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“I do.” Vic pauses, and I watch my messages load up.
Marketing
Q4 Social Roundup
Hi Team! Wanted to share EOY numbers with everyone, as…
Excalibur Park
Meatless Monday
Did you hear about our exciting Meatless Monday optio…
Jerry Lake
EOY Departmental Revenue Reports
Good morning, please see the attached by-department rep…
“Have you thought about asking Fitz to go look at the venue?” I whirl around in my seat, facing Vic completely.
“I have zero intention of putting myself in a room with him again until the reunion, if I can help it. He’s supposed to send the group his assistant’s information.” Vic shrugged, taking another long sip of coffee, eying me.
Vic nearly had just as much reason to be apprehensive about Fitz as I did. He was a victim of Andy’s wrath in high school, sometimes more than I was, just for being gay, and I wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d been understandably protective of me, like I would be for him. But when I’d told him about my encounter with everyone at the first reunion planning meeting, he’d swiftly reminded me of the work I’d done to face all of my resentments, even the ones I’d had toward him - because there had been some that I’d had to work through with my sponsor.
“Just a thought. Might get done faster if you’re not waiting on him to get his shit together.” I ponder the idea, scrolling through more emails until I feel a presence behind my back.
“Happy Monday,” Brianna’s voice comes out as a slow drawl, and I turn around to face her, plastering a smile on my face.
“Happy Monday!” we trill together. There is nothing happy about Mondays. Mondays can go die a slow, painful death at the bottom of the Trinity River. But Brianna, in her pant-suited, black-loafered glory, is not somebody I can say that to.
“Did you two look at the end of year revenue reports?” she asks, leaning casually against the other wall of my cubicle as if we’re best friends. It’s not that I dislike Brianna. Ok, I do. But that was mostly because nearly every conversation I had with her ended with being told to tame down my designs. To think more inside the box. To look at spreadsheets and numbers and build on current, popular designs instead of doing what I really want - make something spectacular.
“Yes,” Vic pipes in before I can, and I’m glad he saves me from telling the truth - that I’d just rolled in after a night of drowning my post-date sorrows in a pint of Halo Top, half a season of True Blood, and a stint of leather-tooling that left my hands sore.
“Good.” Brianna holds her china coffee cup up to her face, seemingly thinking before taking a sip. “I’m sure you saw that we’re below our EOY goals by 12%.”
“I did see that.” His tone is measured. “But, I mean, after Roger-"
“I thought we discussed that we weren’t going to talk about that again,” she says, her voice now also devoid of emotion, like she’s trying not to let anyone, including us, know that she’s upset.
Roger might as well be the other they-who-shall-not-be-named in my life. Talking about the former member of our team, who left after about six months of struggling to fit in here. Flamboyant, extroverted, and opinionated, we got along swimmingly, but Texas is a difficult place to live when you’re out and loud. I’m only loud, and I have a hard enough time finding good people to tolerate my lack of volume control.
Since moving to L.A. with his partner last fall, his position has been vacant, leaving our team scrambling to pick up the pieces after what we’d hoped would be a productive end to the last year.
Brianna seemed to regain her composure, straightening her suit jacket a little.
“We need something fresh for the winter line,” she says finally. “Something…whimsical.” I turn back to my computer, opening up a document to take notes. “I’m thinking, icy fairy, maybe…Ooh!” She stands up straighter, pointing at us. “Elsa!”
I turn my head toward Vic, who's doing a much better job of hiding his horror than I am. I type away, squelching the nausea that rolls. Yuck.
“Sure thing,” I say, and wheel around to face her.
“I want rough sketches by the tenth of next month.” She taps her finger on her chin, her green eyes searching. “Let’s say…15 per person. We can whittle down from there.” I stare at her. Our team was tiny but mighty - with just a few more outside of Vic and myself, plus an intern - but not that mighty. Between active revisions for our fall pieces, finalizing our summer launch, and that, I won’t even have time to sleep.
Not to mention the reunion.
“We can do it,” Vic says, though after knowing him for two decades, I can tell his tone is less than authentic. I feel him put a reassuring hand on my shoulder as I try to ensure my face doesn’t give my emotions away. Without another word, Brianna turns on her loafers and walks away, leaving me to put my elbows on my desk, rubbing my temples.
