Page 12 of Never Say Yes To Your Best Friend (I said Yes)

“Hello, good morning.” The gold nameplate at the top of her desk sparkles. The coffee bar to the left is immaculately clean, as are the square wood coffee table in the middle of the lobby and the four white couches arranged around it. “What can I help you find today?”

“I’m actually…erm…Mont. Mont Montfield.” I could tell from her three rapid blinks that she didn’t know who I was. She didn’t internet search the hell out of me ahead of time, so I can only figure that’s a good thing. No one here seems to be living in fear of new ownership and all the changes. There’s only so much smoothing things over that I could do remotely.

Marjorie covers up any discomfort with a smile. “Oh, it’s great to meet you, Mr. Montfield. We have your office set up for you just down the hall. Would you like me to show you where it is?”

“Yes, please. Thank you.”

“I heard you were coming in today. We all did. The whole place is just buzzing.” Marjorie is probably in her early forties with a shorter brunette bob threaded through with steely grey hairs that don’t want to cooperate as they spring up here and there along her part.

Her dazzling smile matches her sparkly pink top and the sparkly heels she’s paired it with. I’m a little surprised to seeshe’s wearing jeans, but business casual is good. Wearing a suit to work gets old, and who trusts a suit anymore anyway?

“I hope it’s a good buzz. I’d like it to be a good buzz.”

“Yes.” She waves a hand, dismissing my concern. “I baked chocolate chip cookies last night. I was just on my way to set them in the staff lunchroom. Would you like one?”

This woman is so kind and thoughtful. I have to say, I’m surprised and touched. “That would be great.”

She goes behind her desk, pops open a huge plastic container, and hands me one soft, delicious-looking cookie. It’s perfect from the gooey middle to the golden edges. I take a bite. “Wow! You should go into business for yourself.”

She just laughs before saying, “I’m more than happy here, but if I ever need a side hustle, I just might take your advice.”

Then, she goes straight into business mode, leading me back behind her desk, which opens to a hallway that no one can get to unless they go past her.

I would say the part of the building after the reception area ends hasn’t had an update since the nineties, but the cheap wood, brass door handles, outdated fixtures, and old tile floors don’t bother me. Everything is perfectly clean, and it’s clearly been cared for. None of the ceiling tiles have any marks on them. They’re all very sparkly white.

I open the office door as Marjorie heads back to the front. It wasn’t locked. I don’t even think there’s a way to lock it at all.

There’s an older cherry wood desk that wraps around in a U shape, cabinets in the back that attach to it, a bank of black filing cabinets to the right, and a whole bunch of empty space. The desk is entirely cleared off except for one immaculate stack of papers and a white envelope.

A card.

I pick it up, wondering about it, then slip my finger under the flap to open it. I feel like someone reached into my body with acattle probe and gave my chest a jolt when I see the red crab on the front of the card waving its happy little claws in the air. An illustrated one. Not a real crab.

Inside is the neatest handwriting I’ve ever seen. Does anyone under the age ofgrandmotheractually handwrite anymore?

Bergamont,

This is absurd. I can’t believe you’d do this. If you want to discuss this hostile takeover before I go to HR and file a formal complaint about workplace harassmentandharassment outside the workplace as well, then please meet me at the coffee shop next door. It’s the one with the giant rat head on the window. You can’t miss it. I’ll be waiting.

All day if that’s what it takes.

This is not okay. You can’t have this pudding. Pudding is my thing. Pudding is not your thing. Petty revengedoesseem to be, though, so before things go further, we need to get this sorted out.

Evilla (not pronounced Evil-anything)

Well then.

It certainly does seem that I’ve been told. Harassment? Is she serious? All I’ve done was buy a pudding company. Harassment? This, coming from a woman who impersonates someone else and has the audacity to utterly ruin a date for her own entertainment?

She might have been faking it, but she was asked. She was doing her friend a solid and protecting her like any good, loyal friend would do.

I wish I had someone to do that for me.

I do have people who would do that for me, I think. I have friends, and they’ve made it perfectly clear over the years that they can be counted on. Maybe not for fake dates, but then again, I wouldn’t ask anyone to stand in for me.

For the love of meaty crabs, I need to take a breath.

I need to pull the giant stick out of my arse and get a few things straight.

---