Wishful Thinking

by Evangeline Anderson

  Phil felt her heart sink a little. In the back of her mind, she’d been thinking that no matter how horrible the HR review turned out to be, at least she still had Josh’s company to look forward to afterwards. But she didn’t want him to feel worse when he was already so stressed out.

  “Well, I probably won’t need a suit anyway.” She shrugged. “I mean, I’m pretty sure I’ll be fired, and they’ll rescind my invite to beach day.”

  “Shit.” Josh ran both hands through his hair this time which made him look almost wild. “I’m so sorry, Phil. I completely forgot. Look, no matter what happens just remember you have at least one person on your side. If they kick you out, I’ll walk too.”

  “Hey, no, you don’t have to do that.” She was a little taken aback at his offer, even more so because she knew Josh didn’t go back on his word. If he said he’d quit his job if BB&D fired her, he meant it.

  “Hell.” Josh gave a shaky laugh and yanked at his tie. “If I don’t get the damn computer system working again, it’ll be a moot point because they’ll hand me my walking papers and we can leave together.”

  “Oh, Josh, I’m so sorry.” Phil wanted to pull him into her arms and just hold him close, wanted to comfort him the way he had comforted her the day before in his car. But she was well aware that they were in a public hallway and anything they did would be grist for the office rumor mill. So instead she reached out and squeezed his arm, trying to put all her sympathy and compassion into the small gesture.

  He smiled. “It’s all right, Swann. Anyway, I thought I was the one who was supposed to be comforting you.”

  Phil smiled back, relieved to see the easing of tension around his brown eyes. “Comfort is a two way street, you know. You certainly gave me enough of it yesterday. I owe you some.”

  “You don’t owe me anything,” Josh said, suddenly serious. He took a step closer to her. “The pleasure of comforting you, of holding you in my arms, was all mine.”

  “Wow, Josh. That’s… beautiful. Thank you.” Phil was a little taken aback by his intense statement until she remembered her reversed wish. Well, if this is the worst thing he has to say to me, it’s no sweat, she thought.

  Judging by the look on his face, Josh was surprised at his words, as well. “Okay, enough mooshy stuff.” He jammed his hands deep in his pockets and leaned one shoulder against the pale pink wall. “You have to go to your HR review and I have to go back and slay the flaming server dragon or die trying. So here goes—quick pep talk. You first.”

  “Um…” Phil thought fast. This was a game they sometimes played on the phone when one of them was having a crappy day but was too busy to stop for a full fledged “bitch session” as Josh called it. “You can handle this, Bowman,” she said, looking him in the eye like a basketball coach with a star player during the Final Four. “You’re the smartest guy I know and if anyone can find out what’s going on with the server it’s you. You’re going to go back there and look at things from a fresh angle and find out what’s wrong. Then you’re going to…to…to fix the shit out of it and get done in time to come bathing suit shopping with me anyway. And…and see me buy the first bikini I’ve had since I was twelve.” She put her hands on her hips and smiled. “There—how’s that?”

  Josh laughed—the same deep sound she’d grown to love because it warmed her from the inside out. “Fix the shit out of it?” His melted chocolate eyes twinkled. “Damn, Swann! And are you telling me I get to see you in a teeny-weeny yellow polka-dot bikini if I succeed in my quest?”

  “Well…” Phil felt herself blushing. “I was trying to motivate you. But when you put it that way it doesn’t sound very motivating, I guess.”

  “Oh, no, it’s motivating.” Josh was serious again. “I’ve known you for years but all I ever get to see you in is your office clothes. Well, except for last year’s beach day, but you wore shorts and a T-shirt to that. Hardly Playboy material. Not that I haven’t imagined you in much more revealing outfits, of course.” He seemed to catch himself and looked confused. “Uh…” He dug his hands deeper into his pockets. “God, Phil, I’m sorry. That was…well, I don’t know where that came from.”

