by Kayt Miller
“What?” I stand and walk to the side of his desk, watching out for Sky’s crate.
“How could I be so dense?” he mutters. “We were working on the rebranding.”
“Rebranding? For MFH?”
“Yeah. It was a huge undertaking. Silvia, Lindsay, and I were the leads.”
“Makes sense. What do you think happened?” I pause. “I mean, assuming Lindsay’s our author, what happened?”
Ben stands and steps around Sky’s crate, heading straight for me. For a second, I think he’s going to do something—hug me, something. But I’m wrong. Of course I’m wrong. Giving me a sweet smile, he says, “Excuse me.” He points to his filing cabinet. “Let me get the files.”
“Oh. Sorry.” My big bottom’s in the way.
He touches my arm, “Don’t move. Just let me grab this.”
Embarrassed, I step back over to the chair, but I don’t sit because I want to be able to see what he’s looking at in his files. While his back is to me, I quickly glimpse his backside. He’s taken off his suit jacket, leaving him in gray slacks and a blue dress shirt. He’s so damn good-looking. When my eyes hit his butt, I quickly look away. He’s got a great ass. It looks firm and round. I mean, if I linger there too long, I’m afraid my hand is just going to find its way there, and that’d be wrong. So wrong.
“Here.” He says it so suddenly I jump.
Instead of going back to his seat, he moves closer to me. Placing the file on his desk, he opens it and begins leafing through the papers. “I remember this being a big pain in the ass. Graham hated every idea we had.” He’s quiet for several more minutes as he reads the file. “Here.” He points to a notation on one of his handwritten pages. “This is what we ended up with and….” He runs a hand through his hair again. “She’s right.”
“Who’s right?”
“Lindsay.” He sighs. “I didn’t steal her idea, but I’m the one who presented the winning idea to Graham over dinner. Just the two of us.”
I frown. “You didn’t tell him it was Lindsay’s idea?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “While the concept was hers, we all worked on it to get it ready for Graham. But that was wrong. I can see that now. She should have gotten credit for it. Graham made a big deal about it at our monthly meeting, mentioning my name over the other two members of the team.” He rubs both hands over his face. “God, I’m an asshole.”
I place my hand on his shoulder and rub up and down a little, doing what I can to ease his guilt. “It happens all the time, Ben.” Not that it’s a good thing, but we’re all likely to accept credit if it’s given to us, especially in front of a group. It’s human nature. And honestly, women get slighted far more often than men. They just do.
He looks down at me, and our eyes meet. “How can I make this right?”
“I’m not sure you can at this point, but let me think about it.” Suddenly, I laugh. It’s a nervous one and not at all funny.
“What?” A confused expression slides across Ben’s face, causing his brows to furrow. Why is that adorable?
“That poor woman.” My laughs turn into hysterical giggles.
“What? Why?”
I bend at the waist, trying to get my laughs under control. Then they suddenly turn to tears. “She… she had her lunch stolen by her boss and her ideas stolen by her colleague.” I sniffle. “I don’t blame her. I’d have written up a file like that too. It’s a bunch of crap.”
Ben looks hurt, so I shake my head. “I know you didn’t mean to do it. It happens. It’s just that she got screwed.” And there are times, just like this one, when I need to stand with a female colleague. “I’m not saying she did the right thing, but I get her motivation.”
“I do too.” Ben nods. “I feel like shit.”
Then I remember. Facing him, I place my hands on my hips. “What about her claim about favoritism?”
“I was already thinking about that. In the break room last week, she mentioned that Sam had never asked her to join him for drinks after work. It’s always just been Brendan and me and sometimes Silvia along with a couple of the other managers.”
“Why would he do that?”
He shrugs. “She’s got kids.”
“So does Brendan.” My brows are furrowed, and my voice is curt because this makes me angry. I’m starting to feel like I need to wear a Team Lindsay T-shirt.
Ben turns to face me. “Hey. I know this is wrong. It’s sexist bullshit. And no, I didn’t see it before, but I do now.”
“I know.” I get it, but it’s still bullshit. Crossing my arms in front of me, I demand, “So, what are you going to do about it?”
He runs his palm over his face again. “I’m going to fix it.”
“What about Sam? Shouldn’t he be the one ‘fixing’ some of this too?”
“Yes.” Ben nods. “Definitely. I’m just not sure how to go about making all these wrongs right.”
“It’s not just you, Ben. Sam and Graham need to play a role as well.”
“Are you going to tell Graham all of this?”
Is he asking me not to? Because if he is….
“I think you should.”
Oh thank God. He’s turning out to be the man I’d hoped he was. “Let me talk to Lindsay. Then I’ll write up my report for Graham.”
“In the meantime, I’ll speak to Sam. I can go over at lunch.” He looks over his desk at Sky. “Oh, I can’t….”
“I’ll take Sky. She can sit with me in the conference room while you go to the hospital.”
“But—”
“If we’re right about this, then my work here is nearly done.”
That means, depending on the fallout, Ben and I could possibly, maybe….
