Her frustrated sigh overrides the quiet.
“It doesn’t matter how many times I tell you this because you’d rather make me out to be the enemy. If I’m the enemy, then you have every reason to tell the board you can’t work with me and therefore they should hire your friend for the position. What you don’t get, Heather, is that you’d benefit far more from being my ally than my enemy. What do you think the board would do if you really pushed them on this? Do you think they would fire me because you don’t get along with me, or do you think they would fire you because you can’t get along with a valued team member who has consistently produced solid, money making ideas?” Her teeth are grinding at this point, but when I say, “Stop,” she does and she pushes her hands out as if there is a tree right in front of her. “I think you’re smart enough to know the answer even if you refuse to verbalize it. Still, I’m serious when I say I don’t want your job. Our positions are supposed to complement each other, not be a rivalry.”
“Complementing each other? Is that what you call taking every chance you get to publicly question my decisions so that everyone knows you have more experience than me? It’s only a matter of time before the board sees that you are perfectly well-equipped to do both jobs and they’ll merge the positions like they did in my old company and then I’ll be shit out of luck.”
Merge positions? Is that what happened in her old job? I always assumed she quit.
Her silence and her lips parted in a shocked O tell me she didn’t mean for me to know this.
I stare at her and feel like so much makes sense now—her insecurity, her need to surround herself with people she trusts, her hostility—and yet, it doesn’t excuse her refusal to accept the olive branch I keep extending. She just keeps repeating the same nonsense, and it makes me wonder if I sounded like that when I was making my excuses.
Just like they did with me, hers are coming from insecurity.
While I feel disregarded because I’m older, Heather feels like she has to prove everything because she’s younger and lacks experience. Such similar scenarios, such different reactions.
“Can we walk and get this damn thing over with already?” she hisses the question and crosses her arms over her chest.
I move the few feet toward her. “Take the blindfold off.”
“Why?” she asks.
“Because if you and I are going to figure this out, it isn’t going to look like a hostage situation.” She stands there like a petulant child. “Take it off,” I order.
She rips the blindfold off and glares at me as she clenches her jaw. “Happy?”
“Look. We can either work together or apart, but I’ll be damned if you think you’re going to run me out of a company I’ve worked at for over half my life. I’ll say it one more time: I don’t want your job. Selling isn’t my thing, but I love figuring out how to put a bow on the damn package to make it pretty for you so you can sell it. When I do well, you do well. So, what you need to ask yourself is how you’re going to suck it up and work with me. It’s either that or find a new job. Got it?”
Heather stands there like a guppy opening and closing her mouth. Without her squad at her flanks, she doesn’t seem to have the balls to respond. The quick barbs are nonexistent, which is just further proof that her age and immaturity are part of the problem.
“I just don’t think that’s going to work.”
“Why?” I take another step toward her, determined to leave this retreat with whatever this is between us solved. “Because you refuse to compromise? Or because you choose to see me as a threat instead of a resource or ally?”
Our eyes meet, hold, and she’s just about to say something when there is a loud noise about a hundred feet to our left. Part shuffling, part branches breaking, and I say the first thing that comes to mind. “Bear.”
“Bear!” Heather screams at the top of her lungs like a petrified child.
Be quiet.
Stay still.
I’m sure it isn’t a bear.
All three run through my mind but before I can say anything, Heather emits
a piercing scream seconds before lunging toward me in sheer terror.
It takes me a second to process that Heather’s clinging on to me for dear life. The same Heather who mocked me for being afraid of bears and told me I should fake it and lead by example is now trembling uncontrollably and babbling incoherently. Even weirder, I’m surprisingly calm.
“It’s okay. Shh. You need to stay calm,” I tell her as I look every which way I can to see if it was actually a bear that made the noise.
But while I can’t see anything, I can hear everything.
The shouts from the men as they barge through the woods toward us, their hero capes flying.
“Blake? Heather?” They shouted over and over.
“Over here,” I shout back.
“Bear!” Heather screams again before suddenly pushing off me a second before the men come into view.
“Are you guys okay?” Testosterone Ted reaches us first, but Slade is right behind him with Harley Hal and one of the activity directors from the lodge. They all look around cautiously, the activity director holding a can of bear spray up toward the trees around us in defense.
“Whatever it was is gone,” Heather says, her hands now shoved into her pockets to keep everyone from seeing how badly they are shaking.
“The way you screamed, I could
