TWO WEEKS' NOTICE

by Whitney G.

  “Then you can stay here and do that shit.” He hissed. “I told you I’d give you anything you wanted to stay. Anything.”

  “With all due respect, I need to learn all the different layers of the industry, and I need to learn from another type of leadership. I can’t work under you anymore, in any capacity. I didn’t think that—”

  “You didn’t think at all.” He cut me off. “If you’d told me you were even considering applying there, I would’ve told you that the CEO is a liar and whatever he promised you won’t happen. I would’ve also told you that there’s no way I’m going to continue dating you and sleeping with you at night, while you’re talking to him every damn day.”

  “I really wish you would give me a chance to explain,” I said, narrowing my eyes at him. “This isn’t what you think it is, and I’ve done my due diligence to make sure that there isn’t a conflict of interest.”

  “It was a conflict of interest the moment you took an interview with them and didn’t tell me,” he said, clenching his jaw. “Get the hell out of my office. Now.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “Get the hell out of my office,” he repeated the words, harsher this time. “Surely you have an office at Marriott where you can waste your breath and talk about all the things you didn’t think about. I’ve heard enough.”

  “Preston—”

  “I never got the chance to call security on you the day we met.” He picked up his phone. “Would you like me to finally make up for that?”

  “I dare you.” I was seconds away from losing it. “If you’d stop talking so damn much for once and finally listen to someone other than yourself, you’d see that we’re saying the same thing. I do want to work for myself.”

  “But not before you work for Marriott, right? That’s why you didn’t tell me?”

  “I didn’t tell you, because I knew how you would react.”

  “So, you knew this was coming?” He pressed a button his phone, still glaring at me. “I need someone to remove Miss Lauren from my property. Now. And while we’re at it, she’s officially persona non grata at all my hotels. Make sure the staff who work the breakfast bars are well aware of this fact just in case she shows up there again.”

  I shook my head. “Thank you for showing me that you’re exactly who I thought you were when I first started here. Thank you for also showing me that the past six weeks meant nothing to you.”

  “The door is behind you. You don’t need to talk in order to walk out of it.”

  “I can guarantee that I’ll never talk to you again.”

  “Then why are your lips still moving?”

  I knocked the box off his desk and stormed out of his office. I took the elevator down to the lobby, not bothering to get one last look at my corner office.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Tara

  SUBJECT: STARTING DAY & An Amendment

  Mr. Greywood,

  If possible, I’d like to start my new position as your general counsel this week instead of next week.

  Thank you,

  Tara Lauren

  Marriott International

  ONE WEEK LATER...

  THIRTY-THREE

  Preston

  THE MID-SCALE RESTAURANT I was currently sitting in reminded me why I tended to avoid places like this as much as possible. The waiters were all high school students who were far more interested in talking to each other than taking my order, the kitchen was damn near out of everything I wanted to eat, and the manager was definitely on the phone with Page Six from the wicked gleam in her eye and the way she kept waving at me from across the room.

  We need to get this shit over with.

  I waited until after the “dessert” of packaged ice cream sandwiches was served and set the signing papers on the table.

  “Will Miss Lauren be joining us for this momentous occasion?” Mr. Von Strum smiled at me from across the table. “I was hoping to see her one last time.”

  “Miss Lauren is an official traitor to Parker Hotels International, and she will not be present at any meetings moving forward.”

  “What?”

  George kicked me under the table. “What he meant to say was that Miss Lauren is unable to make it tonight, but she wanted to let you know that she’s happy we could finally settle on great terms.”

  “Well, is there any way I could call her?” he asked. “I just want to thank her.”

  “For what?” I said. “Leaving? Going off to be with the enemy?”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of getting me to see what all your company is going to do with my chain, Mr. Parker. She was great to work with, you know?”

  “No, I don’t know. I found her quite average.”

  “Preston, enough.” George tossed his napkin onto the table. “Mr. Von Strum, can you excuse us for one minute, please?” He stood up and glared at me, motioning for me to follow him onto the restaurant’s balcony.

  He demanded that all the wait staff leave us alone, and the second they were gone, he crossed his arms. “Are you out of your mind, Preston? You’ve been chasing this deal for too damn long to lose it over your anger for Miss Lauren.”

  “Can you believe she went there?”

  “Preston, we’ve talked about this all week. All. Week.”

  “Have we?” I shook my head. “You’re the one who told me she was going to Marriott.”

  “I honestly regret that,” he said, sighing. “Look. I didn’t have all the facts. I just assumed that she was going to be an executive assistant again and that she would be used as a way for them to get insider tips on what we do at Parker International.”

  “Isn’t that what she’s doing there?”

  “She’s the acting general counsel, but only until their real general counsel comes back from an extended leave.”

  “It’s the same shit.”

  “I’m your general counsel, and I can tell you that it isn’t.” He paused. “Besides, she came to me a few days ago to amend her employment contract with them, so even if they did try to get her to say anything, she can’t legally.”

