Girl Most Likely To. Poonam Sharma
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Название: Girl Most Likely To
Автор: Poonam Sharma
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
isbn: 9781408997239
isbn:
The crowd snickered, shook their heads and dispersed.
The first thing I saw when I sat down at my desk after our Monday-morning team meeting was a bouquet of f lowers. Logically, I assumed they were from Jon, so I drop-kicked them into the trash. The second thing I saw was an instant messenger chat request f lashing on my screen. Taunting me. Winking at me. Blowing in my ear. “IM” is the modern equivalent of passing notes in class, except that it is sanctioned by the powers-that-be, leaves little chance for some other kid to swipe a note, and is (for most professionally unsatisfied young career-types) slightly more addictive than mediocre sex. I had no choice but to respond when I saw the following prompt from Cristina.
Any time a coworker found me using IM for fun, I felt as if I’d been caught eating my crayons. Looking up from my screen I saw Peter waiting silently for my attention. For a minute? For a week?
“Ready to explain the Luxor deal to the intern?” he asked. Then he noticed the petals sticking out of my garbage can. “Oooh…I heard somebody got f lowers delivered this morning. I didn’t know it was you. Are they from Jon? Is he still trying to get back together with you?”
“I assume so,” I replied flatly.
“Does this mean that he’s patching things up with you and planning on whisking you off someplace to bear his many, many children?” Peter mock-punched me in the shoulder. Which part of my office resembled a locker room?
“Why? Are you writing a book?” I asked.
“I guess I’m nervous,” he replied, grinning as he motioned for Denny and Wade to claim a couple of chairs. “Because if anything ever took you away from the firm, I don’t know how I’d live without your witty retorts to my weekly team e-mails.”
Peter was essentially my partner—the other associate on our team with whom I worked most closely. Born and bred in the Bronx by an African-American mother and a Puerto Rican father, he was the product of a full scholarship to Tufts. He mentored inner-city schoolchildren, ran marathons whenever possible, and seemed genuinely excited to be a part of the team. As if all of that weren’t disturbing enough, he was also afflicted with the need to send uplifting weekly e-mail messages to our group.
That morning’s read: Happiness is fulfilling more than one’s fair share of the teamwork.
I had responded (and cced everyone) with Happiness is a mutually consensual game of grab-ass.
Honestly, you couldn’t have found a straighter arrow. Peter’s cheerleaderlike enthusiasm for the company made me want to shoot him with a tranquilizer dart. Or myself. Anyone, really. There was no reason to be that pumped up about something like Equity Research.
“You have nothing to worry about, Peter. I would never dream of neglecting my responsibility to the team. I’ll tell you what—if and when someone does make an honest woman out of me, I promise to still fax a retort over to you from my Mommy-And-Me classes every morning. Somebody’s got to temper your hideous and unnecessary optimism with some good-old-fashioned cynicism. Otherwise you’ll blind us all. Really, Peter, that kind of Little-House-On-The-Prairie crap will get one of our interns mugged.”
“Ouch! Someone’s claws are out today! I like that, I like that,” he laughed like a mental patient at his own jokes. “Maybe you can bring some of that enthusiasm to the all-nighter we’re gonna have to pull to finish up the research on that Luxor deal. You know we have to make our recommendation by tomorrow morning. Now, let’s get young Wade here up to speed.”
The call came from inside the house. As usual, they used separate phones. As usual, they assumed I had an hour to waste in the middle of the day. And as usual, my parents caught me wide open and defenseless at my desk when they decided to attack. Only this time, Peter, Wade and Denny were seated in my office, so they, too, got caught in the crossfire.
Peter reclined in his seat across from my desk while Denny took notes beside him. Wade sat on the edge of his seat below my framed SUCCESS poster of a rock-climber reaching the peak of a mountain. That poster, like the two of them, came with the office, along with its mahogany desk, glass door, and many walls of gray.
“This week, we’ve been poring over the past five years’ worth of financials from a software manufacturer in Taiwan,” Peter explained to Wade, through a mouthful of chicken Caesar salad. “We’re finally making an investment recommendation to Alan and Steve tomorrow morning. However, we thought it might be helpful for you to understand how the research fits into the larger picture.”
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