toward the shoe nook. “I’m insulted you have to ask.”
“And the files are forgotten,” Kelsey murmured, sorting through some proposal sheets
because she could not physically tolerate paperwork being out of order.
“We are going to get some work done tonight,” I insisted. “Right after I look at some
shoes.”
“And by that, you mean all the shoes,” Kelsey called as I scurried into the shoe room.
Angela turned to Kelsey, whose body-image issues made her selection process even less
fun than mine, if it could be believed. “Okay, problem child, your turn.”
• • •
I would like to say we struck a great victory for honesty and fair play with what
became known as the Pubic Funding Address. But honestly, we hurt Vaughn more when
we hoarded all the jelly donuts for a week, weakening the enemy by cutting off his
morning snack supplies.
On the rare occasion I ventured into the office’s “Vaughn zones,” I was sure to find
Gina perched on any available piece of furniture, engaged in some serious flirtation
with him. She’d act so surprised to see me, as if she’d forgotten that I worked there,
which made me want to smack her. I’d wanted to smack Gina a lot lately. While I’d
always found her vapid and annoying, somehow her attachment to the carpetbagger from
Ohio County had served to increase my hostility to “don’t make me take off my earrings”
levels. It wasn’t jealousy, because I definitely didn’t want Vaughn. I wanted him
gone.
For the sake of professionalism, Ray had to remain impartial in our strange office-based
parody of the Hatfields versus the McCoys. (Bonnie avoided us both because she thought
the air of competition between our offices was “unhealthy.”)
Josh Vaughn was tap-dancing on my last damn nerve. He was always “checking in” to
see if I needed any help with my campaign, which on the surface seemed nice enough,
but it was done in a condescending tone that made me want to staple his lips to his
tie. He was not my boss, damn it, but he certainly was behaving like he already had
Ray’s job.
As if the mind games and “helpfulness” were not enough, he was always there . Despite my attempts to avoid being in the same room with him, he somehow always
managed to be in the break room, in the elevator, in my office, in my space. He stood
too close, head bent, his mouth nearly brushing my ear. It just skirted the border
of inappropriate, but “almost touching me and making me feel all tingly” was nothing
I could take to HR. The worst part was the damn Mothra-size butterflies it set loose
in my belly when his breath grazed my neck, the stupid way my pulse sped up when he
handed me a file and my fingers brushed his.
These bizarre reactions, combined with my strong impression that he seemed to get
a little more attractive with every passing day, were demoralizing. The more confident
he got, the wider his smile stretched across that generous mouth. His blue eyes twinkled
mischievously as he set my blood to boil. I would not be that girl, I told myself.
I hadn’t fallen into the backseat with the cute quarterback who stole my homework
in high school. I would not fall for the hot guy who was trying to steal my job.
My attempts to avoid Vaughn were brought to an abrupt end one morning when Ray called
us both into the conference room and tossed two hats at us. This was actually a pretty
typical way for Ray to start a meeting, but Vaughn seemed startled and irritated to
have a navy-blue Civil War–era slouch cap slap him in the face. I managed to cover
my snicker with the large gray Confederate cavalry hat Ray had lobbed at me.
“Okay, you two, I couldn’t help but notice that you’re still not working together
like happy little campers. I respect the two of you too much to ask you to shake hands
and be best friends. Well, ‘respect’ may not be the word, but it’s much nicer than
the one
“And the files are forgotten,” Kelsey murmured, sorting through some proposal sheets
because she could not physically tolerate paperwork being out of order.
“We are going to get some work done tonight,” I insisted. “Right after I look at some
shoes.”
“And by that, you mean all the shoes,” Kelsey called as I scurried into the shoe room.
Angela turned to Kelsey, whose body-image issues made her selection process even less
fun than mine, if it could be believed. “Okay, problem child, your turn.”
• • •
I would like to say we struck a great victory for honesty and fair play with what
became known as the Pubic Funding Address. But honestly, we hurt Vaughn more when
we hoarded all the jelly donuts for a week, weakening the enemy by cutting off his
morning snack supplies.
On the rare occasion I ventured into the office’s “Vaughn zones,” I was sure to find
Gina perched on any available piece of furniture, engaged in some serious flirtation
with him. She’d act so surprised to see me, as if she’d forgotten that I worked there,
which made me want to smack her. I’d wanted to smack Gina a lot lately. While I’d
always found her vapid and annoying, somehow her attachment to the carpetbagger from
Ohio County had served to increase my hostility to “don’t make me take off my earrings”
levels. It wasn’t jealousy, because I definitely didn’t want Vaughn. I wanted him
gone.
For the sake of professionalism, Ray had to remain impartial in our strange office-based
parody of the Hatfields versus the McCoys. (Bonnie avoided us both because she thought
the air of competition between our offices was “unhealthy.”)
Josh Vaughn was tap-dancing on my last damn nerve. He was always “checking in” to
see if I needed any help with my campaign, which on the surface seemed nice enough,
but it was done in a condescending tone that made me want to staple his lips to his
tie. He was not my boss, damn it, but he certainly was behaving like he already had
Ray’s job.
As if the mind games and “helpfulness” were not enough, he was always there . Despite my attempts to avoid being in the same room with him, he somehow always
managed to be in the break room, in the elevator, in my office, in my space. He stood
too close, head bent, his mouth nearly brushing my ear. It just skirted the border
of inappropriate, but “almost touching me and making me feel all tingly” was nothing
I could take to HR. The worst part was the damn Mothra-size butterflies it set loose
in my belly when his breath grazed my neck, the stupid way my pulse sped up when he
handed me a file and my fingers brushed his.
These bizarre reactions, combined with my strong impression that he seemed to get
a little more attractive with every passing day, were demoralizing. The more confident
he got, the wider his smile stretched across that generous mouth. His blue eyes twinkled
mischievously as he set my blood to boil. I would not be that girl, I told myself.
I hadn’t fallen into the backseat with the cute quarterback who stole my homework
in high school. I would not fall for the hot guy who was trying to steal my job.
My attempts to avoid Vaughn were brought to an abrupt end one morning when Ray called
us both into the conference room and tossed two hats at us. This was actually a pretty
typical way for Ray to start a meeting, but Vaughn seemed startled and irritated to
have a navy-blue Civil War–era slouch cap slap him in the face. I managed to cover
my snicker with the large gray Confederate cavalry hat Ray had lobbed at me.
“Okay, you two, I couldn’t help but notice that you’re still not working together
like happy little campers. I respect the two of you too much to ask you to shake hands
and be best friends. Well, ‘respect’ may not be the word, but it’s much nicer than
the one
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