Page 3 of Merry Little Hate Notes

You see, I do my best to avoid the following people in my life: My most annoying coworker, my brother’s best friend, the first boy to kiss me, and my gynecologist. The last one is just a given. As nice a man as Dr. Bergman is, I don’t want to run into him at the grocery store. He knows me in ways I try not to think about. Also, I’m kind of salty because he never warms up his speculum and only provides me with basically a paper towel to cover up with during my annual exam. Is it too much to ask for at least a hospital gown? However, if I had to choose between Dr. Bergman and the other three on the list, I would choose him any day over Brandon Cassidy.

Brandon Cassidy—the annoying coworker, my brother’s best friend, and my first kiss all wrapped up in one egotistical package. It was my life’s goal to avoid the man at all costs. Thankfully, he worked out of our Charlotte office and only visited headquarters about once a year—one time too many, in my opinion. But since his dad is the CEO and owner, I couldn’t voice that opinion.Whenever these unfortunate visits occurred, I employed all my best covert avoidance tactics. Even if it meant working from the ladies’ room. A little toilet flushing didn’t bother me. Besides, the restroom had a lounge with a comfy couch in it, and you heard the best gossip there. All I had to do was tell people I was having period issues and no one ever questioned it.

Thankfully, I was usually apprised beforehand of his visits. Brandon was, after all, heir to the throne and beloved by all here at Elevate Technologies. The fatted calf was slain every time he rolled into town. It surprised me he didn’t wear a robe and crown and make everyone kiss his ring as he walked by.

I had a sinking feeling my beforehand-notice luck had just run out. I wasn’t sure how this had happened—I’d only stepped away from my desk for a few minutes. And I hadn’t heard the ticker-tape parade that usually accompanied the return of the crown prince. But the corner of the bright-blue sticky note was proof he was on the premises. All I could do was numbly stare at it.

I couldn’t understand why, after all this time, he would do such a thing. We hadn’t spoken to each other since I was seventeen, the same age I’d been when I left him my final sticky note. I’d quoted Shakespeare:Let’s meet as little as we can. I do desire we may be better strangers. I had never written truer words. He had become a stranger to me after kissing me, then telling Christian he’d only done it as a dare. I was just a punch line to his joke. He didn’t care that he’d broken my heart or that I’d cried for days. Not once did he apologize. In fact, he pretty much ignored me except for the notes he occasionally left me until he went off to college. He’d only tried talking to me once after the unthinkable happened.

I pushed the unthinkable out of my mind. Work wasn’t the place to let that tragedy, or everything that followed, consume me.

Instead, I snapped out of my stupor, snatched the note out of the folder, and read it.

You’re like a gray sprinkle on a rainbow cupcake.

Wow. I guess at thirty-two he was still an immature jerk. Although no one else would believe it—he was beloved by all around here, the top account executive in the entire company. He could sell our cloud-based HR software solutions and close deals in his sleep. And it’s notlike I didn’t already know he thought I was dull. Sadly, he was probably right. We couldn’t all be rainbow sprinkles like Brandon. Not that I actually wanted to be—I detested sprinkles on anything. Why ruin a good cupcake with crunchy, stale-tasting little pebbles?

I crumpled up his stupid note and threw it in the wastebasket under my standing desk. This was the worst day for him to breeze into town. I was already depressed because Marisol, the account executive I had been working under as her business development representative, was leaving the company to be at home with her kiddos. While that was noble and wonderful, I’d begged her to stay. I’d even offered to watch her children at work. She didn’t think that was a viable alternative. But we were the dynamic duo in this office. She was the second-best account executive in the company, and I was the bam to her pow. I didn’t want to bam and pow with anyone else.

Especially because I had a feeling my boss, Camille, was going to stick me with Jason, Mr. I-still-use-Axe-body-spray. I seriously thought they’d banned that stuff in the twenty tens. Maybe I should get a petition going to turn the ban into a reality. While Jason was a top performer and knew how to get the job done, he acted too much like a used-car salesman. The overcologning just made me dread the possibility of working with him even more.

Honestly, it surprised me that Camille hadn’t reassigned me yet. Marisol had let them know months ago she would be leaving in November.

Maybe upper management was waiting for me to finally accept an account executive position, which they’d offered me several times in the seven years I’d worked there. But sales wasn’t in my blood—I didn’t know how to schmooze people. Could I explain the facts like I was presenting to a jury? Yes. That was in my blood.

Although I would never realize my dream of becoming a lawyer, I didn’t want to stay at Elevate Technologies forever. I was only here out of necessity. I needed a good-paying job that wasn’t overly stressful so I could take care of my dad. Bertram Cassidy, Brandon’s dad, had provided me with that opportunity. And for that, I would be forever grateful to him. Someday, though, I would have to come up with a new dream. You know, after I stopped being afraid to dream again.

“Hey, St. James,” my boss, the director of sales, startled me. She called everyone by their last names.

I turned and grinned at Camille, or Tua, as we sometimes called her. Although she grew up in Hawaii, she was of Samoan descent and towered over most people in the office, including me at a paltry five foot six compared to her over-six-foot frame. Some found her intimidating, but inside, she was really a gooey gummy bear. Unless you crossed her or didn’t do your job—then watch out.

“What’s up?” I asked, as if I didn’t know why she had come to talk to me.

Camille tilted her gorgeous head, graced with the darkest most enviable long curls ever. “Are you purposely avoiding Marisol’s going away party?”

Yes, yes, I was. I didn’t want to say goodbye. Goodbyes were the worst. And I’d had too many of them in my life. So while I listened to everyone partying in the common area on our floor, the enterprise level, I couldn’t bring myself to join in just yet.

“Um ... I’m coming. I just need to send some last-minute emails before the holiday.” Which was true. Besides, I feared Brandon was lurking around. No doubt he was probably partying it up with everyone. He never missed an opportunity to shine and work a crowd.

She narrowed her deep-brown eyes. “No one’s going to read them.”

Of course, she was right. It was late afternoon, the day before Thanksgiving. Anyone who was working this week had probably clocked out mentally on Monday. But I was mourning the change coming my way, and I would admit to fearing contact with Brandon. It would just be awkward, and I might have the urge to be juvenile and slip him a sticky note to tell him he was as useless as ... an unsalted pretzel. Yikes, that was kind of lame. I was out of practice, as I should be. I would be thirty years old soon.

Truth be told, I hadn’t bought or used a sticky note since I was seventeen. Those bright little squares held too many memories.

“I’ll be right there,” I promised.

“Very good.”

I nodded, knowing she wasn’t going to let me off the hook. “Hey,have you decided who you’re going to pair me with?” I thought that was important to know, since come Monday morning I would need a new account executive to work with. I hadn’t been told who was taking over Marisol’s accounts. Even so, I was doing my best to keep up with them. I didn’t want to lose any momentum.

Camille looked to the floor and cleared her throat. “We’ll discuss that on Monday after the holiday.”

What? No. No. No. I need to know now. How can I enjoy the long weekend with this hanging over my head?“Am I getting fired?” I couldn’t help but ask.

Camille’s head snapped up. “Of course not. You’re one of the best employees here. We’re just making some adjustments to the team.”

“Okay,” I said uneasily.Adjustmentsdidn’t sound all that good. It sounded more like a chiropractor wrenching my neck and back.

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