Page 38 of Unbossly Manners

“Is Peyton in there?” Analise’s voice was high and tinny.

“I’m right here,” I spoke up.

“I need to speak to you immediately.”

My heart raced as I hurried to her workstation. Had I missed something on social media? Was this about Jackson? Had Prathi told her about us?

“What’s going on?” I asked.

“The private room you booked at Morton’s Steakhouse for our meeting with the people from the Let’s Talk About Sex with Lex podcast was canceled when we arrived last night. The restaurant had to cobble several tables together in the middle of the noisy restaurant. It was not ideal, to say the least.” Analise crossed her arms, waiting for an explanation.

My fingers swiped my phone, checking my task calendar. It had two green checks next to the reservation, which meant I’d confirmed the booking. I looked at my email and found the one confirming it from the manager at Morton’s. I showed it to Analise.

“Between that email and our arrival, the reservation was canceled and they gave it to the next party on the waitlist.”

Analise went to her desk and opened her email and pointed. It was from the host of the podcast telling her they needed more time to consider joining the Dreamary team.

“I don’t know what happened, but we may have lost the biggest relationship podcast of the year. Last week when I spoke to their producer, it was almost a done deal.”

“They pulled out just because they didn’t get a private room?” I asked.

“The car that was meant to meet them at the airport never showed up. And when they got to their hotel, the manager had no record of the reservation.”

I leaned against her desk, deflated. “What the fuck, Analise?”

“You’ve never been flaky. Is something going on?” she asked, crossing her arms. “Because it feels like you purposely sabotaged us.”

My head shot up. “I didn’t!”

A few people turned our way and I lowered my voice. “I confirmed everything. I double confirmed. I always do.”

Analise shook her head. “Then explain to me how this happened.”

I don’t know!

It felt like a personal attack. Not by Analise, but by the glitch that had made this happen. How the hell did all those things get canceled? Nothing like this had ever happened at work. I may not always be proactive at pitching ideas, but I was damn good at my job. You learn quickly how to be organized and prepared when you’ve interned on a tv production. Especially a soap opera that releases five shows a week.

“Will you give me some time to look into it?” I asked.

Analise frowned.

“In your spare time. Right now I need you to manage the accounts. I have to try and salvage this relationship. Shit like this could lose us the NOW media deal.”

fourteen

I took my laptop and sat in the break lounge. It was empty in the morning. Everyone was at their workstations, catching up on emails, their morning coffees in hand. I needed somewhere quiet to think about the bomb Analise had dropped.

How could three separate bookings be canceled?

Every employee had access to our company accounts. It wouldn’t be hard to cancel the car, restaurant, or hotel reservations. A simple call to the restaurant or hotel would do it. But you had to know the login details for the company’s Uber account, which meant it was most likely someone from our company who wanted to sabotage Analise, the Let’s Talk About Sex podcast, or me.

I didn’t know anyone that didn’t like Analise. Even if someone did have a beef with her, it was risky to do anything about it. She was Isaac’s sister; you mess with her, you get fired.

I rolled that around my head, wondering if I was on to something—screwing with Analise, to screw with Isaac—but it didn’t make sense. Why go through Analise to get to him?

I considered the Let’s Talk about Sex with Lex podcast. I knew very little about it, except that the host, Dr. Alexa Fairchild, was a little controversial. It could be a conservative enemy trying to wreak havoc on the show, but messing with reservations seemed basic and petty.

I sent an email to the manager of Morton’s asking her to call me. Next, I checked our Uber account. There it was. The car had been canceled yesterday morning, right as their plane landed. Anyone at Dreamary could’ve signed in. I called the hotel. They had a record of the cancelation but no information about who canceled it.

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