Twelve
On Monday, my own personal Dementor fog shrouds me. I dread facing Carlos after the way I accused him of cheating at foosball.
Dad chats me up as we drive, saying he’s proud of the way I’m “hanging in there” and of how I almost kicked Carlos’s butt at foosball, though he doesn’t phrase it quite like that. Vader is a mood reader.
“I noticed you took photos on Friday. May I see them?”
Suspicion pricks at me like thorns. “Maybe.”
“Laurel, don’t be stubborn. I’d like to see how they turned out.”
“It’s not like I’m a professional.”
He blows out an exasperated breath. “Come to my office. I have an idea.”
“Does this idea involve you embarrassing me in any way?”
“What? No.”
“Can we have lunch together today?” I ask. “I can run out and bring us back sandwiches if you’re too busy to go to a restaurant.”
Dad glances at me, brow furrowed. “Sorry, kiddo. I’m meeting with a client for lunch today.”
“How about tomorrow?”
“Not sure. My lunches are usually booked up far in advance.” He keeps his focus on the traffic.
I slump in my seat, as deflated as the tires on my old tricycle rusting in our shed.
“Maybe I’ll check with Ms. Romero. See if there’s room to squeeze me into your schedule.”
“She would know.”
Does he even want to spend time with me? I know he’s running the empire, but can’t he eke out twenty minutes to have a sandwich with me?
…
Dad checks out my photos while Ms. Romero stacks files on his desk. She does it every morning, with color-coded notes and instructions. I wish I had a Ms. Romero to organize my homework.
“Fantastic, Laurel.” Dad looks up from my camera, his grin wide and genuine. “I want you to show these to Brian and Jiang.” His enthusiasm takes away some of the sting of no lunch date.
“Really? Where do I find them?” I’m kind of excited. If the marketing people like my photos, maybe they’ll show up on Emergent’s social media, which would be cool.
“Second floor. Look for the life-sized King Kong cutout.”
“Later, Vader.”
“Later, Leibovitz.”
“I wish.” I can only dream of someday being as accomplished as the famous Annie Leibovitz.
On my way to meet with the social media crew, I swing by Miss Emmaline’s desk. Sighing heavily, she folds her hands on her desk, waiting.
“Morning, Miss Emmaline.” I take a sour apple Crazy Cowboy candy from the bowl on her counter. Crazy Cowboy is a local Colorado company and one of Dad’s clients, so those little candies are everywhere in our office. More fuel for Dad’s sweet tooth.
“Why couldn’t the toilet paper cross the road?” I unwrap the candy and pop it in my mouth, sour apple flooding my taste buds.
She grimaces and doesn’t respond.
“It got stuck in the crack.”
Her lips pucker like she’s sucking on the same candy as me. I should’ve known she wasn’t a butt joke aficionado.
“Have a great day, Miss Emmaline.” I spin around and head for the steel staircase.
The second floor buzzes with energy and laughter. I spot the King Kong cutout right away. Colorful Hawaiian leis dangle from its neck and a Barbie doll is taped to Kong’s clenched fist.
Brian glances up from his cubicle, which is full of toys and I mean, full. Nerf guns, a Velcro dart board, a miniature corn hole set. And a Lego Millennium Falcon. My eyes roam the ship. I have a few completed Star Wars Lego kits in my bedroom, but that’s top-secret information.
“Hey, Laurel. You here to hang with the cool kids?” Brian grins and tosses a hacky sack in the air, catches it, then tosses it up again. I watch him the same way Lexi’s dog watches anyone with a tennis ball.
Jiang rounds the corner and stops when she sees us. “Hi. You’re Mr. K’s daughter, right? I’m Jiang.” She holds out her hand and I shake it. She’s dressed in a trendy outfit that makes me feel like a gawky twelve-year-old.
“What’s up, Laurel?” Brian plops the hacky sack on his desk.
“I, um.” I tug at my blouse. Brian’s a decent guy; this should be easy. “My dad suggested I show you some of the photos I took on Friday. To see if you might want to use them on social media.”
He shoots Jiang a cryptic glance and I flush. Maybe I shouldn’t have mentioned my dad. Now they’ll pretend to like my photos even if they don’t. Crud.
“Let’s see them.” An encouraging smile lights up Jiang’s face. “I noticed you with your camera on Friday. Have you been into photography for a while?”
