Page 6 of Keep Your Friends Close and Your… Work Enemy Closer?

"You know what that means, right?" If he was in publishing and didn't know the meaning of alliteration, it was going to be the end of me. Seriously. I was about to march into Veronica's office and ask her exactly what qualifications Jared had to be working here.

"Of course I do," he scoffed at me. "But I don't think Max Sterling has an alliteration problem. I'm sure there are plenty of companies under Echelon that don't have alliteration."

"He most definitely does have an alliteration problem," I argued. "Echelon Enterprises. Insight Ink," I said, counting off on my fingers. "Max Media. Empire Entertainment. Sterling Syndicate. Sunrise Stu—"

"Right. I get it," he said, cutting me off. "Well, I happen to like it."

"Oh, well, goodie. I'm sure Max Sterling would be happy to hear that the new guy Jared,who knows absolutely nothing about publishing, approves of his plan to take over the world with alliteration."

He looked at me, a wounded expression written all over his face, before bursting into laughter. "My deepest apologies," he finally said. "I guess I missed the memo where newbies aren't allowed to offer their opinions."

Oh, God. Was this really my life now? Dealing with this crap every single minute of every single day for as long as we both worked here?

"You're—"

Mona walked up right then and introduced herself to Jared, saying she wanted everyone to meet him, taking him off my hands for a long while as she walked him around the office and gave him a tour, along with proper introductions. It was something I should have done, or rather Veronica should have done. But she hadn't for some reason, and my annoyance with Jared had made me forget absolutely everything, like basic office training protocol.

I flicked a pink balloon that was part of my birthday décor while I thought about what work to give Jared. There was nothing, absolutely nothing, I trusted him with.

By the time he came back, though, I had placed a huge stack of unsolicited manuscripts on his desk, something he immediately noticed, giving me a quizzical look, brows raised above his glasses.

"What's all this?" he asked.

"My slush pile. Nowyourslush pile."

What I didn't say was I'd already gone through it, and these were the discards. So in other words, there was no chance that Jared could fuck it up.

"And I'd like a summary of each one... if you can handle it," I couldn't resist adding.

"If I can handle it? Please. How hard could it be?"

I smothered a smile at his words, knowing that going through the slush pile could be exhausting—hard on the eyes, mind-numbing, headache-inducing and could test even a saint's patience. And I'd given him the added job of writing a synopsis, which was the busiest busy work I could think of.

What I hadn't thought of? That Jared would be sitting next to me all the damn time. After enduring nearly an hour of pen clicking and chair whirling, I was about to murder someone.

"You know you can find someplace more comfortable to work," I said to him.

He turned to me, shoving his glasses up his nose. "What?"

"There's a really comfortable couch right over there." I pointed to the far wall next to the huge bookcase. "You can spread out, have a cup of coffee, enjoy a snack."

"Snack?"

"Yeah. Did anyone show you the snack stash? There's always amazing stuff in there. That's maybe the best part of working here."

He smiled. "Say less. Where is this magical snack stash?"

Seizing the chance to be alone with my thoughts for just a moment even, I pointed down the hallway. "In the breakroom. Right down there on the left."

And then I had a heavenly reprieve where I could actually hear myself think again. There were other people all around me in our open office, but they never bothered me the way Jared did in the short amount of time he'd been here. Of course, he was physically closer than anyone else.

But still, the whole thing made me rethink the open office trend, longing for my old place of work where I'd had a door I could shut.

Speak of the devil... Jared returned, arms loaded down with a shitload of food.

"Is there anything left in there for the rest of us?" I asked.

He spilled it all onto his desk. "What kind of pig do you think I am? Obviously, I left some. I just needed a lot because reading and snacking go together like... well, like..."

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