Marcus’s eyebrows furrow.
“Right, I just thought it might make sense if we both interviewed him simultaneously.”
“Hmm…I’m not sure why that would make sense.”
“Well, just in case if…you know.” Trent nods at me as if I’m supposed to know what he is referencing.
“I don’t know, Trent. And if you would—”
“Exactly, you don’t know…which is why it would probably be best if I sat in for this.”
I blink to make sure I’m not having some sort of weird daymare. No, this is real. Trent is trying to hijack my meeting and interview with Marcus and for what purpose? I don’t know.
“Trent, if you would like to interview Marcus on your own time, that’s up to you. But I’d prefer if you would excuse yourself.”
“Really? I don’t think that’s what you really want.” Trent runs his finger and thumb along his jaw and sits down at the chair in front of my desk. I can’t believe he is physically situating himself in my office and refusing to leave. This is downright ridiculous.
Marcus jerks his jaw for a slight second. If I hadn’t been watching I would have missed it. He then sits down next to Trent. Great. It feels like two against one. Fine.
“Okay, well, let’s see, Marcus, I have your résumé pulled up here. Can you tell me what you would say is your best asset to Calstone Corp?”
“Oooh, Lauren, really? That’s your first question?” Trent shakes his head at me.
My eyes immediately dart to his and I wish I had the power to bolt him out of my office with one look like Bonnie in The Vampire Diaries. But alas, there is no witchcraft here. Just plain madness in the form of Trent and whatever the hell is going on in that whacked-out brain of his.
Marcus speaks up. “I’m good at grabbing new clients from the lines. People who are calling in with issues, I turn into big clients. That’s my number one selling point.” He puckers his lips to the side and nods.
This is a great skill to have. I find myself nodding in unison. I open my mouth to speak and before a sound can formulate, I hear Trent’s remarks—and they are not ones that I fancy.
“Grabbing, so you steal other team members’ clients? Are you a poacher?” Trent laces his hands together and pops his knuckles.
Marcus looks indignant. “No, I take problems and turn them into sales. These are people who show up in my queue.” He jerks his head back and shakes it as if he is also trying to shake off the idea of being in a weird B movie or something. He’s not the only one… I wish I could tell him.
But I definitely have to say something in defiance of Trent. Not only has he completely hijacked my meeting but he’s belittling me in front of a colleague too. This has got to stop. “Well I think that’s a great quality, Marcus. I can certainly use that kind of ingenuity on my team.” I smile at him and he nods his head, smiling back in agreement.
“Right, well…what do you think, Lauren? Any more questions?” Trent pops his neck from side to side. I wish I could pop him out of my office. This display of machismo is ridiculous beyond belief, but then again, so is almost everything about him.
“I’ve heard everything I need to hear. Thanks for stopping by, Marcus. I’ll be sending you a team meeting invite for this afternoon. Please be on the lookout for it.” I stand and offer my hand.
Marcus shakes my hand with the right amount of pressure and the sides of his mouth pull up into the perfect grin. Not arrogance or overconfidence, not a false sense of happiness. He seems genuinely excited to be joining my team. Trent stays in his seat and Marcus exits my office and unfortunately closes the door. Leaving me alone with Trent.
I hesitate for a second and then decide it’s best to hash it out with him and get him on the right track for good.
I slide into my seat and glance at the stacks of papers in front of me. They are proof of my existence in this office, in this company prior to Trent. I’m making a name for myself and I don’t need him to take cuts and slices of it along the way. This has to end.
“Trent, I want to be clear about something right here and now.” I need to say this and be heard. Loud and clear. No missed signals, no interruptions. Or interferences. “I do not want you to ever be a part of any meeting or discussion unless I personally ask you. And by personally I mean that the words: Trent, I would like xyz will come out of my mouth. Otherwise, there are no mixed signals or quandaries for you to figure out. If I don’t ask then it’s a no.” I take a deep breath. “Are we understood?” Yes, this is a moment in my career that I will look back on and give myself a virtual high five. I’m sure of it.
Trent stands up and nods. Wow, I’m so surprised. I thought for sure that he would argue or say something to negate my words and, most importantly, I thought he would ignore all of it and say something dismissive about me. But nothing. Just a simple nod and then he was gone.
I let out a breath I didn’t know I’d been holding. Maybe this is a good sign? I hope. But knowing Trent, probably not.
My drive home from work is long; Friday traffic is always such a drag. I’m in the mood for some good tunes but I just can’t shake the bad office mojo. Since the disaster meeting with Marcus, Trent has stayed away from me all week. Which has been great. But his numbers have been amazing and everyone on our floor is noticing it, including Javier. I definitely can’t say anything to our Human Resources department about him now because there will be some sort of insinuation that I have an issue with Trent’s promotion or something along those lines. I shake my head. The sound of my cell comes over my speakers. I click the answer button my steering wheel.
“Hey, honey, how are you?” my mom asks.
“Good, Mom. Real good,” I lie.
“So, have you and Jack had time to figure out a theme?”
I roll my eyes. My mother loves themes and decorating, going all out on any holiday. She wants me and Jack to decide on a theme for our wedding so that she can go overboard with decorations and attire. This is not exactly how I envisioned my wedding and though I love my mother with all my heart, I don’t want my wedding to be a blown-out-of-proportion theme extravaganza. Sure I want there to be symmetry and color coordination with the décor but not any extreme overindulgence in decorations. I’d like a more refined classic look and I’m sure whatever my mom has planned consists of flashing lights and feathers.
I sigh. “No, we haven’t. I’m not sure that we really want a defined theme.”
My mother gasps. “What? Lauren, you have to have a theme.”
“I don’t know, Mom. I don’t think we do. I think we can just have something kind of, you know, toned down.”
“I see.” The silence is painful. I don’t want to hurt her feelings and I know she only wants to help but I—we—don’t really want the same thing that my mom does and it’s our wedding after all.
“Mom?
