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“It’s so great that you’re here! Are you just coming in to get some stuff? I thought Stroker was letting you work from home for a while.” He checks behind him before he makes his customary jerk-off gesture.
“Thanks. He was; he is—”
“Who’s dealing with the Darcy account? Are you still presenting? I checked out the PowerPoint. I hope you don’t mind.”
Charlene puts a hand up in front of his face. “Calm your balls, Jimmy.”
He drops a hand to his crotch. “What? I haven’t seen Vi in, like, a week. I’m being a good friend.”
“You didn’t even ask her about Alex.”
“How is Alex? I’ve been watching all the news and stuff, but some of that is probably skewed, right? He’s not really out for the rest of the season.” His voice rises instead of lowers at the last question.
I should’ve known I would get this, but it still throws me. Alex hasn’t done any interviews yet. He wants to wait until his face isn’t quite so banged up.
I don’t get to answer because Mr. Stroker’s bald head appears at the top of my cubicle wall. “Violet, can I see you in my office?”
“Of course, Mr. Stroker.” Charlene and Jimmy get out of the way so I can follow him to his huge, comfy office at the far end of the hall.
He gestures to one of the plush chairs, where I sit. Instead of sitting behind his desk, he takes the one across from me and steeples his hands. “I’m not going to ask you how you are, because I’m pretty sure I already know the answer.”
“I appreciate that.” I’m not thinking it requires more of a response.
“Are you sure you want to present to the Darcys today?”
“I’m sure.”
“You know it’s just a formality at this point. They’re very much set on having you manage the accounts.”
“Well, that’s good to know, but I think it’s best for me to present. It’s an experience I don’t have yet.”
“You have lots of experience presenting, Violet. You do it every week at our meetings.”
“This is different.” I tap the arm of the chair with my nails. They need to be redone in the worst way. I had to touch up all the chips last night before I went to bed so I didn’t have cheap-hooker hands today.
Mr. Stroker regards me for what seems like forever, but is most likely only about ten seconds. Still, it’s a long time since I’m trying not to fidget, or get emotional. And my stomach is not happy.
He slaps his hand on the arm of the chair, startling me. “Okay then, meet me in the conference room in five minutes, and we’ll have a quick brief before they show up. Sound good?”
“Sounds great.” This is what I need. Business as usual. A reminder of why I want to be here, doing this job I don’t actually need.
I head back to my cubicle with purpose, a smile plastered over my cheeks. Gathering up my notes, I check my face in the little mirror beside my computer. I look tired but otherwise okay, and go directly to the conference room to set up.
I’ve got my PowerPoint ready by the time Mr. Stroker arrives. It’s already twenty to ten. The Darcys will be here soon. Stroker and I have been over the whole proposal already—not face-to-face, but through email—so I’m feeling okay about it.
This isn’t a social visit, so I’m less nervous than I would be at, say, a work function, or my own engagement party. Which the Darcys attended and witnessed my hives outbreak. It hasn’t deterred them so far, so I guess it couldn’t have been as bad as I’m remembering it.
I click through the slides and give Mr. Stroker a brief overview. I have three left to go when we get the call letting us know they’re here.
“It’s game time,” Mr. Stroker says.
I meet the Darcys in the waiting room. Bunny folds me into a tight hug. Her boobs are hard and unyielding. I’m now certain they’re not real. Or her bra is made of steel. I can feel her nose against my neck. When she pulls back, she gives me one of those sympathy smiles. It’s not really a smile, but it’s not really a frown. It’s more like a frile, or a smown. She’s definitely had some surgery on her face, as her eyebrows don’t move at all when her expression changes. It’s a little unnerving.
“How are you? How’s Alex?”
“He’s okay. The doctors have him resting, and you know how that is.” God, I sound like a wife. A hockey wife.
Bunny gives me a knowing smile and winks, but her eye only closes halfway. “These boys are so hard to keep down, aren’t they?”
“They sure are.”
I left him tenting the sheets this morning in his sleep. But I don’t think that’s what she means, or maybe it is.
