Page 67 of Well, Actually
Rylie’s feigning sick, similarly dodging William’s emails by saying he can’t record anything because he’s down with a stomach bug. That last detail was my idea. He had me look over one of his initial emails to William, making sure he wasn’t setting me up for any corporate backlash, and I added a super-subtle line about Rylie’s profound diarrhea and frequent gas attacks before hitting send.
It was also in that moment that I learned I actuallycanpush Rylie a little too far, but wrapping myself around him and kissing him until he sighs in surrender, smiling against my mouth, is the fastest way to bring him back to adoring me.
“Did you hear that Ray is doing the catering for Lilith’s fundraiser?” Rylie asks, brightening the gloomy Saturday morning by bringing me coffee in bed. I could weep and/or gobble his dick like Kirby right here and now. “It’s shaping up to be a huge event. Black tie and all that bullshit.”
“He is? That’s amazing!” I hide my quick flinch of emotion behind a huge gulp of coffee. I haven’t been a particularly good friend the past week, so wrapped up in this bubblegum-pink brain fog. In my defense, Aida’s messages to me havebeen a hair too passive-aggressive for my liking, centering around William’s ever-simmering frustration at the lack of content Rylie and I are putting out. It seemed easier to take a breather from both her and Ray than address that can of worms, knowing anything I share with Ray would be reported back to Aida.
I’ve nearly finished my coffee before I realize how unsettlingly quiet Rylie’s gone, and I glance at him. He’s stare into his mug, a mild blush kissing his cheeks.
“What are you thinking about?” I squeeze the sensitive spot above his knee, making him giggle. He bats my hand away, working to keep his coffee from spilling. I put my mug down and settle against the pillows with an expectant look.
He opens his mouth to say something, then slams it shut, shaking his head. “None of your business.”
I use my toe to tickle his side this time, and he grabs my ankle, haphazardly dropping his coffee to the bedside table before pulling me to him, making me shriek, nails scrabbling against the sheets.
He pins my thrashing body down, hovering over me with a sheepish grin. “Fine. You win.”
“I always do.”
He nips at my collarbone before continuing, “I was trying to think of a cute way to ask you to be my date to the fundraiser, you surly menace. You ruined the surprise. Are you happy?”
“Kind of,” I croon before sliding my arms around his neck and leaning up to kiss him.
“You’re an enemy of the state,” he says against my mouth.
“What state?”
“The state of my mental health.”
“Aw, baby girl, that was fucked long before I came around.”
Rylie laughs, ducking his head to kiss me some more. Everything heats, my skin glowing as his kisses become deeper, his hand slipping under my shirt. I feel him harden against my belly, his hips sliding lazily against mine. I drag my hands through his hair, giving him another deep kiss, before pulling back. His lips are parted, eyes hazed like he’s half in a dream. He dips down to kiss me again.
“I need more coffee before we continue,” I say with a smile against his mouth.
Rylie groans, lips dragging away from mine as he hangs his head. “And I’m assuming I’m going to be the one to rectify this problem?”
I make a show of looking around, my nose brushing his forehead. “Don’t see anyone else we can outsource this to.”
Rylie groans again but sits up, fixing me with a smile like he can’t deny me anything and he wouldn’t want to if he could. “I’ll be right back,” he says, unable to help himself and leaning in for one more kiss before hopping up and heading out of the room.
I sink further into the mattress, grinning up at the ceiling. I grab one of the pillows, biting into it as I squeal, kicking my feet for good measure.
My phone buzzes, and I reach for it, half expecting it to be Rylie sending me something ridiculous from the kitchen. My heart sinks when I see it’s an email from Landry with the subject line:Urgent. Please read.
Every instinct in my body tells me to throw my phone out the window instead of looking at that message, but I alreadyfeel guilty for not being as productive as I theoretically could be, and I can’t do anything else to risk my job. I open it, squinting until it’s slightly blurred as I try to tame the swell of anxiety rushing through me. Taking a deep breath, I sit up and start to read.
Dear Eva,
It is with great disappointment that I find myself writing this email. As you know, I’ve been the leader of Soundbites for over twenty years now, and I’ve always prided myself on hiring self-motivated professionals who rarely require micromanagement, let alone my intervention. Unfortunately, reports of your behavior of late have led me to doubt your professionalism and dedication to this organization. I am doing you the courtesy of reaching out to you first, before involving human resources and other disciplinary members of the company, including our new incoming leadership, to try and come to an understanding. To speak frankly, I am trying to talk some sense into you.
I see potential in you, Eva. A great deal of it. I see a woman who has the gumption to do what needs to be done to carve out a career for herself. I see a woman who would grab an opportunity for advancement with both hands, not let it idly slip by. Yet, your avoidance of responsibilities regarding the Rylie Cooper collaboration has me questioning what I thought I knew of your character.
You are a representative of the Soundbites brandin this partnership with Mr. Cooper, and your negligence to do your job is reflecting poorly not only on the organization, but on me as your boss. A company cannot function on whims and flights of fancy, especially when it comes to revenue generation from ads on new content. You have failed to deliver anything new with Mr. Cooper for over a week.
I want to ask you plainly: Do you care about your career? Do you want to be a journalist? Do you have the drive to dig deep to make something of yourself?
As I said above, I see parts of my younger self in you, Eva. But I can promise you I would never risk my career for a man, nor would any woman I choose to associate with and elevate in this competitive industry. I need you to look closely at the choices you’re making, and see if they reflect the values you want to uphold in your promising career. Prove to me you’re the woman I think you are. I don’t want to see this issue of unsatisfactory performance escalate any further.