  “I do. I mean, um… I just…” Phil shrugged but inside she couldn’t help feeling a little tingle. So Josh actually imagined her in different outfits? In sexy outfits? She knew it was wrong to feel secretly pleased about what he had revealed under the power of her fairy godmother’s screwed up magic, but she couldn’t help it. After all, it had been so long since Christian showed any interest in her that way. It felt good to be noticed—good to be wanted.

  “Phil, really, I…”

  She realized that Josh was still looking abashed, no doubt thinking that he had offended her.

  “Look, don’t worry about it.” Phil glanced at her watch and saw that it was getting late. “I need to get to my desk. So come on—pep talk. Give it to me quick.”

  “Okay, okay.” Josh cleared his throat and squared his shoulders. “You’re sweet and wonderful and way too smart to be working here,” he said. “And you’ve got more class in your little finger that everybody else in the rest of this whole damn place put together. You’re gonna get out of here and go to law school so no matter what happens in there, I want you to remember that. I also want you to remember that…that, uh…” His eyes suddenly darkened and Phil caught a glimpse of that certain something she’d seen in them the day before when they had let their barriers slip by mutual agreement. “Remember that you’re beautiful,” Josh went on softly. “You’re so beautiful it hurts me to look at you. But I couldn’t stop looking even if it meant I’d go blind. Remember that, Phil.”

  “Oh…uh…” She knew it was just her wish making him talk like that but still, it wasn’t the way their pep talks usually went. Josh usually ended by reminding her not to let the man get her down and giving her a slap on the back. There was no denying, though, that it gave her a thrill to hear that he thought she was beautiful. With her weird hair, too red lips, and changeable eyes (even though people without fae or fairy blood didn’t notice them) Phil had always felt kind of like an ugly duckling. It was nice to hear that someone considered her a swan.

  “I’m sorry.” Josh took his hands out of his pockets to rub his temples. “I didn’t mean…I mean I did, but.” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Look, just remember you’re in the right and Dickhead Junior is in the wrong. And if he lays a hand on you again, I’ll punch his lights out. Okay?”

  “Wow—thanks.” Phil grinned at him. “That’s the best offer I’ve had all day.” She glanced at her watch again. “Okay, now I really need to get going.”

  “Right—pep talk over.” Josh still looked confused, but now he was distracted again too, no doubt thinking about the problems ahead of him.

  “See you later. And good luck.” Phil turned for her cubicle.

  “Right. Go get ‘em, tiger. And call me when it’s over.” He sketched her a quick salute and was gone around the corner back to the tech department. Phil sighed and headed for her cubicle, as well. It was time to face the music and she had a feeling she wasn’t going to like what she had to hear.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  “Ms. Swann? The head of HR will see you now.” Mrs. Bloom, Herbert Dickson’s ancient secretary seemed to impart the words with a tolling, bell-like doom. Or maybe that was just Phil’s nerves acting up. It was almost noon and she’d been waiting for the better part of an hour in the HR director’s outer office, wondering when the review was going to start. She felt like a kid called to the principal’s office and made to wait for a paddling.

  The only bright spot in her day was that she hadn’t had to hear any more wild outbursts. She’d spent most of the early morning working quietly at her desk while her coworkers avoided her like the plague. As long as they didn’t get too close and Phil didn’t interact with them, the wish didn’t make them blurt out their thoughts and feelings. It was a relief not to have any confrontations after two days straight of nothin
g else. So Phil stayed at her cubicle until she was called to HR.

  Now she stood on shaky legs, ready to answer to the charges against her, trying to remind herself that she was no longer a doormat or a dishrag. She was an intelligent woman who spoke up for herself and didn’t take crap from anybody. Someday she was going to be a civil rights attorney and that was how she was going to conduct herself now. As though this was a trial and she was acting in her own defense. Right. Phil took a deep breath. Mostly she just wished like hell this whole experience was over.

