“Alright, then.” I reach for the receiver of my desk phone, finger primed over the hold button flashing red. “Real quick, though, you should wear that pink floral-print dress on your date tonight. The one with the ties at the shoulders. Guys love a girl in a sundress.”
“Mmhmm, yeah, sure. Love you, Mom. I’ll call you later.”
“Please don’t,” she singsongs as I hang up.
I grant myself one breath to recalibrate my thoughts and put on my Public Relations executive hat. An urgent call from a CEO only means one thing: crisis.
Stifling a groan, I crack my neck side to side as I connect the call. “Mr. Pruitt, what can I do for you?”
Pastinga smiley sticker on the face of a disaster—that’s the job. A job that consists of crisis management, spinning narratives, and cultivating goodwill in the community. The latter, to be honest, is the only aspect of this job I enjoy anymore. Everything else, I find mentally draining and wholly unsatisfying.
So when a metaphorical dumpster fire wherein laid a box of even more metaphorical abandoned kittens threatens the reputation of a Fortune 500 company and one of my largest accounts, the whole office kicks into high gear.
Five hours—no lunch, not a sip of water, no bathroom breaks. My eyes have crossed from staring at the computer screen as I try to keep up with the onslaught of emails pouring in. I reply to one just for three more to chime in my inbox all while the phone rings incessantly. My team and I have scrambled to draft press releases, manage media interview requests from less-than-ethical journalists seeking the hottest click-bait, and hover over my client’s social media accounts to mount a defense against the high and mighty keyboard warriors out there.
By the time I finally come up for air, my colleagues at Hawkley House have all headed home for the night.
I glance at the clock.Dammit.My best friend is never going to let me live this one down.
Me
I’m not gonna make that date tonight with David.
Wait…
Derek?
Kristen
Daniel.
If you could see the look of shock on my face right now…
Me
Har har. You saw the news out of SellTech today. You know this one’s not my fault.
Kristen
I did see it. I was at the office too, remember? I left two hours ago with the rest of the sane people.
Me
Lecture me later. Can you give me his number so I can try and reschedule?
Kristen
Hang on. I’ll have John forward it to you.
A few minutes later, a contact comes through from Kristen’s husband. I type out a quick message to Daniel explaining what happened and ask if we can reschedule to next week.
My phonewhooshesas I drop it to my desk and spin in my chair. The expansive view of downtown Boulder stretching to the Flat Irons of the Rocky Mountains in the distance beyond greets me through my office window.
Snowcapped peaks and powdery ski slopes are what draws most people to Colorado. But I prefer my mountain range views bathed in a sea of green like they are right now. Some spend their summers running off to sandy beaches that butt up to turquoise waters, the ebbs and flows of the waves along the shore nature’s very own sound machine. Not me. Give me the emerald sparkle of the mountains cutting in and out of the horizon, the still silence of nature except for the occasional breeze rustling through the pines. It’s a heaven my mom and I have shared my entire life.
And this summer will be her last.
The buzz of my cell forces the barbed wire around my heart to release just enough for me to suck in a breath.