Grayson: Had to run down to Malibu for a meeting. I might stay overnight depending on how late it runs.
Cammie: Ok. Good luck.
Grayson: Wish you were coming with me.
I didn’t text back. I wanted to tell him about the voicemail, but then I’d have to admit that I’d broken into his office, and then I’d also have to tell him about my submission for the competition. My chest tightened just thinking about the mountain of lies building between us. I hadn’t thought ahead enough to realize how far this one decision would throw my life off course.
Instead of deciding on a plan of action, I threw myself into work. Peter stayed late with me and we ordered in food from the deli down the street. The office was quiet and I ignored my buzzing phone. I’d sleep on it and wake up with a clear plan. I always did.
…
My plan didn’t work.
The next morning, it still felt like I was in the eye of a tornado. By breaking into Grayson’s office and by submitting my own design work, I’d set events into motion that I was helpless to stop. I hadn’t considered it before, but the design committee would definitely be sending some kind of confirmation once they received our submissions; who they would contact, I hadn’t a clue. I checked my email obsessively, hoping they would use the personal email address I’d provided for them, but on Wednesday morning, I still hadn’t received a single thing.
I sat at my desk, refreshing my email over and over again, praying that I’d eventually find an email from the design committee. Nothing. In the proposal packet, they said they’d contact us no later than Wednesday to confirm receipt of our packets.
I was royally screwed.
I stayed at my desk as people started to trickle into the office, dread gnawing at my stomach. I had five text messages and three phone calls waiting on my cell phone. They were all from Grayson, and I refused to check a single one until I knew what I wanted to do about us.
At 8:00 am, Grayson strolled into the office with a piercing gaze aimed right for me. I tried to ignore his approach by focusing on my work, but he completely read through my act.
“Let’s go,” he said, pulling my chair back so that I was forced to stand or fall to the ground.
“Stop,” I hissed, aware of everyone’s eyes on us.
“No. Let’s go. You’re talking to me. I’ve had enough of the silent treatment.”
His voice warned me that he was not to be tested, but I wanted to test him anyway. How dare he boss me around after what I’d heard on his answering machine? I had every right to demand answers right then and there, to call him out for being an overbearing stalker, but we were interrupted a moment too soon.
“Just the two people I need to talk to,” Alan spat from behind me with more venom than I’d ever heard before.
Grayson’s blue eyes cut from me up to Alan, warning him away. “I’m busy right now, Alan.”
Alan shook his head. “Not too busy for this,” he said, slapping a piece of paper onto my desk. The font was too small for me to make out, but I knew it was an email. Just before Grayson snatched it up, I caught the committee’s email address at the top of the page.
“Grayson let me explain—” I began, before getting cut off.
“What’s going on?” Peter asked as he arrived at his desk, unaware of the hornet’s nest he’d just walked into. Behind him, wearing a small smirk, Hannah stood watching the scene play out. Clearly, she wanted to be privy to the show as well.
I was about to tell her off when she held up a green post-it note. The note that had been missing from my desk a few days earlier. My eyes widened and she smirked, folding the note up and slipping into her pocket.
She’d sneaked into my room and stolen Grayson’s address? That also meant she knew all about my design proposal. Perfect. My worst enemy, aka roommate, had my life in the palm of her hands.
“What is going on, Alan? What does this mean?” Grayson snapped, drawing my attention back to the piece of paper in his hand.
Alan punched my desk with his fist, making me jump. “I'll tell you what it means. Graduate Barbie here wanted to siphon some fame, so she submitted her own fucking design in the name of Cole Designs.”
I stared between the two of them, watching my world crumble. I knew what was in that email; I knew I was about to have to own up to my actions, but I had no words.
Grayson rubbed his hand across his chin, staring me down with confusion, then fury when I failed to contradict Alan's accusation. Out of the corner of my eyes, I watched other coworkers stepping closer, hoping to catch a glimpse of the action.
“Is this true, Cammie?” Grayson asked, shaking the piece of paper in the air.
I mashed my lips together and stayed silent.
Alan pointed to the email. “That is an email from the competition’s design committee stating that our firm has forfeited our spot in the Urban Park Design Proposal. Each firm is allowed to submit one submission, and yet somehow they received TWO from Cole Designs. What the hell were you thinking? Do you understand what you just lost for the company? That bid was worth millions of dollars, not to mention the fact that our firm’s name would have been printed in every architectural magazine in the country when the design proposals were announced.”
Grayson held up his hand to silence Alan’s rant.
“Did you submit your own design, Cammie?” he asked, wearing a sad, yet hopeful look in his eyes. He wanted me to say no so badly, but I couldn’t.
“Yes,” I admitted, feeling a weight leave my shoulders as a heavy wave simultaneously crashed down over me. “I did.”
Grayson crumpled the paper in his fist and squeezed his eyes closed for a moment. When he opened them again, there was only disappointment staring back at me.
“Why?”
I pointed to Alan. “Because he wouldn’t listen to my ideas and I knew I had something better. His designs were shit, and everyone was too scared to speak up. So I submitted a design on my own.”
Grayson threw the crumpled email across the room.
