The Rule Book (Rule Breakers #1)(46)

 

Jackson shifted uncomfortably and grimaced, which on his face looked like he maybe had one too many of those soy lattes and was auditioning for a starring role on a Pepto commercial. I rolled my eyes. Whatever. Once we got to my portion of the slides, I’d take over and get my five minutes of presenting and proper brownnosing, and move one step further toward solidifying my position in the company. Badda-bing Badda-boom, Brogan wouldn’t know what hit him.

 

Marta and Eric from accounting started off the meeting, and staff members worked their way around the table with news each person brought from their specific division. Since Jackson sat next to Brogan, we were the last two to present our information.

 

I shuffled my notecards in my hands and the damp edges started to curl around the curve of my palm. Okay, so I was a few steps beyond a little bout of stage fright. This was the first time I’d done a presentation not talking out of my ass, and at this point, the notecards were merely just a security blanket in case I fumbled over my wording. Zoey would truly be proud of my preparation, except for the fact that these technically were her notecards. She was too busy talking on the phone to Shirtless Dude for me to ask to borrow some, but the girl was an office supply junkie—I doubted three notecards would really put her out. Just in case, I’d buy her an extra pack next time we were at Costco.

 

As soon as Zelda sat down, Brogan pointed to Jackson. “Go ahead,” he said. He drummed his fingers along the edge of the table, almost seeming to tap out a tune. If I were to bet, I’d guess it was a song from one of his thousands of records lining the walls in his office. Is that what he did when everyone left for the night? I could picture him leaning back in his chair, closing his eyes while the pop and crackle of some sweet baroque melody on the record player flooded the corner office. That delicious mouth would be slack and completely kissable.

 

I shook my head, erasing those thoughts. Game time, Lainey. Focus that sixty-thousand-dollar education on these next few minutes and make the impending doom of paying off your student debt worth something.

 

Jackson started the presentation, giving all the facts and data to suggest that we were behind on our quarterly quota and a few ways to improve on our losses. He pressed the clicker and moved to the next slide, which was the Gizzara account—my slides. I pushed my seat out to stand next to him, but he continued on with the presentation, not giving me a chance to take over.

 

“As I was saying”—he paused and glared at me, as if daring me to say something—“Gizzara’s clients are not using our services to the full extent.” He continued, but all I could hear was I, world’s tenth worst human being (there had to be a couple handfuls worth of assholes worse than him, I prayed) can’t think of any good ideas on my own, so I must steal them from my smart, sweet, innocent coworker who currently wants to throat-punch the crap out of me, the insufferable first assistant.

 

I was still frozen in a pre-standing half-crouched position. I waited a few more seconds, thinking maybe Jackson was going to intro me, to somehow make up for this. Because even I had a hard time believing the “Et tu, Brute” level that he’d just stooped to. Was that a knife sticking out of my back or just the stab of cold hard betrayal? Either way, I could officially mark him off my list of people to catch me during a trust fall exercise.

 

Brogan shifted his attention to me, and his eyebrows pushed together as he took in my hunchback position. I sunk back into my seat and chewed on the inside of my cheek to keep from both verbally and physically maiming Jackson. What a frigging jerk.

 

The point about adding more services than just social media management to the company to diversify was one that I was proudest of. I glanced over at Brogan as Jackson said this and a thrill shot through me as he nodded along, clearly pleased. Pleased at my work, I internally screamed. My work that was being passed off as someone else’s, unfortunately.

 

As Jackson got to the end of the slides, Brogan stood up, his chair cutting through the silence of the room. “This is excellent work, Jackson. I’m impressed.”

 

“Thank you.” Jackson beamed.

 

I clenched my jaw and kept waiting for the Yes, and Lainey came up with everything, and yes, I do hide my bald spot by combing my hair to one side!—something to redeem what he’d just done to me, because under all that Dolce and Gabbana cologne, I’d like to believe his heart wasn’t two sizes too small—but it never came. My eyes narrowed as I turned toward Jackson, and he gave a shrug and apologetic smile.

 

Current list of most hated things: