The noise doesn’t stop so I have to look up, doing my best to smile through the headache.

Tiffany is knocking on my desk, her eyebrows halfway up her forehead.

“Essence! We’re late!”

“Late for what?” 

Her ponytail jumps with each click of her rings against the wood as she pounds, “Meeting!” emphatically.

“Meeting?”

I should feel more concerned. 

I couldn’t have forgotten something that important, right? 

I start to check my calendar, shaking my head, “Since when do we have a meeting?” 

“Apparently, Mrs. Green mentioned it two hours ago, but of course, Monica wouldn’t send out our notices until 5 minutes before the meeting started.” 

Tiffany roughs up her words with a growl that would give anyone else a sore throat as she marches down the narrow hallway and I try to avoid brushing against her padded shoulders until I can overtake her.

“Monica” is watching Marvel trailers as we pass by, swiveling in her office chair, both her stockinged feet resting on her desk next to the dusty nameplate that says ‘Muñeca Guerrera.’

“If you were reborn as a hot dog slicer, you’d still be more useful than you’ve ever been in this life,” Tiffany fires at her as I slide past the desk and into the overly bright meeting room.

“Can’t hear you. Take a number,” Muñeca buzzes, sounding like Rosie Perez. She waves Tiffany away like a horsefly, and Tiff closes the meeting room door too forcefully.

Everyone else is already sitting around the table, Lillian rolling her eyes exasperatedly. I make my way to an empty seat in the least sunshiney part of the room.

“Well, now that everybody’s here…,” Lillian sighs, and her cheeks seem to deflate as she shakes her head. “We’re behind schedule on finalizing the concept for our summer showcase, but we’ve finally gotten some design ideas back from the marketing team.”

She points her remote at the screen on the wall, and the words 'Spooky Summer' appear in large drippy cursive above a romance novel cover. A pale red-haired woman in a red dress is visible from the nose down, all “up close and personal” with a man who is obviously a vampire - if not for his cloak and faux-Victorian blouse, for the dribble of blood by the side of his mouth.

“‘Spooky Summer,’” She reads out loud for the benefit of any of us editors who might be illiterate. “This is what we’re going with for this year, so we’ll be spotlighting all of our vampire and werewolf-themed romance novels.”

Tiffany just looks at me, but Lillian catches the movement.

“You don’t like it,” for some reason she’s addressing me instead of Tiff with an expression that’s halfway between frowning and pouting. “What’s wrong with ‘Spooky Summer?’ Scarlet likes it.”

Lillian waves her remote-holding hand with a flourish toward Scarlet, who nods and raises her cup of coffee as if she’s toasting Lillian’s good health.

Tiff looks indignant as her eyebrows jump to the middle of her forehead again, and she raves and signs defensively, “Scarlet loves everything! You could put Scarlet in a tank full of sharks and she would love it!”

Scarlet nods to that too, with the same ‘toasting’ motion, and laughs silently at her own joke as Avis attempts to slide into the debate with her velvety, patronizing tone.

“I think what Tiffany is trying to say, Mrs. Green, is that Stephenie Meyer, the author of Twilight, just expressed the concept so thoroughly that maybe just…one vampire-themed romance novel per showcase would be enough...”

She sweeps her voice up at the end with a demure air that makes it sound like a question rather than a suggestion. Tiffany’s expression is a mixture of gratitude and judgment. 

I watch as Lillian’s frown subsides slightly, notwithstanding another heavy sigh.

“Does anyone have any better ideas? We need something catchy, and fast.”

Again, Avis’s passive smile, this time with a slight raise of her eyebrows.

“We could try ‘Sleuthy Summer.’ There’s no end to the kinds of twists and turns we could incorporate into a romance mystery showcase.”

“No, that sounds disgusting. Like ‘slushy’ and ‘sewage.’” Avis shakes her head, sticking out her tongue, and holding up her shiny manicured hands like she’s afraid of touching the sound. “Anybody else?” 

“Maybe a 'Spicy Summer?” Tiff suggests, and Scarlet looks ready to hop on board that idea, but Avis frowns, just slightly.

“Oh, goodness no.” 

Still, Lillian seems to be considering that one as I raise my hand slowly, trying to mimic that diffident expression Avis wears so effectively.

“What if we just call the showcase ‘Infinite Summer’ and make it a collection of all our summer, tropical, and beach-themed romance novels?”

Tiffany and Avis both look at Lillian instead of me as she starts to nod pensively.

“That could work…,” Lillian drawls, “But that means that we definitely need you and Chatterjee to get a hustle on with those vacation romances and get them completed before June.”

