Part 1She Marked My Warning As Read

Labor Day weekend was creeping closer, and the usual pre-holiday hum was vibrating through the office. Everyone was checked out, their minds already on beach rentals or backyard barbecues.

Then there was Jessie. She was the kind of coworker who treated office politics like a blood sport, always wearing a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. She sauntered over to my desk, fluttering the holiday on-call schedule like it was a prize she’d just won.

She pointed to the grid, a faint, smug curve to her lips. "Nicole, honey, such bad luck. Looks like you’re pulling the lion's share of the holiday shifts again. Sorry you have to work so hard."

I glanced at the paper. Out of the five-day break, she’d stuck herself with two days. I had three.

I gave a casual shrug, not letting her see the flicker of annoyance. "It’s fine. Triple pay on holidays means I’m basically getting paid to sit in an empty office and catch up on my Kindle list. More money for me."

Her eyes widened, the gears behind them grinding instantly. I could practically see the dollar signs flashing in her pupils.

She leaned in, her voice dropping to that sickly-sweet register she used when she wanted something. "Nicole, do you really mean that? Because if you’re looking for more hours, maybe you could..."

I didn’t let her finish. I held up a hand, cutting her off mid-sentence.

I knew exactly what she was playing at. Last Labor Day, she’d spun some sob story about a last-minute getaway, then "fell ill" the moment her shift started, leaving her phone off for forty-eight hours. The boss had been livid, and to save the department's reputation, I’d stepped in. I pulled five straight days. I worked myself into a literal collapse, ended up in the ER with exhaustion, and had to take a month of unpaid medical leave just to feel human again.

I wasn't about to be her martyr a second time.

* * *

I looked Jessie dead in the eye and pushed the schedule back toward her. The practiced sweetness on her face curdled.

"Nicole, come on! You can't be serious," she whined, crowding into my personal space. She reached out as if to grab my arm, her voice hitting that high-pitched, performative frequency. "Have a heart! I already found these amazing discount tickets to Cabo. If I cancel now, the fees will eat me alive!"

She blinked rapidly, trying to summon a tear. "And my mom... her health has been so rocky lately. I just wanted to take her to the ocean to clear her lungs. It might be her last chance for a trip like this."

I didn't blink. "Save it, Jessie."

My voice was ice. "Last year it was a 'medical emergency' in San Francisco. You disappeared. You went completely dark—no calls, no texts, nothing. You left me to drown."

I stood up, forcing her to take a step back.

"I pulled five days straight because you decided to play dead. I fainted in the subway on my way home and spent weeks recovering. Did you offer to cover my medical bills? Did you even apologize for the 'inconvenience'?"

Being called out in plain English made her face go blotchy. When she realized the "frail woman" act wouldn't work on me, she pivoted. She turned toward Kevin, the guy in the next cubicle who spent half his day buying her lattes and the other half staring at her legs.

Kevin, right on cue, jumped to her defense. "Nicole, Jesus. We’re all on the same team. Why do you have to be so aggressive?"

He puffed out his chest, looking ridiculous. "She’s got a family situation. If you’re just gonna be home anyway, what’s the harm in helping out? Try having a little empathy."

I let out a sharp, cold laugh. "Kevin, if you’re so worried about your 'work-wife,' why don't you take her shifts? Triple pay. Twelve hundred bucks for two days. Go tell HR right now."

He froze. His mouth opened, then snapped shut. The thought of losing his long weekend was apparently a bridge too far for his chivalry. He turned back to his monitor, mumbling something about "not being authorized for warehouse access," and vanished into his spreadsheets.

The office went silent.

Jessie realized she’d lost the room. She gritted her teeth, the mask finally dropping to reveal a look of pure, concentrated venom. She walked back to her desk, but I saw the way her fingers gripped her bag.

If she couldn't win by asking, she’d win by cheating. I knew she had a backup plan.

The first three days of the holiday were eerily quiet. On the afternoon of the third day, just as the clock was ticking toward five, I made a show of heading to the restroom at the end of the hall. I dawdled, checking my makeup, waiting a full fifteen minutes.

When I walked back to my desk, I saw it.

Lying right in the center of my keyboard was a heavy ring of brass keys—the master set for the high-value inventory warehouse. Tucked under the keys was a neon-pink Post-it note in Jessie’s loopy, performative handwriting:

"Nicole! Thank you SO much for agreeing to cover for me after all! You're a literal lifesaver! I left the keys here for you. Have a great shift! xoxo"