Just a Name

by Becky Monson

  I hate that she knows me so well.

  “Yeah, we need it in writing,” Thomas says. “I’ll law it up right now on this napkin. Give me a pen, Quinn.” Quinn grabs her purse and gives him a pen.

  He starts writing on the paper napkin, dictating as he writes. “I, Holly Anne Murphy, do hereby declare that I will not ‘Holly up’ this vacation to Europe. I won’t make plans, nor will I plan to make plans, nor will I lie about making plans. I’ll enjoy myself on this trip and let it happen.”

  He writes an x and a line after it and then hands me the pen. “Sign it,” he demands.

  “You guys, I’m not signing this,” I say, trying to push the napkin away from me.

  Quinn grabs it and brings it back to me, “Yes, you are. Come on, Hols, sign it.”

  I grab the pen and pull the napkin toward me. I could just sign it and be done. It’s not like it’s a legally binding document. Thomas can’t sue me if I don’t abide by it, although I wouldn’t put it past him to try.

  “Live a little,” Thomas says, his voice carrying a rarely heard note of sincerity. “You can do this, Holly.”

  If I let go and fly by the seat of my pants on this trip, then what control do I have? I don’t. This is not me. None of it. I don’t want to live life by seeing where the wind will take me. That feels too much like my mom and her crazy hijinks. Those antics of hers always came with a heavy price. I’ve never aspired to be my mom, and I don’t want to become her.

  “What’s holding you back, Hols?” Quinn asks, her motherly tone coming out.

  I let out a breath. “I just feel twitchy.”

  “There’s an ointment for that,” Thomas says, and I peer at him through squinted eyes.

  “You know,” Thomas says, leaning his body toward me, “you can go back to all your stick-up-your-butt ways when you get back. It’s not like you’ll go crazy and forget who you are. You can’t change all this,” he gestures to me with his hand, “on one vacation.”

  “He’s right, Hols. Just sign it,” Bree says. “Try something different.”

  “This whole thing is different enough,” I say.

  “Well, then try something even more different. Something differenter,” she says.

  “That’s not a word,” says Thomas.

  “It is now. I’ve just declared it,” Bree responds, giving him her best snooty look.

  I sigh. Would it kill me to give up even more? Probably not. According to Jim, there are so many ways for me to die on this trip, would an itinerary really change that? It’s not like I could say, “Sorry, you can’t kill me and dump my body in a river today; it’s not on the itinerary.”

  “Fine,” I say, reaching for the pen. “No itinerary it is.”

  Chapter 18

  Agreeing to give up all my plans and expectations for my upcoming trip has been helpful. No, really. Since I’m no longer making plans—no longer rearranging or changing my itinerary, no longer researching or reading blogs, no longer considering what shoes to bring or clothes to pack—I have all this brain space back. Plus, I did so much research already, I’m armed with plenty of information. And Nate has pretty much taken over the job now, sending me links and pictures of places he wants to see. Now that I’m pushing any of my own trip planning thoughts to the side, I can put all that freed up mental space to use by working on my other plan—to get the promotion.

  Marie is still starry-eyed about the trip, still wants to know all the details. On Monday, I told her about my new throw-caution-to-the-wind laissez-faire plans for this trip and she was giddy. There was actual clapping.

  And, okay. I may have led Marie to believe this whole non-planning thing was my idea, and not something I was basically peer-pressured into doing (because that’s exactly what it was). I believe I used words like “embracing new things” and “turning over a new leaf.” Crap like that.

  It was just what Marie wanted to hear. She told me that because of all these changes in me and how I’m handling my team—if I kept it up—she would be giving me her full endorsement when the CCM position—Mike’s job—is publicized.

  This bit of info carried me through the week like I was floating on a cloud. Every now and then, when I thought about the trip and the non-planning and scenarios in which I die, that cloud would dip a little, causing butterflies to dance in my stomach.

  Now, on Friday, I’m finding my little cloud to have pretty much been absorbed back into the atmosphere.

