Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 72655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 72655 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 363(@200wpm)___ 291(@250wpm)___ 242(@300wpm)
“I don’t want anything. I’m perfectly happy.” Well, not perfectly happy, but close enough, I guess. “You should just tell your parents that you’re not going on the date because of the hives, and you’re not rescheduling. You want to live your own life, meet someone, fall in love, and get married for zero other reasons except that they’re the only one you can imagine spending the rest of your life with.”
“Oh god.” She covers her face with her hands. “God, these hives are itchy. I’m dying by not scratching them.”
“You could smack them a little. I think that works,” I tell her, and she opens her palm and smacks herself on the forehead. Hard. I grasp her hand and hold it tight between my own. “Not that way, and not that hard.”
“I’ll talk to Mike. I’ll make sure you get that promotion you want.”
Ugh. Double ugh. All the ugh. I’m not going there. This is my bestie here. There isn’t a single thing she doesn’t know about me, but I still wish I could get sucked into the hairy green hole of this mossy couch, never to return again. “You got me the job. You can’t ask Mike to give me the promotion, too. It would feel like favors. It would feel like…like I don’t deserve it.”
I’ve been working my butt off at Mike’s family pudding company for three years, ever since I was fresh out of college. Gen’s family knew their family, so she worked her magic, someone pulled strings, and I got a pretty good gig in the research and marketing department. Glamorous Pudding in Twenty-Seven Flavors is technically the company’s incorporated name, but every year, the tally goes up. Right now, the flavor count is at ninety-nine, and the hundredth one matters a lot. It does. It’s basically the centennial pudding flavor.
In three years, I’ve worked my way from a junior marketing position to near the top. Stephanie Abbergale retired last month, leaving one of the senior positions open. I might be young, and I might only have been with the company for three years, but I know I’m perfect for it.
I’ve never once called in sick. Ever.
And I haven’t taken any vacation time.
I’m not trying to brag, but the Deep Fried Dill Pickles, Bubble Gum & Cherry Milkshake Had a Baby, and Golden Brown Buttered Toast puddings were our bestsellers last year, and they were all flavors I proposed on my own.
Our head office is in a huge building downtown. There are factories all over the place that make the puddings, but we have a lab on the huge main floor that does all the new product development and testing. I got to play with the recipes for those puddings myself. I pitched the flavors and was a major player in the marketing of them, and I’d already done a huge portion of market research before I even brought those flavors to the table.
“I’m not saying you haven’t worked so freaking hard for it,” Gen corrects herself. “You have. That’s the point. I’m good friends with Mike. We went to high school together, and he likes me.” She flushes slightly and quickly looks away, pretending she isn’t getting pink-cheeked.
Internal alarms start blaring in my brain. Does she have a crush on Mike? I know he’s single. He’s also very involved in the business, practically married to it. Maybe Gen knows that. But maybe she likes him anyway. Maybe she’s scared of rejection, so she’ll never say anything, or maybe the timing just isn’t right. Whatever it is, I can see she doesn’t want to go down that road.
“That’s exactly why I don’t want you to do that. If I get the promotion, I want it to be just me, on my own terms. Does that make sense?”
“It does, but I’m scared HR will choose someone who basically sucks just because they’ve been there longer. That’s how it always works. If I talk to Mike, he’d make it happen. He knows you’re brilliant. We had lunch a few months ago with our parents, and he talked about pudding the whole time, but he couldn’t stop saying how brilliant you were and how many amazing things you’ve done for the company. He was so happy that I recommended you when you could have gone anywhere with all that kickassery.”
“Jesus. You didn’t tell me that.”
“I know. Because, look, you’re getting all embarrassed.”
“If he thinks that, then I’ll get the job. I’ve already applied. He knows I want it.”
“He might let HR talk him into giving it to someone else because of the seniority thing, or because they might think you’re too young, or blah, blah, blah. I know if I press on it, though, he’ll fight for you.”
“He should do that anyway if he believes I’m right for the job.”