The Hating Game

“Thank you for allowing me to do my job.” After spitefully pushing his in-trays crooked I march to the elevator.
I walk to the Starbucks across the street. The thing about being in combat with Joshua Templeman? I never truly win. That’s what is so deceptive about it all. The moment I think I’ve won, something happens to remind me I haven’t.
Please, let me enjoy this moment. Joshua Templeman is officially my friend.
It’s nothing but win, then lose, lose, lose.
Danny’s already at a seat by the window. The fact I’m late is another nail in my professionalism’s coffin.
“Hi. Thanks for meeting me. Sorry I’m late.”
I order coffee and then briefly outline my idea.
“I’ve got time this weekend,” Danny offers nobly. He’s been looking at me with undisguised interest; my tied-up hair, my bare throat and the red of my mouth. I have a bad feeling he’s hoping our bad kiss was a blip.
“I’d be paying you out of my own pocket. Can you give me an idea of how much?”
Danny doesn’t look concerned. “Why don’t we make a deal. Credit my work in the interview and mention my new self-publishing software to Helene. There may be some cross-functionalities that could suit your project. And . . . three hundred bucks.”
“That’s fine, and of course I will,” I rush to assure him. This is something I can do. Give him a little exposure to the exec, and help build his business.
A couple of B&G people are queuing for coffee and look at us with speculative glances. Another walks past on the street and waves at me. I’m sitting in a big glass fishbowl. My cheeks start to burn when I think about everything I’ve said and done with Joshua on the top floor. The barbs, the insults, the circuit-frying kisses. In our own isolated little world, everything seemed so normal and acceptable.
“Thanks for thinking of me on this.” Danny sips his coffee.
“Well, after our dinner on Monday I knew I could trust you with my little secret. And like you said, I needed some help and you were the first person I thought of.”
“Oh, so it’s a secret?”
“Helene knows, of course. Mr. Bexley knows about the project concept but not the actual finished product I’m hoping to present.”
I wish I didn’t have to say this next part, and I’m sad at how messed up this situation has gotten.
“I need to ask you to please, don’t say anything to Josh. I know you won’t see him again, but let’s keep it between us. He’s so sure he’s getting the job. It’s more important than ever I beat him.”
“I won’t. But, actually, he’s over there.”
“What?” I nearly scream it. I can’t turn around. “Act businesslike.” I draw a diagram on my notepad and Danny draws some slashy lines on it.
“What is his deal? He always looks furious.” Danny shakes his head at my notepad and we do a bit more business-miming.
“That’s his face.”
“You guys have a weird dynamic going on.”
“There’s no dynamic. No dynamic.” I begin swigging at my coffee. It’s too hot and a terrible idea.
“But you know he’s in love with you, right?”
I inhale my huge mouthful and begin to drown on dry land. Danny leans over and thumps me between my shoulder blades. Tears are streaming down my face. I wish he’d let me die.
“He’s not,” I wheeze. I use a napkin to wipe my face. “That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. Ever.”
“As your friend,” Danny articulates with a little smile, “I’m telling you he is.”
“What’s he doing?”
“Scaring the cashier shitless. People are concerned about how things will be if he gets the job. We know how good at cutting staff he is. A few guys in design are brushing up their CVs, in case.”
“I’m sure he’d be fine to work for.” I muster my diplomacy. I won’t stoop to Josh’s level. I stand up and gather my things.
“Let’s say hi to him,” Danny says and I’m pretty sure he’s messing with me. His mouth is lifted into a half smile.
“No, we’re going to climb out the bathroom window. Quick.”
He laughs and shakes his head. Once again, I’m impressed by his bravery. Everyone else tries to avoid the monster in their midst. But I do know a secret about Josh. I think of him last night, taking my pulse, counting each beat of my heart. Covering me with a blanket, tucking my feet in. It’s quite remarkable how he’s managed to maintain this frightening façade for so long.
“Hi,” we both say in unison as we approach.
“Well, hello,” Josh says archly.
“Quit stalking so much.” My tone is so aggrieved that the girl at the coffee machine laughs out loud.
osh fixes his cuff. “Missed each other, did you?”
I am lasering the word SECRET into Danny’s brain. I raise my eyebrows and he nods. Josh watches this exchange.
“Lucy’s talking to me about an . . . opportunity to . . . work with her.” Danny is a genius. Nothing is more believable than the truth.
“That’s right. Danny’s helping me with my . . . presentation.” We couldn’t seem more shady if we tried.
“You’re working on your presentation. Right. Okay.” Josh takes his coffee when his name is called and gives such an accusing look my face nearly melts off. “And were we doing that too, Lucinda? Last night on my couch?”
Danny’s jaw hits the floor. I am not amused. If this got out, my reputation would be in shreds. It’s too juicy. Danny’s still in contact with too many people in design. And he’s also a sticky-nosed gossip hound.