  “There’s no way they agreed to that shit.” I was still hurt as hell. “What hotel CEO in their right mind would hire her and not ask her anything about working for me?”

  “I’m sure a ton of them would.” He shrugged, then he smiled. “But she added some fascinating fine print that will prevent her from answering anything. Some of the same fine print that someone else used behind my back.”

  “She used white ink?”

  “Not only did she use white ink at the end of her contract, but she also added little notes throughout the first part of the contract in white ink as well.”

  I held back a smile. I was still pissed.

  “Now, if you don’t mind,” he said. “I need you to go in there and not think about Miss Lauren for all of five minutes so we can seal this deal.”

  “Not thinking about her won’t be a problem.”

  “That’s why you’ve been checking on her via the concierge at her condo all week, right?”

  I said nothing.

  “Five minutes, Preston.” He pointed to the doors. “That’s it.”

  We returned to the table, and Mr. Von Strum was standing to his feet.

  “We’re so sorry to keep you waiting, Mr. Von Strum,” George said, panicked. “Are you no longer interested in signing the deal with us?”

  “Not even close.” He smiled and pointed to the papers, his signature freshly inked on each one. “I just want to get the hell out of here, as I refuse to believe that Mr. Parker takes his business guests to a place where the waiters have yet to realize that they’ve only served us dessert and nothing else.”

  “You’re correct.” I smiled and placed his papers into my briefcase. “I thought you liked cheap, dive-bar food.”

  “I do, but I never said I didn’t appreciate an expensive meal on someone else’s dime.” He laughed. “Show me where you’d dine on a night like this, Mr. Parker.”

&nb
sp; “Fair enough.” I shook his hand and led him and George to the gum-stained elevator.

  “Would you like me to drive?” he asked. “I’m sure your chauffeur is going to have a hell of a time getting down here in the traffic.”

  “There’s no need to drive.” I pulled out my phone. “I took my helicopter here.”

  He shook his head. “You have nothing else better to do with your money, do you?”

  “Would it make you feel better if I told you I have a niece who doesn’t give a damn about it and only wants to play with fifty cent cardboard boxes and teddy bears?”

  He laughed and patted my shoulder. “Only a little.”

  THIRTY-FOUR

  Tara

  I WALKED THROUGH THE doors at Marriott International for another day, shutting my office door behind me. Heartbroken and angry, I was still so wired into Preston’s life, that I was still having my new town car driver taking me to Sweet Seasons every morning, and some of Preston’s old contacts were still calling my phone and telling me things I no longer cared about.

  Since I wasn’t petty like he was, I forwarded all those calls to his new assistant, and even sent Cynthia text messages about little things I happened to remember from time to time. Then again, since I’d learned a thing or two from his petty playbook, I blocked all his phone numbers and deleted them. (Yes, even though I knew them all by heart.)

  Ugh. Fuck him.

  I pulled up my new CEO’s schedule for the day and pulled out my notepad so I could take some notes.

  Brunch meeting regarding property contracts, afternoon Skype session about legal fees with the Voight Company, and an inventory session with the interns.

  I refreshed the schedule again, knowing that this couldn’t be right. Yet, no matter how many times I refreshed it, those three meetings were the only things that appeared. I looked at the schedule for the entire week and saw that there were only two to three events per day.

  That’s it?

  I picked up my desk phone and called his secretary.

  “Good morning, Miss Lauren!” she answered on the first ring. “Is everything going okay during your first week?”

  “It’s been more than okay so far.”

  “Well, great! How may I help you?”

  “I was looking over the schedule for Mr. Greywood, and there are only two to three things a day. Is there a private calendar I’m missing?”

  “No, that’s right. Mr. Greywood likes to keep his days simple and stress-free.”

  “Well, since most of these meetings are already handled, do you have any idea what his current general counsel would do? I don’t want to contact him about this just yet since I’m trying to be a great interim, you know?”

  “If I were you, I would just enjoy the lush job, Miss Lauren,” she said, sounding genuine. “Mr. Greywood doesn’t trust women, and he hired you and me to make himself look good on the outside. His true general counsel is a guy named Bob who he trusts with his life. But that job is so hectic that no woman would be able to handle it. Trust me.” She laughed. “Treat yourself to one of our spas downstairs, answer a few emails, and check on things every hour or so. Then take a breath and smile because you officially have the best job in all of New York.”

  “Right...”

  “Is there anything else I can do for you?”

  “No, but thank you and the rest of the staff for the sweets basket.”

  “We didn’t send you that sweets basket,” she said. “That came from Preston Parker.” She ended the call, and I stared at the basket—tempted to toss it into the trash.

  The last thing I needed right now was any memories of him. I stood up and left my office, hitting the lights.

  I’d rather take her up on that spa offer.

  TWO WEEKS LATER

  THIRTY-FIVE

  Tara

  SUBJECT: How’s your job at the #2 hotel chain?

