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jenna
The Grinch is Coming Home
“Come in.”
The door to my office opens, and Rick Harrison, my boss, steps in with a look I can’t quite decipher on his face. Christmas music filters in behind him, and I internally cringe. I’m not a fan of this time of year, especially cheesy Christmas music. No, thank you. I plan to spend the entire month of December right here at this desk getting ahead on things and skipping right over the holidays. The more I can avoid all the festivities, the better.
I rub my temples, tired from the glare of the monitors on my desk. “What’s up, Rick?”
His features are pinched with concern. Rick’s been working in television longer than I’ve been alive. Nothing rattles him. He’s the most easy-going boss ever. Overrun on budgets? No problem. Actors with massive egos? We’ll work through it. Any problem we’ve had, we’ve pushed through and solved without any problems. That’s one of the reasons I love working with him so much. Seeing him so worried gives me an even bigger headache, and I’ve got to get in front of it.
I don’t like seeing him like this. I would do anything for Rick, and he’s practically like a dad to me. He’s like Steve Martin in Father of the Bride. He’s traditional, takes care of his employees, and treats everyone like family. This man is revered in this industry. If you are lucky enough to work with him, you know that you’ve got a great opportunity. You don’t mess that up.
“If this is about the Montana show, I’ve already fixed the problem. I emailed you about it this afternoon,” I hedge nervously as I glance out at the glittering lights in Los Angeles. The sun has long set, and everyone else in the office went home hours ago. This time of night is when I do my best work when no one is around, and I can really lock in. I’ve completely lost track of time and lost myself in my work again.
“That’s not what this is about, Jenna,” he says, looking even more perplexed as he takes in my monitors with a dozen tabs open. My planner with my massive to-do list is open on my desk, and I’ve been powering through it. There are empty take-out containers on my side table and five empty coffee cups from the past twenty-four hours. It’s a mess, but I plan to clean it up as soon as I’m done for the day.
I finally sit back and wait for him to tell me the bad news. It has to be bad news. I can feel it. He’s never come into my office like this. I hope everything is okay with him and his family. That’s the only thing I can think of that could be wrong.
Rick folds his arms and looks at me. “You’re done.”
I blink in surprise and stammer. “What?”
“You’re done, J,” he says, frowning in disappointment. “You can’t keep going like this. This isn’t living!”
An awkward laugh escapes me, with more emotion attached than I would have liked. “This is...a weird way to fire me, Rick. After all I’ve done for you for the past five years. What the hell?”
“I’m not firing you,” he says softly, his kind blue eyes turning sad.
I huff out a relieved laugh. “Good, because I have approximately sixteen projects keeping this company afloat.”
Rick sits in the chair across from my desk and leans back with a sigh, one hand over his mouth, shaking his head. “That’s part of the problem. No one is disputing that you do the most around here.”
“Rick—”
“No. You’re going to listen,” he says firmly.
I shut my mouth. Because Rick is someone I respect so much. Anything he has to say or his opinions matter to me.
A lump forms in my throat, and my eyes start to sting with hot tears. Rick doesn’t hand out compliments like that often, so they mean something. He hired me after I interned for him right out of college, and he’s been a mentor to me ever since. Somewhere along the way, he became family to me. I’ve attended his kids’ weddings, holiday dinners at his house, and summer BBQs. There’s no way I’d ever disappoint this man. He means the world to me.
“I’m worried about you,” he says sternly. “If you don’t take time off, you’re going to run yourself straight into the ground.”
“I’m fine, Rick,” I wave him off. “I’m just...”
“You fell asleep at your desk last night. I don’t even think you went home,” he says, cutting me off with exasperation.
He’s actually not wrong. I went to the gym down the street, did a Pilates class, showered, and came back to work right after. I have barely been home in weeks. Just long enough to sometimes catch a few hours of sleep, shower, and switch out laundry.
“Rick…I’m fine,” I repeat, trying to convince him and, if I’m being honest, myself. I know he’s right, but I can’t admit that. If I admit that, I’d have to admit to far bigger problems in my life, and I’m not ready to do that.
Rick doesn’t look convinced. “You’ve worked eighteen-hour days daily for the past three months.”
“We’re in production!” I say with exasperation. “There’s work to be done.”
Rick stares at me and blinks. And I stare back because I’ve never seen him like this. It’s freaking me out. Normally, he gives me free rein to work as much as I want. But this time, he’s not budging. And I don’t like it.