“Stupid girl,” Alan spat.
Grayson shot him a warning glance. “Alan, that’s enough. Let’s go into my office and get the design committee on the phone.”
They turned and walked away from me without a second glance. Grayson didn’t so much as look back at me and I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to follow them or not, so I stood frozen, watching them disappear behind Grayson’s door.
“Guess having a little affair with your boss isn’t enough to get you out of this, is it, Cammie?” Hannah asked, loudly enough that in the quiet office at least a dozen coworkers overheard her.
“Shut up, Hannah,” I said, grabbing my purse and pushing past her to head toward the stairwell.
“Guess you would have been better off sleeping with Alan instead,” she called out after me. "Or maybe the whole design committee!"
I didn’t bother turning around but I heard Peter’s voice behind me.
“Don’t you have work to do, Hannah? Why are you even over here?” he asked.
I’m sure she replied with something terribly catty, but I was too busy pushing through the side door into the stairwell to hear. The quiet wrapped around me and I stood with my back against the concrete wall as the last ten minutes began to sink in. Not only had I gone behind Grayson’s back, I had also disqualified the entire company from the competition. Not to mention, Hannah had just all but convinced everyone that Grayson and I were having a secret affair.
I’d started my day as just another nameless rookie architect. Now, I was Cammie, the girl who sleeps around to get ahead and is stupid enough to jeopardize the company’s reputation on a caprice. I was standing there, berating myself, when the door to the stairwell opened and I braced myself for Grayson. Instead, a pair of stiletto heels hit the concrete and I looked up to see Serenity stepping out of the office to join me on the stairwell landing.
“I thought I saw you come out here,” she said, pulling a pack of cigarettes out of her small de
signer clutch. “Wanna smoke?”
I shook my head and then watched her shrug and light a cigarette for herself.
“I usually come out here to take a break, but lately you and Grayson have been stealing my spot,” she said, staring at me out of the corner of her eye.
I swallowed. She’d known about Grayson and me all along, but never said anything.
Why?
“Are you allowed to smoke in the building?” I asked, to change the subject and to confirm my suspicions.
She pointed up to the wall, where the smoke detector should have been. Instead, there was a small circle of concrete that was lighter than the rest of the wall. She’d removed the smoke detector off the wall.
“Trust me, this building is in much less danger when I've had a few cigarettes,” she said, taking a long drag.
I didn't really see her logic, but I wasn’t exactly in a place to make anymore enemies.
“That was a foolish thing you did, huh?” she said, trying to meet my eye.
I rolled my eyes and crossed my arms tighter. The last thing I needed was a lecture from Miss Interior Design 2015.
“Do you realize how many asshole men there are in this business?” she asked.
I laughed, caught off guard by her candidness.
“Before I became the head of interiors, I worked for a crotchety old man named Mr. Winters. I knew that I had a better eye for design than he did, but I also knew that one day he’d step down and I’d get the final say in the department. I worked for him for four long years and I dreamed of doing what you did too many times to count, but I knew that it would get me nowhere.”
I huffed, annoyed. “Where were you a few days ago?”
She laughed and took another drag of her cigarette, blowing the smoke away from me, down the stairwell.
“Was your design better than Alan’s?” she asked.
The edge of my mouth hitched up. “A thousand times better. He's so out of touch with the original vision for the project.”
She nodded and crossed an arm over her chest to prop up her elbow.
“Then when they fire you, you’ll have no problem finding another job,” she said, staring me straight in the eye. “But I wouldn’t put Alan down as a reference.”
With that, she bent to stub out her cigarette on the concrete and glided back into the office, leaving me with a whole new bomb to try to diffuse.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
I let myself stay in the stairwell until I was sure that everyone had gone back to their desks, bored with the drama. I knew I’d be the focal point of everyone’s attention as soon as I showed my face, but I figured that at least a few people would pretend to be busy with their own work.
When I opened the door, I was pleasantly surprised to find that the office was all but deserted. I didn’t see anyone, but then I heard the faint sound of voices coming from the conference room. I took another step and peered around the corner to see most of the Cole Designs staff packed into the conference room like sardines. I took a deep breath and moved to join them, when I heard my name.
“Cammie?” a voice called from behind me.
I turned to see a woman I faintly recognized as one of the company’s HR representatives standing outside of Grayson’s office door. Alan stood beside her with a scowl.
“Could we speak with you, please?” the woman asked, offering me a gentle smile.
I nodded and turned to join them before I noticed the small white binder clutched against her chest. “Cole Designs HR Protocol” was written across the front in thick letters.
Serenity was right. They’re going to fire me.
When I approached the doorway to Grayson’s office, Alan stepped aside to let me pass. It took all of my strength to stay silent as he glared down at me. I might have been in the wrong, but he deserved to be put in his place just as much as I did.
Grayson looked up from his desk when I entered, an indistinguishable expression on his face. Had we been alone, I would have hoped for some kind of greeting, but the HR woman and Alan followed me into the office and shut the door behind them. There was no hope for any privacy.
“Cammie.” Grayson nodded. “Have a seat.”