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Ben
“So you’re saying I’m the one to blame for all the bad shit that’s been going on in the department?” Sam’s tone is telling me everything I need to know. He thinks that’s bullshit.
“No. Not everything. You stole her lunch. I don’t know how many times, but once was probably enough.”
Sam looks sheepish now. “She always had something great, and I can’t cook. Plus I’m getting sucked dry financially by my ex.”
“If you needed help with lunch, you could have told me. I thought we were friends.” Not anymore, but at one time, I thought we were.
“I know,” he mumbles. “Fuck.”
“And as for the part about never inviting her out for drinks?”
He’s thinking about this one. I can practically see the cogs rolling around in his head. “This is between you and me.”
“I’m not sure I can do that.”
“Fine,” he growls. “She’s the spitting image of my ex-wife. Hell, her kids look like my kids. I couldn’t stand the thought of sitting across from her doing something I love most in this world—drinking. She’d ruin it just like my former wife did.”
His words surprise me so much that a laugh escapes even though it’s not funny. Not at all. I mean, if drinking is his favorite thing to do, then he’s got bigger problems than the ones at work. “Then none of us should have been invited.”
“Now. Now none of you should be invited. I had no idea she’d get all bent out of shape. I can’t be blamed just because some chick got butt-hurt because I didn’t invite her to party.” That last bit was said in a high-pitched voice that, I assume, was supposed to sound feminine. It didn’t. It just sounded bitter.
His words only reinforce what I’ve been thinking about Sam lately. He’s a sexist, out-of-touch asshole. “I’m afraid we’re both in trouble.”
“Told ya.” He snorts. “Your ass is gone. You need to do what I told you to do and fuck that consultant.”
“And I thought you were just drunk when you spewed that bullshit at the bar. I’m seeing a side of you I don’t really like, Sam.” But regardless of how he said it, he’s right. Getting fired is a distinct possibility. And I don’t expect Alison to do me any favors. She’s too good for
that—she’s a professional. I’d never ask her too, either.
“God, I hate guys like you.” Sam’s practically spitting the words. He really does hate me.
“Oh? Why’s that?”
“You’re one of those good-looking assholes who get any chick they want and shit just falls into their lap. You’ve barely had to work to get where you are. It took me twice as long to make it into management as it did you, and it’s all because of your looks because God knows you’re not that talented.”
Hmm. Okay. Wow.
It definitely wasn’t the booze doing the talking the other night. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”
“You’re the one who should be sorry. It’s about time you got what’s coming to you, Ben.”
What happened to the guy I visited yesterday? That guy was a tad remorseful. I should cut him a break. Maybe he needs pain meds. No, he’s detoxing. “You need something for the pain?”
“Why the fuck do you care? Jesus,” he mutters. “Get the fuck out of here.”
On that note, I stand and walk out of his room, and for the first time since I’ve been with Morgan Financial, I sort of wish I’d chosen teaching. Money isn’t worth this bullshit.
“It didn’t go well.” I’m standing in the doorway to the conference room. Alison is sitting on the floor next to Sky’s crate, stroking the top of her head.
“No?”
“No. He hates my guts, and I truly believe he thinks women to be the devil.”
“I knew the second part. Why does he hate you, though? I thought you two were friends?”
I hesitate to tell her the truth because it’s embarrassing so I say it quickly. “He said I got where I am because of my looks.”
Her head pops up from looking at Sky to stare into my eyes. “Excuse me?”
She’s making me repeat it? “He said I don’t have any talent and that the only reason I’m in this job is because of my looks.”
She covers her mouth with her palm, obviously trying to stifle the laugh. I get it. It’s funny to her.
“If I were a woman, would you be laughing?” I mean, come on.
Her laugh stops suddenly. In a matter of seconds, she looks as though she may cry. “Oh my…. You’re right, Ben. I’m so, so sorry.”
Walking over to her, I squat down so we’re almost at eye level. “I know you didn’t mean it, but it’s true. That’s what we, in the biz, call a double standard.”
“You… you’re right. I’m the worst.”
I have the intense urge to reach out and wrap her up in my arms, but I can’t because we’re essentially sitting in a fishbowl. Everyone in my department can see in here. “No you’re not. We all do it.”
Reaching out, I take Sky’s kennel. “I need to take her outside.”
She shakes her head. “I just took her. She’s also eaten her lunch and has drunk a bunch of water.” Reaching out, she touches Sky’s head. “She’s such a good girl.”
Fuck. This woman right here. She’s the entire package. Sweet, beautiful, kind, and smart as hell.
I could fall in love with her.
Just. Like. That.
Chapter Thirty
Alison
“So, this is it?” Graham says after reading my report. “This is all about Lindsay Barker.”
“No, I wouldn’t say it’s all about her. I’d say it’s about a number of people within the department who made some errors in judgment. Lindsay seemed to be the one who took the brunt of those errors.”
“So, Sam Ford steals fucking lunches? Don’t I pay him enough?”
“That’s between you and Sam. All I know is he’s dealing with large child support payments that are taken directly from his paycheck.”
