The Checklist, Addie Woolridge [ebook reader for pc and android txt] 📗

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Text copyright © 2021 by Alexandra Massengale

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Published by Montlake, Seattle

www.apub.com

Amazon, the Amazon logo, and Montlake are trademarks of Amazon.com, Inc., or its affiliates.

ISBN-13: 9781542029278

ISBN-10: 1542029279

Cover design and illustration by Liz Casal

To the wolves who raised me, thank you.

CONTENTS

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

CHAPTER ONE

“Sorry about the death sentence.”

Dylan looked up from the document she was scanning, a little startled to find Kahn MacElroy, notorious Kaplan and Associates office gossip, looking down at her from over her beige cubicle wall.

“I’m sorry?”

“Oh. You haven’t seen the email?” Kahn asked, pity dripping from his lips.

If there was an email with bad news in it, especially bad news for her, it must have been sent in the last five minutes. Dylan was religious about checking her email.

“Nope. Just here reading these briefs. Prepping for the Les Enfants project.” She kept her smile neat.

“You’ll want to read this email.” He shrugged.

Dylan hated the fact that Kahn knew something she didn’t. But she couldn’t look with him there.

“I will, eventually,” she said, turning her attention back to the document and summoning all her willpower to wait Kahn out.

“I’ll leave you to it.” Kahn’s tone was less sympathetic once he realized he wouldn’t get the inside scoop.

Dylan waited until the olive green of his sweater rounded the corner before furiously wheeling her chair over to her screen.

To: All Associates

From: Jared Gilroy

Subject: Congratulations, Dylan Delacroix!

In light of Dylan’s unplanned leadership on the Davis Communications project, it is with great excitement that I announce her placement with me on the Technocore team. Her quick thinking and willingness to step in when the Davis project was off-track produced one of the best corporate turnarounds Kaplan saw last year. I’m confident Dylan has what it takes to turn Technocore around. Be sure to stop by her desk before Friday and wish her good luck on this next assignment.

Jared Gilroy

Junior Partner

Kaplan & Associates—Helping your company get results!

Dylan stared at the email, then checked her pulse. No, she wasn’t dead or hallucinating. She swallowed hard and reread the email. Kaplan didn’t usually send out placement announcements before notifying the employee. Surely this was a mistake. She’d saved Jared’s job on the Davis Communications project. There was no way she should have been assigned anything less than Les Enfants in Paris. Everyone at Kaplan knew the further you climbed, the better the assignment. She had been practicing with a French tutor for weeks.

A muffled thunk thunk on her cubicle wall made Dylan jump, interrupting her third reading of the email. Barb Maisewell stood in the entrance, looking genuinely perplexed. Her suits were always frumpy, and her insistence on wearing maroon didn’t help, but Dylan liked Barb. She was one part office mother, one part gossip mill. You’d think that as head assistant to the elusive Mrs. Kaplan, she’d be discreet, but Barb was the exact opposite. If she liked you, Barb would tell you whatever she heard about you from the top brass. She was half the reason Dylan had bought that stupid, expensive French Rosetta Stone subscription.

Barb opened her mouth, sympathy puckering her face. “Technocore, huh?” Dylan didn’t say anything, so she plowed on. “Jared must be really bitter about you making him look bad with the Davis thing. I heard rumors about you and Paris just last week. Wonder what changed?”

“I’m sure there is a mix-up. In fact, I was on my way to meet with Jared now.” Dylan tried to appear as if talking to her weasel-faced boss had always been her plan.

Barb looked at her as if she were a tad delusional, ignoring Dylan’s attempt to salvage the situation. “Honey, if I don’t see you, have a great time in Seattle. Technocore is . . . well, it’s a challenge. But I know you can do it.”

After giving her a quick hug, Barb scuttled toward the kitchen, probably to gossip with someone else about Dylan’s assignment. Dylan stood up, then took a moment to straighten her untwisted hem and check for any flyaway hairs, carefully smoothing her center part, before walking toward Jared’s office. It wouldn’t do to appear unprofessional. If there was any trait Kaplan and Associates could count on, it was that Dylan was always professional.

Taking a controlled breath, she knocked on the office door. After a few heartbeats, Jared’s familiar nasal invited her in.

“Hi, Jared. I saw the announcement. Did I miss something?” Dylan kept the anger out of her voice as she sat down, uninvited. Across from her was the biggest pastel-wearing asshole she knew. Unfortunately, Jared was also her direct supervisor and the one person standing between her and a chance to make junior partner before the end of the year. She waited for him to answer, registering a boost in his uncomfortably healthy glow. It was the kind of tan some white people got from playing lots of tennis in the sun. Only, Jared acquired his through a tanning booth.

“Right. The partners suggested I go, but I really feel Technocore is perfect for you.” He smiled, his teeth the same unnerving shade of white as the walls, as if he were handing her a compliment and not the career death sentence Technocore was. In the last six months, the company’s hapless founder had made every unforgivable management gaffe known to man and even a few new ones that had surprised both Dylan and the press.