“About a year or so.” I hand over my camera, biting the inside of my lip. I need to relax. This isn’t a big deal. If they don’t like—
“Whoa. Check this out, Bri.” Jiang hands my camera to Brian, then glances at me with new respect.
Brian grabs eyeglasses from his desk, puts them on, and studies my camera’s viewer. He grins, then cycles through the photos as I wait, holding my breath. Finally he looks up, removing his glasses.
“Awesome. Candids are hard to pull off, but you’ve got a knack for it.” He hands my camera to Jiang. “Let’s use the one of Mr. K laughing with Mr. Mantoni, and the one of you battling the intern kid. Carlos, right?” He glances at me for confirmation and I nod. “And the one where people are fighting over the last slice of pizza. That’s golden.”
That picture is one of my favorites. The lighting was just right, making the pizza warriors look like they’re lit by a spotlight against the brick rooftop wall. The photo of Jiang and Carlos is also a favorite; they both look so fierce and focused, and the contrast of Jiang’s yellow sundress and Carlos in his black T-shirt works well.
I may have cropped the photo so I could enjoy a close-up of Carlos’s face for later viewing. Like, way too many viewings.
Grinning, Brian reaches out to fist-bump me. Jiang gives me a thumbs-up. I wonder if I can convince my dad and Mr. Mantoni that this department is where I need to be, not spying on interns.
Jiang disappears with my memory card to make copies of the photos.
“You do Instagram?” asks Brian.
I hesitate. “Yeah.”
“And?” He cocks an eyebrow and I shrug, embarrassed, but I know what he wants.
“Nikonik.” I spell it out as he writes on a scratch pad. I’d wanted Nikonic, but someone beat me to it, plus it’s a hashtag used by photographers.
“Clever.” He nods approvingly.
Jiang reappears with my memory card. “I copied all of them; hope you don’t mind.” She glances at Brian. “What do you think about giving her access to our Twitter?” She studies me, her gaze assessing. “I assume you’re good at phone photos, too.”
I nod, surprised by how well this is going. I hope it’s not special treatment because of my dad.
Brian hesitates. “I don’t know.” His eyes are full of apology as he turns to me. “It’s not that I don’t trust you, and you’ve clearly got skills, but we have to be careful about who we give access to. If anything…off…was tweeted, it’d be a disaster. We’re role models for a lot of our clients, you know? We direct them to our social media as an example when they screw up—” He clears his throat. “I mean, when they need pointers.”
I understand his reluctance. I wouldn’t want to give a teenager access to my Twitter if I were in his shoes. Even if said teenager was the daughter of the president of the company.
“It’s fine,” I say quickly.
Jiang smooths her silky dark hair. “Maybe you could do some stealth photography for us.”
“Stealth photography?” Goose bumps rise on my arms. I’m already supposed to be reporting rule violations to the Manicotti, now Jiang’s asking me to sneak photos of people?
She must sense my anxiety because she pats my arm. “Nothing creepy or weird, I promise.”
“Not creepy,” Brian agrees, then retrieves a huge battery-powered Nerf gun from underneath his desk
“We’re planning a surprise for your dad,” Jiang whispers. “Just a few people are in on it, for now. We’ll tell more people when we get closer.”
“Closer to what?” I keep my voice soft like hers.
“To Emergent’s anniversary. Fifteen years this August.” She glances at Brian, who squints at his gun, checking its ammo status.
“We’re making a mini movie and planning a surprise party,” Jiang says. “I’ve found a ton of older photos, but we need photos of the current staff.” Jiang tilts her head to study me. “Candids like the ones you took on the rooftop. Those are perfect.”
“That sounds great.” And it does, except I’m not sure how I’ll pull off slinking around the office and snapping photos without drawing people’s attention. “But I—”
Brian raises his Nerf blaster and fires off a round of foam ammo. A startled yelp sounds behind me. I whirl to see Lewis, the big guy I beat at foosball, staring down at a pile of orange foam bullets on the floor. His buddy Cruz pokes his head out from his cube and glares as he assesses the situation.
“Son of a—” Lewis begins, then stops when he sees me. He looks like he wants to do bodily harm to Brian, who’s snort-laughing in his chair, his gun propped on his thigh like a cocky Bruce Willis.
Yeah, I definitely need to transfer to this department.
