Page 64 of Go Find Less

Chapter 23

Piper

“Piper,canIseeyou for a second in my office?” I barely register Brianna’s voice over the music in my headphones, but when Vic reaches around our partition and kicks the leg of my chair, I pull an earbud out.

“Be right there!” I manage, and roll out to wind around the gray cubicles and into her office toward the end of our hall.

You would think, as the type of company we are, that AllHearts would be more boisterous. Bright colors and fun, sexy offices that evoke the same kind of vibe as our website - our marketing. But I learned my first week here that the creative energy was mostly saved for the products, something I was completely ok with if it meant getting me out of the house.

“You called?” I swing into the doorway of Brianna’s office, which is just as drab as the rest of our spaces - no artwork, just her M.B.A. diploma and a family picture on the wall behind her.

“Close the door for me, will you?” She gestures to the seat in front of her desk with a hand sticking out of a black blouse, holding onto a pile of papers on the other, and immediately my heart rate skyrockets. I can feel it in my chest as I turn to close the door behind me, and I try to take a deep, steadying breath before I turn back around.

I do not do well with authority. In general, I am a people pleaser - always have been. Penny and I joke regularly that I got all the oldest daughter traits, and she doesn’t mind one bit. She’s always been the carefree one, the one who fit in easily, who found a place in any social setting, who didn’t automatically assume her ass was grass when a supervisor wants to talk behind closed doors.

I try to find an ounce of grace in my bones as I slide into the seat, careful not to trip, and Brianna sets down the papers in her hands with a sigh. My throat closes when I realize they’re printouts of my last batch of designs.

“Is something wrong?” I stutter out, and immediately curse myself. It’s obvious from my tone that I’m nervous as hell, but she’s oblivious as she laces her hands together in front of her.

“You’re incredibly talented, Piper,” she begins, and I immediately sense thebutI know is about to rear its ugly head. “But…” I see her eyes flit to the drawings in front of her. “Piper, I know you have a better grasp on our brand than this.”

I don’t get angry often. Truly. Maybe it’s the run in with Bethani. Maybe it’s the lack of sleep, looking forward to my date with Fitz.

Maybe it’s just my patience finally wearing thin after years of making my ideas dull - making my ideas small - for this company.

But I feel my jaw clench, and in my lap, away from her eyes, my fingers immediately find a cuticle and start picking.

The pain sears through me because, fuck, I realize with a start - it’s been years since I’ve done that. Years since I’ve been pushed to the point of self-sabotage to keep my mouth from saying what my brain is screaming.

And, yet, I still don’t say it.

I don’t say what’s floating through my head - that my most outlandish ideas have been the ones to get customers in the virtual doors in the last few low-performing seasons. That my marketing degreed ass knows what their brand is backwards and forwards.

Instead, I say, “I’m sorry you feel that they’re not on brand.” I splay my hands out on my knees, letting the tips of my acrylic nails dig into my plaid pants. The one thing I splurged on, my nails, to keep myself from doing exactly what I’d just tried to do.

Brianna takes her glasses off, her dark brows furrowing in a tight line. I glance from her face to the picture behind her - her daughter has the same dark hair, the same tight smile.

“Is something going on?” she asks quietly, setting the glasses on her desk and fixing me with a stare. I feel myself shift - in all my time here, I’ve never been called to the carpet like this. “It feels like something has changed in the last few months.”

“I mean, the incident at the game- "

“No,” she interrupts. “Before that. You just haven’t seemed…” She pauses, worrying at her bottom lip like she doesn’t want to say what she has to. “You haven’t seemed yourself.”

I’m not sure how to answer her.

Myself? I haven’t seemed myself?

Was something going on? Had something happened in the last few months to make her think things were different.

“I’ve had a lot going on,” I hum out, my nails digging further into my knees.

“Is it your reunion?” she asks plainly, and then rolls her eyes. “I heard you and Vic discussing it the other day. If other creative projects are taking your attention-"

“It’s got nothing to do with my attention.” She looks taken aback that I would interrupt her, but I press on, trying to get the words out before I stop myself. “My creative projects outside of work will not impact my results here. I’ll take some time to review the rest of the team’s greenlit designs and see what I can come up with to fit with them.”

I will not apologize. I will not back down. And, assuming that’s where this conversation was headed, I won’t be told I’m not allowed to have other things going on outside of work.

Brianna blinks at me, and then, silently, she hands over the pile of papers she was looking at, along with a manila folder.

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