  “Good morning, Ms. Swann. Please, be seated.” Herbert Dickson’s office was almost as posh as her boss’s even though he was the only Dickson in the family who wasn’t an attorney. He was a tall, cadaverously thin man who looked like a funeral director. In fact, he was almost the exact physical opposite of his cousin and Phil’s boss, Atwood Dickson, who was seated to his left at the far end of a semicircle of chairs that were arranged around the imposing mahogany desk. Phil wondered why there were so many chairs in the office. Had a meeting just broken up? Trying not to look at her boss, who was giving her a leering grin, she walked quickly to the far side of the semicircle and sat on the end chair, as far from him as possible.

  Keeping her eyes on the head of HR, she folded her hands on her lap to stop their trembling. “Mister Dickson,” she said, addressing Herbert, not Atwood. “Before we start this review, I’d like to say that I know I made some…well, some very imprudent statements yesterday. But I’d like it to go on record as saying that I feel many of them were justified and I was severely provoked.”

  “Severely provoked? What the hell—” Atwood began angrily.

  “Atwood, pleased.” Herbert raised a hand to keep his cousin quiet. “Ms. Swann,” he said, giving her a cold look. “We are not nearly ready to begin yet. When your statement is called for I will let you know. Now.” He cleared his throat with a high, whiny cough as Atwood gave her an evil look. “It was brought to my attention yesterday that there were several staff complaints against you, Ms. Swann, not only from your superior, Mister Atwood Dickson, but from several coworkers, as well.”

  “I can explain—” Phil began, although she had no idea how in the world she could. What was she going to say? I’m sorry I was so rude yesterday but I was under a magic spell and I couldn’t help myself. Oh yeah, that was going to go down reeeeal well if the FG’s magic even let them understand her, which she doubted. But she didn’t get a chance to try. Herbert Dickson held up his long thin hand again, cutting her off in mid-sentence.

  “Please, Ms. Swann. As I indicated earlier, when I want a statement from you, I will ask for it.”

  Phil subsided into a miserable silence, twisting her fingers in her lap. Herbert Dickson might just as well hand her the pink slip now. There was no way she was getting out of here with her job, or the letter of recommendation Dickson Senior had promised her. No way in hell. And how was getting fired going to look on her law school applications? Like a big, fat black mark, Phil thought morosely. No legitimate school is going to want me if I get fired like this.

  “As I was saying,” Herbert Dickson continued, breaking her train of thought. “There have been several complaints about you. In the past if such a situation was brought to my attention, I would have interviewed all the participants separately and come to my own conclusion. However, in light of the recent sensitivity training we’ve all undergone I felt it would be more appropriate for us to have a group session. That is, I want all of the injured parties in one room together. In that way, the people you hurt and insulted can express their feelings to you, Ms. Swann, and perhaps you can explain to them what motivated your behavior in the first place.”

  Phil’s mouth went dry as she realized what he was saying. All of them? She was going to be forced to confront all of the people she’d insulted yesterday at the same time? She wanted to get out of her chair and bolt from the room, but her coworkers were already filing in.

  Kelli was first, her lips pressed into a thin, white line as her eyes flickered to Phil and then away again. Next came Davis Miles, looking very uncomfortable. If Phil had had to guess, she would bet that he wasn’t there of his own free will. Probably upper management had forced him to attend this travesty. Last came Alison, slinking close behind Miles with an amused half-smile on her face. She seemed eager to see Phil get what was coming to her. At least Caroline Sanders isn’t here, Phil thought dismally, wondering what color eyebrows her elderly coworker was wearing today.

  They ranged themselves around the semicircle with Miles sitting closest to Phil, Alison on the other side of him, and Kelli beside her. Phil tried not to look at any of them as the head of HR got up and shut the heavy office door, trapping her in the room.

  “Now.” He settled back at his desk and rubbed his long hands together with a dry, papery sound. “Let’s get started, shall we? Who would like to air a grievance first?”

  “I will.” Kelli raised her hand as though she were in school and knew the answer to the teacher’s question.

  “Yes, you may begin.” The HR director nodded at her and drew a pen and paper forward to take notes.