“Yo, Lewis,” Brian says. “Bring me a donut, would ya? I know you’re headed to the kitchen to stuff your face.”
Lewis’s cheeks puff out like a blowfish and I wonder if Brian will pay for his sneak attack later. Then something Brian said tugs at the edges of my memory as Lewis storms off.
Donut.
Oh no. I was supposed to bring donuts to Carlos since I lost the foosball game. He’d said he was kidding about the wager, but as I recall the hurt expression on his face when I accused him of cheating, I know I have to pay up.
“I’m sorry, but I have to go. Maybe we can meet later?”
Jiang nods. “How about lunch today?”
“Uh, sure.” I might as well, since my dad’s too busy and the interns never invite me. A bubble of apprehension pops in my stomach. Is she hoping I’ll tell Dad how nice she is? I grit my teeth. I’ve got to stop questioning everyone’s motives or I’ll go insane.
Brian slides his Nerf weapon under his desk and grins, still gloating over his sneak attack.
“Meet us back here at noon.” Jiang points to Brian. “You’re buying.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Me? Why me?”
As their conversation devolves into friendly bickering, I rush off, hoping I can pull off an express donut run.
…
I rush up the last flight of stairs to the third floor office, breathing heavily because I ran all the way. Unfortunately for me, it’s five after nine and the interns are already gathered around the meeting table. With the Manicotti.
At my less-than-graceful entrance, everyone turns to stare. A blush burns a path from my neck to my cheeks. I approach the table warily, pastry bag in my hand.
“Laurel, what’s rule number two?” demands Mr. Mantoni as I sink into the only open chair, between Trish and Elijah. I shove my messenger bag under my chair and set the pastry bag on the table.
“Don’t be late.” I brush loose strands of hair behind my ears and refuse to let my gaze stray to Carlos, who sits on the other side of Elijah.
“And why are you late? I know your father’s been here for at least an hour.”
My blush spreads all over my body and I feel like a child being called out by a snarky teacher.
“I needed to pay up on a bet.”
Mr. Mantoni’s beady eyes squint skeptically. I don’t dare look at Carlos.
“Donuts.” I slide the bag toward Carlos, but Elijah snatches it off the table and peers inside.
“There’s two in here, dude.” Elijah clutches the bag to his chest. “You gotta share.”
“You didn’t need to do that,” Carlos says to me when I make eye contact. “I told you the bet was just a joke.”
“Excellent.” Elijah grins. “They’re mine, then.” He opens the bag wider, but Carlos’s hand jets out, snatching the bag before Elijah can dig in.
“Tomorrow, be on time, understood?” Mr. Mantoni stands up, clearly annoyed with my disruption, then storms off.
Carlos takes a bite of donut and my stomach does a happy twirl. I’d been half afraid he’d toss them in the trash. Still chewing, he lifts his chin in what I hope is a gesture of thanks.
Elijah leans over to whisper in Carlos’s ear. Carlos glances at me, glares at Elijah, then takes another bite of donut.
“Put your tongue back in your mouth,” Trish mutters. I must look stunned, because she flicks a hand in exasperation. “I only speak the truth.” Now her expression wavers between teasing and intimidating.
Embarrassed, I check to make sure Carlos and Elijah aren’t listening. Fortunately, they’re arguing over the last donut.
“You’re the one with tongue issues,” I mumble, then I tense, waiting for her attack. Instead, she laughs.
“Yeah, well.” Her black-lined lips curve into a knowing grin. “I’ve had lots of practice. I’m guessing you haven’t.”
Jason has joined the guys in the donut argument, so Ashley scoots her chair closer to Trish and me, her blue eyes sparkling with interest. “Are we talking tongue action? Cuz I’ve got tips if you girls need them.”
Omigod.
“I hate it when guys go there right away,” Ashley whispers conspiratorially. “Like, give me time to assess your dental hygiene situation first, right?”
Trish barks out a laugh and the guys pause their jabbering to glance at us.
“We’re all fine here.” I lock eyes with Elijah, who grins in appreciation of my Star Wars quote, then grabs for Carlos’s bag again. Carlos deflects his move and waves the bag above his head.
“They’re such dorks,” Ashley says. “But they’re cute.”
“Eh, I’ve seen better.” Trish shrugs.