“In your dreams, Templeman. Ignore him, Danny. Walk back with me.”
I tug Danny ahead so he doesn’t get tossed into oncoming traffic. Josh follows at a languid pace, sipping his coffee. I’m holding Danny’s arm so tightly he winces as I drag him across the road.
“Even if he kidnaps and tortures you, don’t tell him what you’re doing for me. He’ll use every bit of information he can to screw me.”
“Wow, you guys really are mortal enemies.”
“Yep, to the death. Pistols and swords at dawn.”
“So he’s doing this to try to find out your interview strategy?” Danny says hi to a colleague and checks his phone.
“Exactly!” I let out a nervous whinny. I think everything is covered up. “I’ll call you after work once I’ve worked out what book I want you to format for me.”
Josh is nearly upon us. I’m beginning to think I might toss Danny into oncoming traffic myself to end this agonizing little tableau.
“Okay, talk to you tonight. Bye, Josh. Good luck in your interview.” Danny continues along the footpath.
Josh and I don’t say a word to each other as we get into the elevator. He’s so livid it’s a visceral thing. Meanwhile, I’m still partially deceased by what Danny said. You know he’s in love with you, right?
“He’s so nice. What a nice guy. I think I get what you see in him.” He speaks so sharply I bump backward. “I must have had a vivid dream last night.”
“Hey, what can I say? I lied. I’m a good actor.” I spread my arms wide and push ahead to my desk.
“So, you’re embarrassed of me?”
“No. Of course not. But no one can know. I think he’s a gossip. Oh, don’t give me that sourpuss face. People will talk about us.”
“Newsflash, people have always talked about us. And you don’t care if people talk about you and him, but not you and me?”
“You and I work ten feet from each other. It’s different. I want to reestablish some level of professionalism in this office.”
Josh pinches the bridge of his nose. “Fine. I’ll play it your way. If this is the last personal conversation we ever have in this building, then I’ll tell you now. Bring your bag on Friday.”
“What? What’s happening on Friday?”
“Bring in your stuff for the wedding. Your dress and stuff.”
At my walleyed stare, he reminds me. “You’re coming to my brother’s wedding. You insisted, remember?”
“Wait, why am I bringing my dress on Friday? The wedding is on Saturday. Is there a rehearsal? I didn’t agree to go to the wedding twice.”
“No. The wedding is at Port Worth and we have to drive there.”
I look at him, doubtful. “That’s not too far away.”
“Far enough away that we need to leave after work. Mom needs my help with a few things the night before.”
I’m filled to the brim with annoyance, terror, hurt feelings, and absolute certainty this is going to be a disaster. We stare into each other’s eyes.
“I knew you wouldn’t be happy but I also wasn’t expecting such complete horror.” Josh leans back in his chair and assesses me. “Don’t freak out.”
“We’ve never even gone to a movie together, or to a restaurant. I was nervous getting a ride in your car. And now you’re telling me I’m driving several hours with you and to bring my pj’s? Where are we staying?”
“Probably a seedy hotel.”
I am close to hyperventilating. I am this close to running down the fire escape. I’ve had a fair idea we’d at some point get around to playing the Or Something Game. I imagined it in his blue bedroom, or while hissing hurtful insults at him in the cleaner’s closet. But too much has happened today.
“I was kidding, Lucy. I have to talk to my mom about where we’re staying.”
“I didn’t properly think about meeting your parents. Look, I’m not coming. You were a real asshole to me just now, remember? You don’t need help beating me, remember? I’d have to be crazy to help you now. Go by yourself like a big loser.”
“You made the commitment. You promised. You never break your word.”
I shrug and my moral fibers strain uncomfortably. “Like I care.”
He decides to play his ace card. “You’re my designated moral support.”
It is the most intriguing thing he could have gone with. I can’t resist.
“Why exactly do you need moral support?” He doesn’t answer, but shifts uncomfortably in his seat.
I raise my eyebrows until he relents.
“I’m not dragging you along as my sex slave. I won’t lay a finger on you. I just can’t walk in without a date. And that’s you. You owe me, remember? I helped you vomit.”
He looks so grim I have a chill of foreboding.
“Moral support? Will it be so bad?”
His cell begins to ring, and he looks between it and me, torn.
“The issue here is timing. I have to take this.”
He walks down the hallway, and I resign myself to looking up the route, because unfortunately it’s true. I promised.
ONCE, A TINY eternity ago, I could lie on my couch like any other person. I could watch TV, eat snacks, and paint my nails. I could call Val and we’d go try on clothes. But now that I’m an addict, I have to hang on to the cushions with my chipped fingernails to stop myself from standing up, putting shoes on, and running to Josh’s building. The effort is making me ache. I weigh myself down with my laptop on my chest and halfheartedly flick between news sites, my interview presentation, Smurf auctions, and my favorite retro-dork clothing site.