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Derek’s smile gains a sharp edge. “Oh yeah? Which friends? Did you see Lauren and Sophie again?”
There it is. When I started working at Mailbox, it took me longer than it should have to realize that Derek’s interest in me was purely to get close to Mr. Sutton. An embarrassingly long time, if I’m honest.
“Um. No.” I turn back to my screen, shoulders hunched, hoping that Derek will take the hint and leave. After a few awkward seconds of him staring at the back of my head, he raps his knuckles against the doorframe. “Don’t forget the staff meeting at ten.”
I nod, not taking my eyes off the monitor before I fish my yellow noise-canceling headphones out of my desk drawer and slip them over my ears. I drown out the noise of the office with an ambient sound generator and get back to work.
What feels like only minutes later, a tap on my shoulder startles a squeak out of me. “Frankie?” Raj jumps back, hands held up in front of his chest. His mouth moves, but I can’t hear him. I shake my head and realize I still have my headphones on. Raj tries again. “It’s time for the meeting. Derek sent me to get you.”
“Geez, you scared me.” I push my footstool deeper under my desk before standing up. “I’ll be right there.”
Raj walks away but stops in my doorway. “Rumor has it Morgan Edwards is in the meeting. Just a heads up.”
Great. If Morgan Edwards is in the meeting, then Mr. Sutton will be there. And if Mr. Sutton is in the meeting, Derek will be extra Derek-y. I brace myself for the overly chivalrous routine that’s about to happen. Knowing it’s going to happen doesn’t make it feel any less icky and personal space invading, but at least I have warning.
Lauren would be so disappointed in me if she knew how little I put her patriarchy-smashing advice into practice.
It’s not bad advice. It’s excellent, really. But her advice requires a base level of lady balls that I just can’t muster. Maybe it’s being tiny, maybe it’s from growing up as a pastor’s kid in the middle of nowhere, Oklahoma. All I know is that every time I find myself with someone else who has strong opinions, my mind goes blank, and I lose the ability to form complete sentences. Next thing I know, I’m agreeing with whatever they said, with no recollection of how the conversation got there.
My therapist hasn’t said it, but I think she’s waiting for the moment I reveal some long-buried trauma or history of abuse. The way I jump and cower at everything would suggest it. But there’s no reason. I’m just…me.
Maybe I listened to all those Sunday School stories just a little too well.
I follow Raj into the conference room and steal the seat between him and his husband, Manesh. Jackpot. The room is full of quiet chatter as people stroll in and find seats. Derek looks around the room as he enters, frowning when he spots me already seated between the two developers.
It’s not surprising that Mr. Sutton came—this project was his idea, after all. After being inspired by Sophie and her daughter Emma’s childhood illnesses, he came up with a new medical file storage system of note and video storage that allows doctors to leave comments embedded in the files. Raj jokes that it’s medical TikTok, without the social aspect.
“Good morning, everyone.” Mr. Sutton clears his throat as he enters the room, Morgan Edwards on his heels. “I’ll make this as brief as possible.” He strides to the front of the room, the aura of confidence he wears in this building unmistakable. He and Mr. Edwards stop just beyond my chair, near the front of the room.
Morgan, Mr. Sutton’s mentor and the first venture capitalist to invest millions in this company, looks down the table, his eyes resting on me for a moment longer than anyone else. “Is there another chair somewhere? My back’s not what it used to be.”
“Frankie?” Derek, sitting across the large conference table from me, tips his head toward the door. “Do you mind?”
I push back from the table, my stomach hollow. “Thanks, doll.” Morgan takes the chair I offer him with a pat on the hand. I don’t know why I’m surprised. I am still the newest member of the developer team, so it stands to reason that the new girl has to do the dirty work. At least he didn’t pinch my ass this time.
“Thanks, Frankie.” Mr. Sutton nods and gives me a genuine smile of gratitude. I nod back and move to lean against the wall behind my chair, but Derek also pushes back from his seat.
“Here, Frankie. Take mine.” Dammit. I never saw that coming. Now he gets to look like the good guy twice over. I circle the table and slide into his seat, keeping as much space between us as possible, while Mr. Sutton starts the meeting.
I’m aware of Derek standing right behind my chair as the meeting goes on and we work through deadlines for the final phase of development. I struggle to keep my focus on the meeting, the intimidating presence behind me the true focus of my attention.
Every time Derek shifts, I have to force myself not to twitch.
The worst part is, I don’t think he knows what his presence does to me. In that indescribably male way, Derek thinks he’s helping me, sheltering me, looking out for me as my manager. And I don’t have the words to tell him that his solicitousness feels like a threat.
Lauren calls it benevolent sexism—says that he’s infantilizing me, and I should tell him to back off and give me space. How do I know this? Because she’s told me at least a dozen times already. But whenever I’m in the moment, my stupid brain goes blank.
“Frankie, will you wait just a moment?” Mr. Sutton’s question at the conclusion of the meeting has everyone’s head snapping my way, the weight of their stares pushing me deeper into my usurped chair.
I stay seated while everyone else leaves the conference room. Raj gives me a pitying look on his way out the door, patting his stomach with a head nod toward the big picture windows. I lift my shoulders and shake my head, not having an answer to his silent question. He taps his watch, then holds up the five fingers of his hand—he’ll wait five minutes for me to escape before going to lunch. I nod, then stifle a gasp when someone lays a hand on my shoulder.
“You okay?” Derek’s quiet question is hard to hear over Mr. Sutton and Morgan Edwards’s conversation at the front of the room.
“I’m fine. I’m sure it’s nothing.” The hand on my shoulder doesn’t move, the weight of it anchoring me to the spot.
“I can stay if you want me to.” His offer would be nice if I thought for a second it was because of me. But I know he just wants to look good in front of Mr. Sutton. “As your manager…”
A quiet cough cuts him off. “Derek, would you excuse us for a moment?” We both missed Mr. Sutton making his way over to our side of the room. Mr. Edwards waits by the door, a smirk on his face. With a tiny squeeze, he finally releases me and leaves. Mr. Sutton watches him go, head tipped in concentration.