Ashley twirls a strand of hair around her finger. “If I didn’t have a boyfriend in college I might have to make a move.” She glances at Trish. “After hours, of course. Rule number eight.”
Trish scowls and I wince sympathetically.
“I’m kidding,” Ashley says. “I understand why your dad made the rule.” Her gaze shifts to me. “Which guy would you pick? If you could.”
I can’t tell if that’s an insult or not. She’s still beaming at me, so I give her the benefit of the doubt since this is the nicest she’s ever been to me. I keep my eyes on the girls instead of the guys, but it doesn’t work—my cheeks still heat, betraying me.
“Ah ha!” Ashley bounces in her chair. “I knew it.” She turns to Trish. “How about you?”
Trish leans her head back, eyes rolling to the back of her head. “Not interested.”
Ashley shrugs and aims her curiosity at me again. “So come on, Laurel. Which guy is making you blush?”
Silence washes over us, and I’m painfully aware the donut argument has ceased and all eyes are on me. Good God. How much did the guys overhear? I pull my messenger bag out from under my chair, keeping my gaze lowered.
“We should work on our Death Star presentation.” My voice is shaking and so are my hands as I open my Hello Kitty notebook. I’d decided to stick with her, no matter how unprofessional.
“I thought each of you could prepare slides on your idea, then I’ll pull them all together into one presentation.” I point at Trish. “Comic Con for you.” I nod at Ashley. “Sharper Image catalog.” I clear my throat. “I’ll do one on The Big Bang Theory and Elijah—”
“Podcast. I’m on it.” Elijah swipes the empty bag from Carlos and tilts it up, dumping the crumbs into his mouth. Carlos shakes his head at Elijah, then glances at me, a hint of a flush creeping up his neck. Is that good or bad?
“What about me?” Jason looks at me hopefully, and I chew the inside of my lip. I don’t want to hurt his feelings. I’ve spent considerable time contemplating what task he could handle, given his limited appreciation of nerd-dom.
“We need some iconic shots from Star Wars movies. Grab some off the internet. But the original trilogy only. No Jar Jar Binks or Padmé.”
Elijah nods approvingly and we exchange inside joke smiles.
Jason’s floppy blond hair falls into his eyes. “Iconic? You mean like, uh, Dark Vader and—”
Elijah gasps, clutching his chest. “Did you say Dark Vader?” He stares at Jason in mock horror, then shakes his head. “Dude, are you for real?”
A hint of a blush tinges Jason’s cheeks, and I’m surprised by my desire to defend him. Apparently six years of hardcore crushing don’t disappear overnight without leaving a shadow of…something.
“Hey, Elijah. Come on. Not everybody’s a certified geek like us.”
“Special K, you’re killing me here.” Elijah continues clutching his chest like he’s dying. “Let’s give that task to our man Carlos. He might not be a nerd, but I think we can trust he knows who Darth Vader is.”
Silence settles over our table as I struggle for words to defuse the situation.
“I think Jason should do it,” Carlos says, breaking the silence. “I’m guessing Laurel has another job for me, right?”
Just like in a cheesy movie, our gazes meet across the table. But unlike in a cheesy romance movie, his eyes don’t light up with affection. Instead, they darken, and his eyebrows meet in a slash over his nose.
Here goes nothing.
“I do have a job for you. Presenter. Once the slides are put together, you should be the emcee or whatever.”
Carlos’s eyes darken even more, and his chin juts out. “Why me?”
“Yeah,” Trish snaps, “why him?”
I swallow and try to remain calm, keeping my attention on Carlos. “Because you organized us. You ran the meetings. You’re the project leader so you should present.”
“True,” agrees Elijah. He points at Jason. “Run all your Star Wars photos by Special K or me first, okay?”
Jason shrugs, embarrassment oozing off of him like a rain cloud. “Since when is Carlos the leader? It’s not like we voted on that. He just took over.”
Carlos huffs out a frustrated breath and stands abruptly, crumpling the empty donut bag. “Somebody had to, so I did. I don’t care about the presentation. Go ahead and do it if you want.”
“I’m wondering why a woman wasn’t suggested as presenter.” Trish surveys me through narrowed eyes.
“Maybe Laurel had other reasons for picking Carlos,” Ashley says suggestively. She waggles her eyebrows between us.
