From the writer of Sweet Spot, comes the sequel of two familiar characters you already saw coming.
Harper Davis has many titles: marketing connoisseur, almost-lawyer, disappointment to parents, and most importantly: liar. Big. Fat. Liar. But what el...
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I check my watch for maybe the seventh time since I got here and my mother notices, immediately putting down her cutlery.
"Are we boring you, Harper?" She asks. If looks could cut, she's wielding a samurai sword right about now.
"No," I force a smile. "Just getting late for work."
Which isn't entirely untrue. I like to get into work at least half an hour earlier than my starting time so I can revise my schedule for the day and prep. I like to know what my day will consist of because it helps me feel like I have a better shot at completing all tasks and doing them right if I know what they are beforehand. I don't like to be surprised with work I'm unfamiliar with.
Work starts in fifteen minutes so my prepping window is officially closed, even if Rey Enterprises is only ten minutes from where my parents and I are having breakfast. Somehow I got roped into it before my day even had a chance to start. I blame my lack of sleep and an unforeseen call at six in the morning. It wasn't the most pleasant night.
Flashes of why I couldn't sleep and what kept me up all night threaten to push the forefront of my attention but I shake them off. I promised myself I'd stop obsessing over what he-who-shall-not-be-named-because-we-hate-him-now-okay-fine-hate-is-a-strong-word-maybe-dislike, said to me in the library three days ago. That was an entire weekend ago and I've had time to mope and feel like a kicked puppy but no more.
I'm dreading having to see him. I got so many calls and messages over the weekend I honestly thought about blocking his number. But he's my partner at work most days and I can't fake break up with him until my parents leave so I'm just going to have to live with it for the time being. Until then I've decided to ignore him because, as they say, it's bliss.
"Will it really make a difference if you're a few minutes late?" Mom swipes some butter out of its round plastic container and spreads it on her toast. "They'll hardly struggle without five minutes of a social media update."
My previously delicious strawberry suddenly tastes like Mao's shit and I stop chewing, my jaw locked. "My job is more than updating social media."
"Dressing mascots, making signs, whatever it is that you do. I'm sure it's important but I think we can all agree it's not life and death, Harper."
I lock eyes with the we in question but Dad is just as fast to look away, taking a sip of his coffee and looking out the window we're seated beside. There's nothing important going on outside. And apparently nothing important in front of him either.
"All tasks in life are meant to be completed with excellence." Mom finally looks at me when she recognizes the words. Though my heart is pounding, I force the words out anyway. The anger of taking everyone's shit and everyone thinking they can give me their shit is the only thing driving me. "Isn't that what you taught me? So why shouldn't I do my job with excellence, regardless of life and death?"