“And that’s my fault?” Graham’s voice is getting more agitated.
“No. That’s all on Sam.”
“And Ben taking credit for Lindsay’s idea?”
“I don’t think he meant to. It just sort of snowballed.”
“Still. That’s bullshit. He should have manned up.”
I hate that expression. It’s sexist at its core. “He should have done the right thing, you mean.”
“No. I mean if he had balls, he would have given credit where credit is due.”
The balls analogy is even worse. “You’re being sexist.”
“Excuse me?” He leans forward. “Because I said ‘balls’?”
“Yes.”
“Fine,” he snaps as he sits back into his chair. “He should have done the right thing.”
“What about the claim of favoritism?”
“Sam again.” Graham shakes his head. “He’s got a drinking problem.”
He seems to want to give Sam the benefit of the doubt, but Ben, not so much. “And a favoritism problem.”
“Because she looks like his ex?” Graham chuckles. “I can relate to that.”
“None of this is funny, Mr. Morgan.”
Rubbing his chin, he nods. “No, it’s not. I need to get with HR about all of this. Thank you for all of your hard work. Please send me your bill.”
And that’s it? I’m done? I guess I am, since I answered the questions as it relates to the green file. I still have others, though.
“If I may….”
“What?”
“I still have some unanswered questions.”
“Like?”
“Like who provided Ben with the incorrect social media data for his presentation?”
“You’re sure making it obvious.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Ben. You’re trying to help him, but I think it may be a fruitless endeavor.”
“I like both Ben and Lindsay. Actually, I like almost everyone in your department.”
“Almost?”
I’m not about to tell him my feelings about Sam and Clive. “Almost.”
“Who doesn’t make the cut? Sam?”
I don’t say a word.
“Okay. Sam and who else?”
“I’m not going to say.”
“I know it’s Clive because he took your office and hasn’t done jack shit since I promoted him.”
“What’s he supposed to be doing?”
“Spying. Giving me intel.”
“And how’s that going?” I smirk. The guy hasn’t stepped foot from his office except to go to lunch. I know because I’ve kept an eye on him, and because people have been talking.
Graham scoffs. “Not good. According to IT, all he does all day is play video games.”
I put my hand over my mouth to stop the laugh, but it’s no good.
“It’s not funny.” But then he smirks. “He’s the one who handed me the folder.”
“Oh?” I’m not surprised. But this means he wasn’t completely truthful with Ben about all of it. If he and Lindsay were in on this together…. “I think he and Lindsay have been co-conspirators, especially as it relates to Ben. My guess is she’s the source of the incorrect social media data and Clive’s the one who added it to his presentation.”
Graham leans way back in his seat as he rubs his palms over his face. “Jesus. That department is going to be the death of me. So much fucking drama.”
“Yeah, well, it’s because marketing is a creative field, and creative minds tend to have feelings.”
“Fuck feelings.” He must know his words are absurd because he laughs after he says them, which makes me laugh too.
The meeting with Graham went as well as could be expected. Unfortunately, I wasn’t privy to any decisions he may make based on my report.
I’m a little fearful for Ben. I did my best to write the report as objectively as possible, but it wasn’t easy. I have feelings for the man, but he made some mistakes. Mistakes I hope he’ll learn from. I think he will. As for Sam? I’m not so sure.
The one good thing that came from my discussion with Graham is he decided I should stick around for a bit longer. He wants me to find out who was behind the social media data issue, for one. For another, well, I�
�m not sure.
“How’d it go?”
I’m so deep in my own thoughts that I jump hearing Ben’s voice. Looking up, I see he’s standing in the doorway to my temporary office. “I think it went okay.” What else am I supposed to say?
“Am I fired?”
I shake my head. “I didn’t get that impression, but honestly, I presented my report and he said he’d think it over. So I don’t know what’s going to happen.”
Ben’s hands are at his sides, but they’re twitching a little bit. “You know all that stuff with Sam not taking responsibility has got me thinking….”
I remain silent, waiting for the rest.
“I wrote up an email.”
I arch a brow. “An email?”
“Apologizing to Lindsay for taking credit for her idea.”
I reach out and open my email app. I search for my new email but don’t see anything from Ben. “Did you send it?”
“Not yet.” He steps closer, pulling a folded piece of paper out of his pocket, unfolding it as he walks. “Will you read it and see what you think?”
“Sure.” I take the paper and begin to read.
To: [email protected]
From: Ben Schilling
Re: Apology
As you know, last year Morgan Financial Holdings went through rebranding. I was part of the team who worked on that project along with Silvia McAllister and Lindsay Barker. I presented our idea to Mr. Morgan on my own, and because of that, he gave me credit for the winning concept when that credit should have gone to Lindsay Barker. I took credit when I shouldn’t have. I would like to sincerely apologize to Lindsay and say that while it was unintentional, I did nothing to correct Mr. Morgan’s impression that it was my idea. That is not acceptable, nor is it professional. I’m sorry.
Ben Schilling
“Wow.” I blink at Ben a few times. “You’re sending this to the entire company?”
His head moves up once, then down.