  “So I’m in charge?” Avery asks, her button nose scrunched up so that her glasses are askew on her face.

  “Well, you’re not in charge, per se,” I say, trying not to let the frustration show in my voice. “I just want you to keep things going while I’m gone.”

  “Wouldn’t that mean I’m in charge?” she asks.

  “Why can’t I be in charge?” Sarah-with-an-h asks.

  “Do you want to be in charge?” I say.

  She looks to the side, contemplating, her hair seems extra blond in the fluorescent lighting. “Yeah, probably not.”

  “How about this, you’re all in charge of keeping things going. I’m only asking Avery, here, to make sure everything gets done and report back to me.”

  Avery is the only one I can trust. I don’t want anyone running off to Marie or, heaven forbid, turning to someone like Tiffany if anything were to go wrong. So I’ve told her she should contact me if any problems arise. I’ve made a binder for her to follow and told her under no circumstances is she to tell Marie that I’ve told her she can call me during this trip. Marie would not like that. At all.

  Sara-without-an-h looks up at me. “So if, like, I need to file a complaint, do I do it through Avery?”

  “Why would you need to file a complaint?” I ask. She’s never filed one since I’ve been her boss.

  “I don’t know. I mean, I might have something to complain about. Would I do that through Avery?”

  “Um, no. How about you hold all your complaints until I get back.”

  “But what if it’s, like, super important and can’t wait.”

  “What would that be, exactly?”

  She shrugs one shoulder. “I dunno. Like, what if Brad starts harassing me or something.”

  “Whoa,” Brad says, holding up his hands, palms out. “I’ve never harassed you.”

  “But what if you started?” she says, turning toward him.

  “Yeah, what if you started?” asks the other Sarah.

  “I’m not going to start harassing you,” Brad says.

  “Well, you might. So what do we do if he does?” asks Sara.

  I hold myself back from turning toward the wall behind me and banging my head repeatedly on it.

  “Then you come to me and I’ll tell someone,” says Avery.

  “Me,” I say to Avery, louder than I mean to. “You tell me.”

  “But you’ll be on another continent,” Avery says.

  “You mean country,” Jim pipes up.

  “That too,” she says, turning and giving him a side-eyed glare.

  “Avery,” I say, and she turns to me. “If anyone needs to report anything, you have my permission to contact me. Okay?” I’ll have to pull her aside later and tell her to never let Marie know that or I will assuredly get in trouble.

  “And when will you be back?” Brad asks.

  “If she comes back,” Jim says under his breath.

  “I heard that,” I say, my eyes on Jim. “I’ll be gone for ten days, but I’m not even leaving for another week. So should you have any other questions or concerns, you can still talk to me.”

  Jim raises his hand. “Yes, Jim?” I question, tentatively. I never know what’s going to come out of his mouth. He’s at least chilled on all the ways I could die, thank goodness.

  “If you, say, don’t come back, would Avery be our boss then? I mean, shouldn’t we have something in place, just in case?”

  I stare at Jim, feeling heat travel up my face at a rapid pace. I can’t be trusted to keep my cool right now, so
without responding, I turn and walk out the door.

  ~*~

  “Yoo-hoo!” Tiffany says brightly as she floats in my office later that day wearing a black pencil skirt and a light pink blouse without one wrinkle. Seriously, does she keep a steamer in her office? I need to know her secrets.

  “Hello,” I say, unable to hide the disdain in my voice. I’m finishing up making a PowerPoint presentation for my team with things they can and cannot do while I’m gone. I felt the need to make one after our earlier meeting.

  “And how is Holly today?” she asks, taking a seat in one of the chairs that faces my desk.

  “Just peachy,” I say, plastering a super fake smile on my face, much like the one on hers.

  “So,” she places her hands palms down on my desk, her face very business-like. “Tell me all I need to know.”

  “All you need to know about what?” I ask, drawing my chin in, and wrinkling my nose.

  “What I need to do for your team while you’re gone,” she says.

  “For my . . . huh?” A feeling of unease creeps down my torso and spreads into my stomach.

