helping.”
The donut box has over a dozen glazed, powdered, twisted, and hole-adorned treats left on offer. I load a napkin with a chocolate-glazed for me, a raspberry-filled for Lizzy, and another cruller for Mandy.
Then, I usher the still-tearful assistant toward my desk. But, when we reach it, she doesn’t sit down for the woman-to-woman, comforting, Monday-morning gabfest I expect.
Instead of greeting Lizzy, she lifts her chin. “I think Gwen is right,” she announces. She swipes a few tears from her eyes with the edge of her finger and sniffs.
“Morning, Mandy,” Lizzy replies. “Gwen is right about many things, usually in an unconventional way. What’s she onto this time?”
I hand Mandy a tissue.
She blots her eyes with it, then tosses the damp Kleenex into the little wastebasket by my desk. “It’s time for me to move on.”
Wait… Did I say that?
I didn’t.
I said she should talk to Brock, not move on.
I open my mouth, a gentle redirect in mind, but Mandy speaks before I can. “I quit.” Then, she lobs the cell phone into the trash can by my desk. She piles the tablet on top of it, and it lands with a clatter.
When I peer down at the devices in the wastebasket, a feeling of dread stirs in my belly. These shiny new electronics look very out of place here by my desk.
That darn phone will ring again.
I’ve always had a strong sense of intuition, and right now, an inner part of me is piping up with words of warning: This means trouble.
This cell phone in my trash is not good.
Not good at all. Same goes for the tablet.
What will happen when Brock learns about this? He’ll be upset, for sure. How upset, I don’t know.
I only know, deep in my bones, that this Monday morning is trending toward disastrous.
Chapter 2
Gwen
A bright smile pushes Mandy’s tear-streaked cheeks upward. “Wow—that feels amazing, actually.” She giggles. “I quit!”
A few heads around the shipping department turn.
The cell phone that she just chucked into the wastebasket starts to ring.
“Brock Benson can answer his own freaking phone,” Mandy proclaims, a new lightness in her tone. “I am done. Done taking messages from his annoying sister, whom he never calls back, by the way. Done documenting receipts for the ridiculously overpriced sneakers he buys and wears one time before tossing them to the back of his closet. Done setting up actual appointments with his parents—not visits, mind you, he calls them appointments.”