This can’t be happening. All I’d meant to do was reward Carlos because he took over the project so smoothly. Yeah, maybe I have a thing for him, but that didn’t influence my decision. Did it?
“If you’re all gonna waste time arguing, I’ll be the presenter,” Elijah says. “I’ll make everyone look good.”
“But I’m an actor,” Jason argues. “I have more experience than—”
“Stop!” someone yelps and everyone freezes, and I realize that I’m the yelper. I panic, grasping for words, but I’m coming up empty.
Carlos backs away from the table. “I’m taking a break.” He’s scowling, and I wonder if Ashley’s innuendo embarrassed him, or if he thinks I’m crazy, or if he thinks I gave him donuts because I’m a dork with a crush.
Maybe all of the above.
Everyone else scatters, while I stay at the table, gazing at the mountains, wondering how I managed to mess everything up. I’m dimly aware of the finance employees in the other corner watching me, but I try to block them out.
I feel terrible. I didn’t mean to upset anyone or cause drama. The last thing I want to do is ruin the internship, but I have no idea how to fix this.
…
Lunch with Jiang and Brian cheers me up somewhat. They make me laugh and include me like I’m one of them. We discuss my dad’s upcoming surprise party and I make a mental note to let Mom know about it so she can attend.
“We should do something for Miss Emmaline, too. It will be her fifteen-year anniversary with Emergent,” I suggest.
“Great idea,” says Jiang. “I found some fun old pictures of her and your dad when they worked out of a tiny two-person office together.”
“She’s like the office grandma,” Brian slurs around a bite of sandwich.
“More like a wolf in grandma’s clothing.” I sip from my iced tea, glancing out the window at the busy street crowded with office workers enjoying their lunch break. I wonder where the interns went, then tell myself I don’t care.
“She’s not so bad,” Brian says, eyeing me curiously.
I shouldn’t say anything negative about Emergent employees. Dad wouldn’t like it, and it makes me look a spoiled daddy’s girl, the last thing I want.
When the bill arrives, Brian glances at Jiang. “You still think I’m buying?”
She grins and raises her glass toward him in a “cheers” gesture. He sighs and shakes his head, but a smile plays at his lips.
“Well, since I’m going to be promoted as your boss any day now, I guess it’s the least I can do.”
Jiang’s grin fades as Brian pulls his wallet from his pants pocket.
I clear my throat. “I can pay for my lunch.”
Brian shakes his head. “No way am I letting Mr. K’s daughter buy her own lunch.”
Whether I want to or not, I’m getting “Special K” treatment.
“Thanks.” I force a smile, but just once I’d like everyone to forget who my dad is.
As we walk back to the office, Jiang says she’ll email everyone that I’m taking photos for a “school project,” and to ignore me if they see me snapping photos.
“Hopefully you’ll become invisible and can get some good candids.”
“No problem there. I excel at invisibility.”
When we enter the office lobby we encounter the interns, who’ve returned at the same time.
“Yo, foosball champ!” Brian calls out. Carlos turns, a surprised look on his face when he sees us. His gaze darts to me, then back to Brian.
“Hey.” He steps away from the group. The other interns swarm toward the elevator, buzzing like bees.
“You put your foosball trophy on display?” Brian slugs him playfully on the shoulder. “I bet you’re one of those guys with a whole shelf of trophies. You look like a jock.”
Ugh. I’m cringing right along with Carlos, who’s contemplating the airspace above Brian’s head. I wouldn’t say he looks like a stereotypical jock, but he’s definitely…fit.
“I could’ve taken you,” Jiang teases, “but I’m out of practice.”
Carlos smiles at her and it’s like the sun appearing from behind a dark cloud.
“We’ve got a one o’clock meeting.” Brian sucks the last bit of soda from his straw, then crumples the to-go cup.
“Thanks for lunch. It was fun.” I smile at Brian and Jiang, expecting Carlos to leave, but he doesn’t.
“You bet. We’ll do it again sometime.” Brian shoots me a cocky grin.
“Good luck on your school project.” Jiang winks as she exaggerates the last two words, then she and Brian cross the lobby together.
I stay put, hopeful that Carlos and I will head upstairs together, but he turns abruptly and leaves me standing alone. My heart heavy, I glance at Miss Emmaline, whose sharp eyes have missed nothing.
I trudge up the stairs, wondering if I should quit this job before I make things any worse.