I shook my head, erasing those thoughts. Game time, Lainey. Focus that sixty-thousand-dollar education on these next few minutes and make the impending doom of paying off your student debt worth something.
Jackson started the presentation, giving all the facts and data to suggest that we were behind on our quarterly quota and a few ways to improve on our losses. He pressed the clicker and moved to the next slide, which was the Gizzara account—my slides. I pushed my seat out to stand next to him, but he continued on with the presentation, not giving me a chance to take over.
“As I was saying”—he paused and glared at me, as if daring me to say something—“Gizzara’s clients are not using our services to the full extent.” He continued, but all I could hear was I, world’s tenth worst human being (there had to be a couple handfuls worth of assholes worse than him, I prayed) can’t think of any good ideas on my own, so I must steal them from my smart, sweet, innocent coworker who currently wants to throat-punch the crap out of me, the insufferable first assistant.
I was still frozen in a pre-standing half-crouched position. I waited a few more seconds, thinking maybe Jackson was going to intro me, to somehow make up for this. Because even I had a hard time believing the “Et tu, Brute” level that he’d just stooped to. Was that a knife sticking out of my back or just the stab of cold hard betrayal? Either way, I could officially mark him off my list of people to catch me during a trust fall exercise.
Brogan shifted his attention to me, and his eyebrows pushed together as he took in my hunchback position. I sunk back into my seat and chewed on the inside of my cheek to keep from both verbally and physically maiming Jackson. What a frigging jerk.
The point about adding more services than just social media management to the company to diversify was one that I was proudest of. I glanced over at Brogan as Jackson said this and a thrill shot through me as he nodded along, clearly pleased. Pleased at my work, I internally screamed. My work that was being passed off as someone else’s, unfortunately.
As Jackson got to the end of the slides, Brogan stood up, his chair cutting through the silence of the room. “This is excellent work, Jackson. I’m impressed.”
“Thank you.” Jackson beamed.
I clenched my jaw and kept waiting for the Yes, and Lainey came up with everything, and yes, I do hide my bald spot by combing my hair to one side!—something to redeem what he’d just done to me, because under all that Dolce and Gabbana cologne, I’d like to believe his heart wasn’t two sizes too small—but it never came. My eyes narrowed as I turned toward Jackson, and he gave a shrug and apologetic smile.
Current list of most hated things:
3. Mildew on my shower wall
2. Uber rides with sketch drivers
1. Jackson friggin’ Wells
I shot him a look and rolled my shoulders back. Maybe if I stared hard enough I might actually burn a hole through his skull.
“We’ll start implementing those ideas tomorrow.” Brogan turned to me. “Lainey.”
My heart floated in my chest. Maybe he’d realize that this was my work. Not that he had any reason to, because he’d never seen a project from me cross his desk, but one could hope.
I stopped grimacing at Jackson and turned to our boss. “Yes?”
“Do you think you can set all this up? I’ll have Jackson walk you through the steps.”
My eye twitched. “I think I can handle that,” I said, slow and measured.
What was that about a side order of spit to go along with Jackson’s next soy latte?
Unlike some people, I wasn’t about to be a rat in front of the whole office. My hands curled into fists, and I chewed on the inside of my lip until I was sure a WWE style death fight wouldn’t ensue in the conference room, complete with spandex and death metal music.
What reality was I living in where I assumed my name would be on that presentation? Wake up and smell the coffee, Lainey Taylor. You’re not in the goodie gumdrop forest, you’re in the big leagues. And big leagues meant bigger pricks. There’d be no making this mistake again.
Brogan adjourned the meeting, and everyone filed out into the lobby. The only people left were Brogan, the Grinch, and me.
“You didn’t have anything you wanted to add?” Brogan prompted me, expectant.
Um, yeah, your second in command is a fink who deserves a million paper cuts on his tongue as penance. “I agreed with the presentation. I didn’t really have anything to add to it.”
Brogan turned to me and frowned, a look of true disappointment etched on his face. “You can really learn a lot from him. I suggest spending more time together on projects so you can see what it takes to get ahead in this company.”