Wendy
She’s been lingering too long outside Leah’s sad little office in this forgotten stretch of hallway when Leah finally rounds the corner.
“Leah,” Wendy says, blocking her path with a smile too smooth to trust. Her voice is polished, but her eyes are loaded.
“What now, Wendy?” Leah barely slows.
Wendy glances around the dim hallway like she’s slumming it. “They really did banish you to no-man’s land, huh? I nearly needed GPS just to find this office.”
Leah just blinks. “You came to tell me that?”
“No,” Wendy says, straightening her posture like she’s stepping into a boardroom. “I came to clear something up. About last night. You looked awfully cozy talking to Boots. But whatever connection you think you’ve made? It’s over. Back off.”
Leah smirks, brow arching as if daring her to say it again. “Excuse me?”
“She’s not your level. You’re too low on the ladder to be making eye contact with Boots. Let alone mingling at public events.”
“These sound like Wendy Rules. Not NDA Rules.” Leah steps around her, exhaling one dry laugh. “And you don’t get to dictate who I speak to. Professionally or socially. I realize you have authoritarian tendencies, Wendy, but… someone’s projecting.”
“Oh, am I projecting? That’s a big word for you, Leah.”
Leah pivots, eyes narrowing as she takes Wendy in. “Hmmm. That pulse of insecurity around Boots’s proposal not selling? It’s showing.” She lets it hang there, just long enough. “You might want to patch that up before someone less friendly notices.”
“How do you know about Boots’s proposal?” Wendy bristles, temper flickering just beneath the surface. “Back off now, or I’ll take this to Alan.”
“I’m sure Alan would love to hear how you’re distracting his new star hire with some cutesy little book proposal,” Leah says, savoring every word. “Bit small potatoes, even for you, don’t you think?” She lets the words settle, then inches forward, never breaking eye contact. “But maybe this isn’t even about Boots. Maybe it’s about Shane. He told me you two had words last night. You really need to work on that possessive streak.”
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“Not possessive. Just calling it like I see it.” She doesn’t laugh so much as dismiss the moment with a scoff. “Shane’s out of your league, honey.”
“Oh? Because he flirts with me constantly. I might be catching feelings.” Leah tilts her head, mock-considering. “Maybe you could give me pointers—how not to get dumped next time?”
“Oh, sweetheart. If Shane mattered, I wouldn’t have left him. But if you think fucking my leftovers earns you a seat at this table? You’re even dumber than I thought.”
Wendy doesn’t look back. Just pivots, heels clicking like a clock wound too tight as she cuts down the hallway. Around the corner, she nearly shoulder-checks the IT guy whose name she never remembers. Then another turn, brisk and unbothered, right past Dhonielle Pinsky.
“Hey babe,” Wendy calls out, voice sugar-sweet, smile flawless like nothing’s broken behind it. And then she’s gone, slipping straight into Boots’s office without missing a beat.
“Why the hell did you blab to Leah about the book proposal?”
Boots glances up from her monitor, barely concerned. “I didn’t realize that information was classified.”
Wendy exhales. Steps inside and shuts the door, not waiting for permission. “Don’t be glib, Boots. Leah’s the last person you should be talking to about this.”
“Hard disagree. Leah’s got good ideas. Like Darin Rossellini. She thinks he can help with my socials and with building the platform. To help the proposal.”
“And you believe her?” Wendy lets out a bitter laugh. “You actually think Darin Rossellini is her client? That she has the clout to bring him in?”
“She didn’t say that. Just that she could try. Really wasn’t a big deal.”
“She’s a baby agent with a padded résumé and a roommate. And now you’ve handed her a foothold in something far above her pay grade.”
“You’re overreacting, Wendy. She briefly introduced me to Darin last night, that’s it. Nothing’s come of it.”
“I should hope not. If you’re seriously considering letting some culty new-age warlock co-opt your brand while I’m cut out of the loop, then maybe this isn’t working. Maybe you don’t need me.”
“Is that a threat?” Boots asks like she’s genuinely curious.
“It’s a reality check. This relationship cuts both ways. Undermine me, and—”
“Undermine you? I made a passing comment. You’re the one acting like it’s a breach of national security. What’s really going on here, Wendy? You think the book won’t sell?”
“You don’t talk about things too early. It’s like pregnancy. You wait until it’s safe.” Then, without thinking, she says it: “Not that you’d know. Or ever will. You’re what—mid-forties now?”
Silence drops between them. Boots just studies her, long enough for Wendy to feel it.
“I didn’t mean that.” Wendy’s voice flattens, almost defensive. “Just… loop me in next time, okay? No more sidebars with Leah. No Darin. No decisions without me. I’m the expert here.”
“Sure, Wendy.” Boots’s tone is unreadable now. Like she’s completely checked out. Done with the conversation. “Whatever you need.”
Wendy forces a nod and turns to leave. For a second, she almost looks back. But she doesn’t, and as the door clicks shut behind her, she wonders if she’s just made an irreparable mistake.