Page 19 of A Daddy for Christmas 3: Nova
“It just felt like a waste to me when I first started thinking about it,” I replied. “Like, do people even do that, have two phones? No one I know has two phones, but then, they’re all as glued to their work as I am. Then there’s the oops factor. Like, what if I’m in a hurry to catch the train to work in the morning and grab the wrong phone? Talk about a screwed-up day.”
“Somehow, I doubt the world would fall apart if you brought the wrong phone to work, unless you accidentally plugged it in to a projector and instead of a presentation, treated your colleagues to a batch of racy photos.”
“Oh my god, that would be mortifying,” I replied. “Not that I have ever taken racy photos, but the thought of what they would look like on a presentation screen puts them firmly in the no, nope, never zone.”
He chuckled and glanced over at me, the sun making his eyes sparkle more than ever. “I’ve never taken any either, even in my less discerning days. There was always the fear of them landing on the internet, and once that happened, there would be no end to them, especially if someone decided to have a bit of fun in Photoshop.”
“Oh man, I never thought about that.”
“I dated a graphic designer for a few months,” Robbie explained. “Seeing what he could do with images and layers was low-key terrifying. Let’s just say that I did my best to stay off his bad side even after we broke up.”
“I would too.”
Ping.
My toes dug into the sand as my body went rigid, the sound sending another rush of tension up my back, adding to the ache in my shoulder and the side of my head where a headache was forming. There was no chance of it being anything other than work-related. I had distinct ringtones for my small circle of friends and one ringtone that chimed whenever I received a text from anyone in my family, which was rare. They’d never been the touch-base type, so unless someone had news to share or a request to get together, we typically steered clear of each other’s inboxes.
Ping. Ping. Ping.
“Oh my fucking god!” I snapped as I yanked the phone from the back pocket of my jean shorts and pressed my thumb against the fingerprint sensor.
The first message that caught my eye was from my boss, and it was a scathing one.
I assumed, when I signed off on your vacation, that you would ensure that Pete had everything he needed to fulfill your duties in your absence and that you would clarify any questions that might arise. It is extremely disappointing to have it brought to my attention that you have failed to read or respond to any of the messages he’s sent you about the Thompson account or the Charmed Life launch. If you can’t straighten this out for him before close of business tomorrow, don’t expect to still be running the division upon your return.
Cold fury gripped me in its clutches, expletives flowing fast and furious through my mind, spilling through my fingers asI typed a scathing message detailing Pete’s uselessness, only to erase it before hitting send. Blowing out a long breath, I scrubbed a hand over my face before I gave in to the temptation to tell my boss to go straight to hell.
Everything he needs is in the detailed memos I left for him. If he is incapable of following simple, basic instructions, then he can hand them off to Jamie to deal with.
There, that's the message I sent.
“Everything okay?” Robbie asked, worry lines etched into the corners of his eyes when I finally looked up at him.
“No,” I snapped, unintentionally being rude and hating that it was the response the message brought out of me.
As I scrolled up, I saw a mix of messages from Pete and Jason that consisted of Pete asking for clarification on things that were spelled out so plainly in my memos that even an intern should have been able to follow them. I should know; they were the same kind of notes that had been left for me many times over the course of my internship.
Ping.
Is there a reason you couldn’t respond and tell him that?
Growling profanity under my breath I quickly typed out:
Because I already did that the day I got here. It’s not my fault that you assigned someone to the division who is completely incompetent and not up to even the simplest and most basic tasks he’s been given. I’m not going to hold his hand through every step. If he doesn’t possess basic reading and comprehension skills, then what is he doing being employed by the company in the first place?
Yes, I hit send before I had a chance to change my mind. Because they were ruining my vacation with annoying, unnecessary fucking texts.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered, looking up to see that Robbie hadn’t moved; he still stood there staring at me with a concerned lookon his face. “My boss is seriously pissing me off right now. I don’t appreciate someone treating me like I’m creating a problem by not responding to someone who has all the information they need to get their job done. He’s the one who insisted on hiring his cousin, who is not qualified for the position he’s in. I refuse to handhold someone who doesn’t deserve to be working there if they can’t follow the same basic instructions an intern can.”
“Ouch,” Robbie muttered at the same time as my phone pinged again.
When I glanced down at the device in my hand, my boss's words stood out bright against the dark screen.
I will not allow you to make Pete the scapegoat if these accounts aren’t handled correctly. You are in charge of the division, which means any delays or discrepancies reflect directly back on you. I suggest you find a way to solve the issues in a satisfactory manner so that everything goes off without a hitch tomorrow.
“Oh, you son of a…,” snarling, I hurled the phone as far as I could.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t far enough to land with a plop in the water or even far enough to land in the soggy surf. Even the poof of sand it sent in the air wasn’t satisfying. I had half a mind to storm over there and bury the damned thing.