I shouldn’t have said anything.

I feel ten times more tired in an instant.

“We can try, Mrs. Green, but we’re hitting a bit of a sticking point at the moment…,” I start to say.

“I know. I know,” Lillian waves her hand, “A personality clash. Another case of ‘Miss Walker-itis.’ It’s fine so long as the project is done on time.”

“Yes’m.”

She turns from me and drills the same order into Tiff, but in lighter terms, because everyone else has no such ‘itis.’

My feelings should be hurt.

“We’re getting pretty close to the end now,” Tiff nods professionally. “We were able to figure out a system that works well for us both, so things are flowing a lot better now.”

Sounds nice.

Lillian talks about switching over to my “Infinite Summer” idea - getting covers done for Miss Haye’s book and the one Tiffany is working on with Miss Yeboah. Somewhere between marketing campaigns, hiring models, deadlines, and the summer solstice, my heart gets bored of my chest and starts pounding next to my brain.

By the time I leave the meeting amidst Tiffany’s whispers to Scarlet (“You know it’s not you that’s the problem right…?”) I’m walking through a haze.

I just need to finish marking my edits for this chapter and then I’ll call that a day.

I still have to figure out how to send my new notes to Miss Haye without starting a war, but I’ll put that off until tomorrow, so it won’t feel like I’m dogpiling her with corrections.

I am doing this right. 

I have to tell her what she doesn’t want to hear now so she won’t have to hear it later. As long as I just give her the bald facts, I’m doing my job. 

I’ll be okay.

Still, I find myself trying to figure out how to sugarcoat the bald facts into an easier pill to swallow than I ever am.

I stare at the blank screen and try to conjure some rigamarole that sounds Avis-y.

“Ms. Walker?”

Angie’s face and hair fade into view as I glance up, realize I’m squinting, and try to relax the heavy crease in my forehead.

She’s not going to talk until I say something, is she?

“Did you need something, Miss Meng?”

“Oh, yeah,” She smiles a little nervously, slipping a strand of short hair behind her ear, that becomes untucked again the second she tilts her head, “I was just wondering if you could review my line edits for me before I send them to Haydee Lay?” 

“Ohhh, those,” I stop myself before I can sigh, and smile as treacly as I can.

Don’t be a jerk, Essence. 

It wouldn’t kill me to help the girl out when she always looks to me of all people for help. 

Maybe, she just finds Tiffany’s energy overwhelming - 

-Do normal people find energy overwhelming, or is that just one more thing that’s wrong with me?-

And it’s no good trying to go to Scarlet for help unless you can sign or are patient enough to use text. Avis is always busy…

“Yeah, sure, I can look over them for you.” 

I start to hold my hand out before I remember it’s all digital and just press my knuckles to my temple. “Just email me the file.”

“Thanks a million,” Angie smiles, resting her hand on her heart. She looks about ready to go but remembers something else as I start packing up my things to head home.

“Um, concerning the new author, you’ll be starting with tomorrow…” 

She’s waiting for me to look at her again before she finishes her statement, so I glance up and watch her bite her pinkened knuckle.

“Will I be allowed to help with that project, considering that she’s my older sister?”

“Should be fine,” I say quickly, slipping my laptop into my bag. 

As an afterthought, I realize that might have sounded a little short, so I add casually, “It’s not like it’s a competition or anything, so I don’t see why it would be a problem.”

Angie’s face lights up even brighter, if that’s possible, as she laughs cheerfully.

“Oh good. I was so hoping I’d get to work with you both on this one. It’s her debut book, you know. We were so excited when Book Bug agreed to work with her…”

She’s collected her own things off her desk and is following me to the elevator now, her sneakers padding softly on the carpeted floor like mouse’s feet.

“We’ve been hoping for this since like, forever. We always used to talk about her becoming an author when we grew up, and we thought it would be great if we could work for the same company, even if it was only for one project. She’s always been obsessed with writing, but I was more of a nerdy analyzing type, so we thought that if I worked as an editor, we could make a ‘dynamic duo.’”

“Mhm,” I say as I push the button for the first floor. I look over my shoulder and kind of smile down at her, so it won’t sound like I’m ignoring her, but honestly, even a conversation as monologish as this saps my energy reserves that were already as good as empty.

“You haven’t gotten to see the manuscript yet, right, Miss Walker?”

“No.”

Every time it gets a little harder to make myself open my mouth.

My whole body aches.

“Oh, you’ll love it.”

“Oh?”

It would be rude to say that I doubt that. 

Mom always says I should give people the benefit of the doubt but…

It’s not them. It’s never been them. It's me.