  “You know, your team. The complaints department. The one you manage.” She says this like she’s talking to a preschooler.

  “What are you doing for my team while I’m gone?” I ask, the unease starting to shift into the beginnings of panic.

  “Managing it.”

  “Why?”

  “Because, silly,” she smiles her very fake smile, “I was asked to. I’ll be in charge of both teams while you’re gone. Yours and mine.”

  Oh, hell no.

  “Who told you that?” I ask, feeling my heart throbbing in my chest as it picks up speed.

  “Marie, of course,” she says. “Is that a problem?” She tilts her head to the side, her face full of fake concern.

  I shake my head rapidly. This is not a problem. Not a problem at all. I tell myself this because I can’t let my facial features show what I’m really feeling: this is the biggest problem in all history.

  Tiffany can’t take over my team while I’m gone. She will sabotage. She’s a saboteur.

  She pulls her head up straight. “You’re not worried, are you? I mean, I can handle two teams. In fact,” she leans her body toward me, “your team might even learn a few things.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I ask, my voice strained.

  “Oh, now don’t go getting your panties in a wad,” she says. “All I’m saying is we manage differently and so maybe they might learn something from me. Just like if my team were managed by you, they might learn something.” She lets out a little snort-laugh and peers down at her hands, her lips twisting like she’s trying to hold back a smile.

  She doesn’t believe I could teach her team a thing or two. Well, I could. I could show them they’re being managed by a two-faced B-word. I’m not exactly sure how I’d be able to pull that off. They’re probably already brainwashed.

  Oh, my gosh. She’s going to brainwash my team. I can’t allow this. My team is easily brainwashed. I mean, Jim isn’t entirely sure where the Pacific Ocean is. And the Sarahs? No, no, no, I can’t let this happen.

  “Right,” I say, willing my face to be calm. “Well, you don’t need to worry about that,” I say, feigning a calm disposition. I am one with the Universe. I sit up straight in my seat. “My team is a well-oiled machine that can fend for itself.”

  I force this out with as much confidence as I can muster, even though I’m lying through my teeth. My team of misfit toys is most likely to break while I’m gone, but that’s why I’ve put things in place to make sure they don’t. With Avery in charge, I’m mostly confident they will be okay. Mostly.

  “Well, I’m sure they can,” she says, her tone full of sarcasm. “But regardless, I’ve been asked to manage your team while you’re gone, and that I will do.” She slaps the table lightly with her hand.

  “It’s really not necessary. I’ll have a chat with Marie,” I say and then give her my best closed mouth condescending smile.

  She mirrors the smile. “Regardless,” she says, and then takes in a big breath, “it’s what I was asked to do.”

  “Well, regardless,” I say, imitating her use of the word, drawing it out as I do, “you won’t need to after I talk to Marie.”

  She sits back slightly, tucking her bottom lip under her teeth as she stares at me.

  “Why go to all the effort?” she asks after a few seconds of silence. “I mean, you don’t need to. It’s moot since I’ll be running this department soon anyway.”

  “Well, that’s pretty presumptuous of you,” I say, feeling my blood start to boil. “How do you know I won’t be running the department?”

  She laughs, a wicked laugh. “Because I do,” she says. “And this whole trip gimmick thing you’re doing isn’t working.”

  Her tone is so smug right now, I really want to reach across this desk and slap her face. My whole life I’ve never understood why women get into slapping and hair-pulling fights. But I see it now. I can actually envision myself jumping over this desk and pulling Tiffany’s perfectly coiffed hair.

  “It’s not a gimmick,” I say, internally trying to calm myself. “It has nothing to do with the job.”

  “Sure,” she says, sarcasm oozing from her tone. “This whole plan was to get the executives to notice you. I’m not stupid.”

  Oh, but you are stupid, Tiffany. I know what she’s doing here, and two can play this game.

  “Well, that wasn’t intentional, but it’s definitely been a great side effect. They’re loving all the free publicity for the bank,” I say. This is a lie, of course. No one has mentioned it, except initially before anything even happened.

  “No, they’re not,” she says.

  “That’s what I was told,” I say.

  “By who?”

  “Oh, Tiffany,” I angle my head to the side. “You know I can’t tell you who I get my information from.”

  A tinge of red starts at the base of her neck and works its way up her face. Her throat bobs as she tries to keep her best game face on.

  She visibly swallows. “You should know I’ve also found out that when Mike retires, they’re moving our teams under the CCM, which means if, and when, I get the job . . .” she trails off, her eyebrows pulled up toward the ceiling.

  I don’t respond, but I strain to keep my own game face on at this tidbit of information. I hear her loud and clear. If, by some evil mix-up from the Universe, Tiffany gets the CCM position, she’d be my boss. If ever there was a worst-case scenario for my career, this would be it.

  I hadn’t really given my brain a chance to run away with the idea that this job could end up going to Tiffany because of the way Marie has always spoken of me getting it. But what if it does? What if the Universe or karma or whatever is conspiring against me somehow gives Tiffany Mike’s job? Then what would I do? Well, obviously, I’d make her life a living hell. And then plan a way to sabotage her and make it my life’s mission to remove her from the position. She’d rue the day. There would be lots of ruing.

  Or, I could just find another job.

  But I don’t want another job. I’ve been at CT Anderson Bank for five years. I’ve worked my way up to where I am, and I’m going to work my way up to the top. I want to sit on that executive team, dammit. That is, and always has been, my plan.

  Tiffany stands up. “Don’t you worry, dear Holly. I’ll be the best boss ever. And if you don’t want to work for me, I’ll be sure to get you the best severance package. No skimping for you.” She says the last part in a high-pitched fairy sounding voice.

  And with that, she walks out the door.

  Chapter 19

  The following Monday I walk into the Lava Java feeling the air conditioning and the smell of coffee blast toward me as I open the door. The handle on the door is hot to the touch as it’s sweltering this early June day.

  I don’t know why I’m here, really. I sort of robotically came down here after my meeting with
Marie. Like my subconscious thought I might find some answers here at the Lava Java. With Logan. My subconscious must have lost its mind.

  Regardless, I’m here now—although a glass of wine or something to numb my pain would be more welcome since my meeting with Marie went about as well as an all-vegan buffet at a Cattlemen’s Association dinner.

  I had made a PowerPoint—my last-ditch effort to get Marie to allow my team to manage themselves and pull Tiffany off the job. But the PowerPoint didn’t do its magic. Marie refused to let my team manage themselves while I’m gone and is certain Tiffany will be fine running both teams. I tried to tell her Tiffany’s evil (in so many words) and would try to sabotage everything, but she wasn’t buying it. Marie’s no fan of Tiffany, but even so, she felt confident Tiffany could handle both teams and that my team wouldn’t be able to fend for themselves, even with all the time I’d spent making sure they could.

  Marie then said, knowing me, I’d probably set my team up to call me while I was gone, and she was having none of that. I denied this profusely, of course, even though that’s exactly what I was planning.

  I finally had to acquiesce. Tiffany will be running my team while I’m gone. This is making a trip I don’t want to go on that much worse. There are so many ways for Tiffany to ruin things. She could feed my team nasty lies about me, report fake stuff back to Marie, and tell everyone I’ve mismanaged my team. I don’t put anything past her. I’m doomed.

  I go to the counter and order a coffee, which once again I’m not charged for. I’ve put this off long enough and it’s not fair to Nathan. In fact, I can’t believe I let it go on as long as I have. I should probably pay him back. It’s the right thing to do.

  I force out a breath, my cheeks puffing up and my lips making a raspberry sound.

  “So, I think you need to take me off Nathan’s tab,” I say.

  “I’m sorry?” the barista—a woman named Denise says. She’s been here for as long as I can remember.

  “Yeah, I’ve been on Nathan’s tab—Nathan Jones?” I say his full name when she still seems to not understand what I’m saying. “And you should probably take me off that.”