“Or stay standing, this shouldn’t take long,” Alan added with a sharp tongue.
Grayson glared up at him. “That’s your final warning, Alan. I’ve had enough today.”
Alan straightened his tie and cleared his throat, clearly embarrassed. The HR woman sat down in the chair beside me and flipped open her binder.
“So, Cammie, I’m Monica, and I’m here to supervise this meeting. As I’m sure you suspect, your actions concerning the design competition cannot be overlooked by the company—”
“Monica,” Grayson interrupted, “If you don’t mind, I’d like to do most of the talking. I understand that you have to be here, but Cammie should hear this from me.”
I clutched my hands on top of my lap and stared down at my chipped nail polish as Grayson continued to speak. I tried to absorb most of it, but really only got bits and pieces while I tried to keep my tears at bay:
“...your actions were careless...”,
“...jeopardized your coworkers' jobs...”,
“...stolen company property...”,
"...endangered the reputation...".
As I listened, I tried to pretend that I was hearing the speech from someone else’s lips. I knew that Grayson was firing me. I knew that it was the only choice he had, but when he told me to gather my things and exit the building, I felt like a hot blade had pierced my chest.
I loved him and he was letting me go.
I loved him and yet I’d still betrayed him.
“You’ve left me no choice, Cammie.” Grayson's eyes pleaded with me to understand.
I nodded and stood to head for the door before realizing that I should tell him the truth. I gripped the back of the chair I’d just vacated and met Grayson’s eyes for the first time since entering his office. I could have fallen so easily into his warm, trusting gaze, but I knew that couldn’t happen anymore.
“Yes, I submitted a design behind your back and yes, I snuck a few pages of letterhead. I shouldn’t have done it, and I realize that. The last thing I wanted to do was go behind your back, but I felt like I had no choice. I know that it was irrational, but I don’t regret submitting my own design. I would have never forgiven myself if I’d let the Alans of the world walk all over me. If this is truly a meritocracy, just look at the two designs.”
His frown deepened.
“Thank you for giving me this opportunity and I’m truly sorry for causing you to lose faith in me.”
I was sure there were still things for us to work out, some kind of paperwork to sign before I left, but I turned toward the door and walked out of Grayson’s office. They could mail me my final check. They could send me any exit paperwork. I’d be in another country soon enough, so what did it matter?
…
I took the long way home that afternoon. The sun was beating down overhead as I strolled down various LA streets, but I wasn’t in a hurry to escape it. To go home meant that I had to decide what my next move would be. I’d wanted to travel, to leave for Paris and never look back, but I’d wanted to do it on my own terms. I hadn’t saved up enough money yet and I wasn’t ready to leave Grayson. It felt like we were right at the beginning of something good, and if we could only get through the storm, we’d have potential to end up together. Him and me.
However, if I wasn’t making money, I didn’t really have many options. I could get a part time job somewhere, just to prolong the inevitable, but I think deep down I knew that getting fired was the final kick in the ass that I’d needed to pursue my dream. I just had to figure out how I’d leave Grayson without tearing my heart out in the process.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Amount saved for Paris: $3417 (plus $537 from my last Cole Designs paycheck and another $3250 from selling my car).
Items I have: a pumpkin spice k-cu
p I stole from my desk on the way out of the office.
Items I need: a list of hostels in Paris.
French phrases that I know: Non, je ne ai pas de travail. Puis-je laver la vaisselle?…which translates to: “No, I don’t have a job. Can I wash dishes?”
“So, they canned you?” Brooklyn asked as we spoke on the phone later that afternoon.
I rolled my eyes and sat up in bed, suddenly feeling antsy. Why had I called her instead of just moping solo style? She had a way of making it seem like getting fired was a bad thing. I preferred to look at it like I was a badass, blazing my way through the business world and taking life by the horns.
“Cammie?” she asked again, this time a bit more impatient.
I sighed. “Yes, I am a jobless loser.”
She laughed and then quickly corrected herself. “I’m sorry, Cammie. Why don’t you come out to Montana and stay with Jason and I for a few days? LuAnne would love to see you and Cowboy Derek is still as cute as ever.”
While the idea of Montana sounded very enticing, I knew I couldn’t go. I had unfinished business in LA and as soon as it was cleared up, I’d be on my way to Paris. My gut twisted at the idea of boarding a plane—of leaving Grayson behind. Having him fire me was one of the most humiliating moments of my life, but leaving him behind would be ten times harder to bear.
“Thank you for the offer, sis, but I’m going to stick around here.”
“For Grayson?”
I paused, wondering how much I ought to tell her.
“For a lot of reasons.”
My entire life I’d had Brooklyn as a safety net to catch me whenever life got a little too hard. In the 7th grade, when Sarah Buchanan said that my eyes were so big that I looked like a fish in front of my entire English class, Brooklyn took me out for ice cream after school and then we egged Sarah's house on the way home. My senior year of high school, when Todd Jenkins was so drunk at prom that he tried to force himself on me in our high school’s bathroom, Brooklyn picked me up outside the front of the school and then we egged his front door. Hmm, my childhood had a lot of eggs in it.