  Subject: I need to talk to you about the last time you were in my office.

  Subject: I’ve called you fifty times this week.

  Subject: Did you block my number?

  Subject: I know you see these damn emails, Tara...

  I DELETED THE LATEST page of Preston’s emails and headed downstairs to the tech department.

  “Good morning, Miss Lauren.” The director smiled at me. “How can I help you?”

  “I’d like you to flag and block an email address from sending things to my inbox from here on out,” I said. “For some reason, my blocker isn’t working.”

  “Of course, Miss. What’s the email address?”

  “PrestonCEOParker@ParkerHotels.com.”

  “Oh.” He sighed. “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “You’ll see what you can do? All you have to do is place it on the block list just like all the other addresses you have blocked.”

  “Well, it’s slightly more complicated than that. It takes a lot of technical skill, and sometimes certain addresses slip through anyway.”

  I gave him a blank stare.

  “The internet is a crazy place, you know? It’s super crazy.”

  “How much is Mr. Parker paying you to keep him off my block list?”

  “What?” His cheeks reddened, a dead giveaway. “Nothing. I wouldn’t dare take his money for something as simple as this. I mean—”

  “How much?”

  “Two thousand a week.”

  “I’ll double it.”

  “He said you’d say that if you found out,” he whispered.

  “And?”

  “He said that I was supposed to call him when that happened.”

  “You’re not going to call him,” I said. “Because if you do, I’ll have you fired for fraternizing with the competition.”

  “Competition? Marriott is nowhere near the same league as the Parker Hotels, Miss Lauren. The Parker Hotels are like so way ahead that it’s almost laughable.”

  “That’s not what your employee handbook says.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “You will not call him. I don’t care what he offered you. Clear?”

  He nodded. “Clear.”

  “Good.” I started to walk out of his office, but he called my name, making me look over my shoulder. “Yes?”

  “Um. He offered me a bonus if I could make you finally open one of the baskets he’s sent.” He walked over to our main storage room and opened it, revealing all the huge gift baskets that arrived three times a day like clockwork. “So, would it kill you to open one and let me get a picture for him? I mean, it’s just a picture, and you’d be helping the less fortunate, right?”

  I shook my head and walked away.

  Jesus, Preston.

  THIRTY-SIX

  Preston

  I WASN’T USED TO TARA not talking to me.

  I wasn’t used to not seeing or hearing from her for this long and I’d yet to admit it, but the shit hurt like hell. It especially stung more each time I had to call for my new executive assistant who was nowhere near as good as she was, or anytime Violet asked if she was coming over.

  She was ignoring all of my emails and text messages, and if I knew her like I thought I did, she was probably placing all of my gifts in a closet somewhere.

  Sighing, I picked up my desk phone and called Taylor.

  “Yes, Mr. Parker?” he answered on the first ring.

  “You forgot to bring me my short-list this morning.”

  “Oh, yeah,” he said. “Be right there.” He ended the call and walked into my office a few seconds later.

  He was a decent assistant, although he struggled to understand the art of sarcasm and he couldn’t get my coffee right to save his life. I’d given up on asking him to get it, and had even used Tara’s Do It Your Goddamn Self list to complete certain aspects of his job.

  “Are you going to start giving me some of your updates, Taylor?” I asked. “Now would be a good time.”

  “Right. Well, I have everything set for your meeting this Friday.” He tapped his lip. “I also have your schedule finalized for you
r conference in Florida next month. Also, Violet’s birthday party planner said she'd be calling you soon.”

  “I already threw Violet a birthday party this year. It was a trip to Disney World.”

  “Yeah, but—” He crossed his arms. “You said that Violet was adjusting to New York at a rapid rate with her new friends and at the rate she was going, she’d want a party at Grand Central Station. I figured you’d want to start planning for that now, right?”

  “That was sarcasm, Taylor.”

  “It didn’t sound like sarcasm. It sounded like you were serious.”

  “That’s the entire point of sarcasm.” I rolled my eyes. “I’m taking her to Disney World next year for her party. In fact, her birthday parties will be there until she turns nine.”

  “You can afford to rent out a section of Grand Central Station for a night, though. I think she’d much prefer that, don’t you think?”

  “Get the hell out of my office, Taylor.”

  “Is that sarcasm?”

  I gave him a blank stare and held back a sigh. “Thank you for your work today. You can go home early if you need to.”

  “Can I say something before I leave, sir?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Well, don’t take this personally, but I can’t help who I am, and I’d appreciate it if you accepted that I’m not Tara. I’ll never be Tara, either.”

  I raised my eyebrow.

  “Today is the first time you’ve called me by my name, and you expect me to know all of the things she does. It’s only been a few weeks, so could you please give me a chance as an individual without all the expectations and things you had with her? That’s all I’m asking.”

  He placed a folder on my desk, not giving me a chance to answer. “I’ll see you tomorrow, sir.”