  “Okay, right. So Philomena came in here yesterday practically an hour late and when I told her how late she was, she jumped all over me. And then when I tried to make small talk with her, she yelled at me and told me to shut up!” Kelli’s eyes brimmed with easy tears. “I mean, I don’t know what got into her! We’ve been friends for all these years and suddenly she just turned on me like… like some kind of rabid dog or something, I don’t know. And—”

  “Enough.” Herbert Dickson held up a hand. “Ms. Swann,” he said, turning to Phil. “Have you anything to say in your defense? Or perhaps an apology you’d like to make?”

  Phil looked between the head of HR and her annoying cubicle mate and was filled with a rush of helpless rage. No doubt they expected her to do one of two things—one, she would knuckle under as she always had and mutter an abject apology she really didn’t mean. Or two—she would have another outburst the way she had yesterday and tell them all to shut up and go to hell. That would give them grounds for firing her at once which was no doubt what Herbert Dickson wanted. After all, disgruntled employees who are fired for acts against other employees don’t have the strongest case in court should they decide to sue. If Phil yelled sexual harassment, they could always point at her file and say that she was a problem employee who had been called on the carpet for abusing and harassing others. It was a catch 22. Damned if she did, damned if she didn’t.

  “Ms. Swann? We’re waiting.” Herbert Dickson sounded annoyed and Phil realized she’d paused too long before giving an answer. She took a deep breath and decided not to meet either one of their expectations.

  “Firstly, let me say that we are coworkers, Kelli,” she said, facing her tight-lipped cubicle mate. “But as far as I am concerned, we have never been friends. Every work day for as long as I can remember, I have had to put up with your chatter about your personal life while I was trying to meet the goals and expectations set by my superiors. Yesterday I was, as you say, late, and I wasn’t feeling myself. When you started in with the inane details of your life for what felt like the five millionth time, I just lost it. I realize I shouldn’t have told you to shut up but then again, you shouldn’t have been talking to me about personal business when I was trying to work.”

  Phil sat back in her chair and released a trembling breath as she watched Kelli’s jaw drop. There. Professional and to the point. She didn’t scream and she didn’t apologize. Well, not much anyway. She could almost hear Josh’s voice inside her head, cheering her on. Suck on that Dickhead!

  “Well. I’m afraid that’s a rather unfortunate way to put things.” Herbert Dickson’s mouth was pursed as though he’d been sucking something sour. “But if we may move on—”

  “Wait! I’m not ready to move on.” Kelli sounded genuinely angry. She glared at Phil from her side of the semicircle and Phil did her best to return the look coolly.<
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  “Really now, I—” Herbert Dickson began.

  “You said we’d get a chance to say what we felt,” Kelli pouted. “Well I’m not done yet.” She crossed her arms over her chest and directed her statements to Phil. “It seems to me that if you had a problem with me you could’ve told me instead of waiting until you went crazy, exploding all over me that way. And honestly, I don’t know why I talk so much. Maybe because when I’m talking, I can’t hear myself thinking. Because I think a lot. About some very scary things.”

  “Well, I think that’s—” the HR director began again, but Kelli was on a roll.

  “I think about death and dying and how it’s going to be when I get old and dried up and nasty looking and I know I’m gonna die real soon,” she continued. “And I know everybody thinks about things like that, but I think about worse things, too.”

  Phil raised an eyebrow at her. “Worse than dying?”

  “Yeah.” Kelli’s bottom lip quivered. “I think of all the things I’m afraid of. Like cockroaches—what if one crawled in my ear while I was asleep at night? I would just die—I couldn’t live through something like that, I know I couldn’t. And what about spiders? Poisonous ones like black widows and brown recluses? I read about a man who got bitten by a brown recluse and the venom or poison or whatever you call it ate up his entire left leg and they had to amputate. What if something like that happened to me? How could I stand it?”

  “Now, we really must—” Herbert Dickson tried for the third time.

  “And what about clowns? How scary are they?” Kelli’s bottom lip was trembling now. “I used to dream when I was a kid that a killer clown lived in my closet. And I was so sure that he would come out one night, his face all white from the greasepaint and his big rubbery lips all red with blood, holding a machete and calling my name. Kelli…