With sweaty pits and knocking knees, we lay out our game plan to drag all those other casinos into the cashless era, one agonizing milestone at a time. I can feel my blouse gluing itself to my back with sweat.
The suits, they’re not letting us off easy. It’s an eternal tug-of-war between the creative peasants and the corporate overlords.
“Your rollout plan is sluggish,” Killian drones in his trademark monotone. We counter, warning of the potential risks in rushing.
“Shave off a month,” cuts in Connor Quinn. And back we fire, loaded with data, numbers, and a dollop of despair.
Meanwhile, Andy perches eagerly, ready to be a yes-man to their every inane whim.
When Killian Quinn finally breaks the tension, praising our efforts and calling it a day, there’s a communal exhale of relief. We survived the lions’ den this time.
“Lucy,” Killian commands as everyone else shuffles out. “A word, please. The rest of you are dismissed.”
Great. Just great.
They shoot me pitying looks, relieved it’s not them left alone with the executioner. Even Andy doesn’t look happy as he exits.
It’s just Killian and me now, the silence heavy and ominous. I swallow hard, my fingers fidgeting unconsciously with my bangs.
“I’ll be direct,” he begins. “I’m aware of what transpired between you and JP. Not all the details, but enough.”
I swallow hard, mouth dry.
“If you feel you can no longer work here comfortably, we will make sure you are taken care of. Rewarded generously.”
My palms turn clammy. Is JP trying to get rid of me?
“Are you saying my job is in jeopardy?” I ask, struggling to keep my voice even.
“Not at all,” he says. “Simply that if you wish to leave, we will ensure a smooth transition.”
I force a tight smile. “I’ll think about it.”
He’s not done. “JP wants you to feel comfortable here. If that’s no longer possible, we’ll make your exit a painless one. One that sets you up.”
A buyout. They want to toss cash at me to disappear quietly.
JP wants me gone. That’s what he was alluding to when he said things would change.
The realization lands like a blow. He’s done fighting for me-for us. Now he just wants the “problem” eliminated.
“Where is JP now?” I ask breathily.
“He’s in Vegas. Had business to attend to.”
Vegas. I knew it. His pretty words were nothing but bullshit in the end.
I make my escape on wobbly legs. As soon as I’m out of sight, I slump against the wall, dizzy with anxiety.
This is why I have to do what I’m planning quickly. I need to prove that I’m valued here or it’s years’ worth of work down the toilet.
I stride down the aisle toward Andy’s seat.
“Andy,” I say, the artificial calmness in my voice contrasting the riot of nerves within me. “Can I borrow you for a moment?”
He scowls but waves me into an empty office. “If this is about the situation between you and Mr. Wolfe, HR can help.”
“Oh, it’s not,” I assure him, pulling out my self-evaluation from my bag-that wretched document we all fill with a billion performance markers thanks to HR Helen. “Actually, it’s about this. See, I feel like I’ve downplayed myself the past few years. But the proof is here that I consistently exceed expectations. I’m operating at Lead level, and with the presentation today, I hope you agree I’m ready for promotion.”
I flash him a dazzling smile.
Andy grunts, noncommittal as ever. “We’ll reassess at performance reviews.”
Still smiling, I go in for the kill. “Here’s the thing. I feel my contributions have been undervalued here for a while. So if I’m not promoted by the end of the month, I’m handing in my notice.”
His eyes bulge out. “You’ll what?”
“I’ve loved my six years here, but if there’s no room for growth, then it’s time for me to move on. You understand, right? Opportunities abound elsewhere… Solaris International Hotels & Resorts, for instance, have a rather appealing vacancy in their IT team…”
He inhales sharply, nostrils flaring like he’s trying to suck in the room.
And for the first time since that horrible video of JP surfaced, I feel a smidge of hope.
Lucy
Five days later, I get the email that I’m being promoted. My eyes dance over the email on my phone. So the winning recipe was 30 percent talent, 30 percent hard work, and 30 percent backbone.
Good thing I don’t work in accounts. Apparently, my math is a bit off.
“What’s got you smiling?” Priya asks, leading me to her spare room.
I share the news of my promotion, my plan paying off. She envelopes me in a warm hug. “See? Life’s not so bad.”
I force a smile, but it’s brittle and false. Sure, life’s looking up, but deep down, I’m shattered. My nights are filled with insomnia as thoughts of JP invade my mind. He’s the first thing I think about when I wake up. I haven’t seen him since the day outside the elevator.
He’s back in Vegas. The ever-chatty office gossip asserts that he’s there for good. Matty managed to glean a bit of information about JP’s location from a girl in marketing. The word is, JP has been a steady fixture in the casinos every evening. Ruling his empire.
Priya pirouettes in the center of the room like a kid. “Well, what do you think?”
I take it in-modest but homey. Only a bed for now, but I can already picture my possessions scattered about. A breeze drifts in through the open window.
“It’s perfect,” I say, and I mean it.
She pulls me into another hug. “Welcome to your new home, roomie.”
Yesterday, I tackled the apartment issue head-on. Deciding to put it up for rent. Turns out there’s at least a rental market for living above a sex shop. The rent’s enough to cover the mortgage until I conjure a permanent fix. For the time being, I’m shacking up with Priya, an arrangement I’m genuinely thrilled about. If I survived living with Spider, I can handle living with my best friend.
Priya squeezes my shoulder and tells me she’ll give me “space,” and thank fuck for that because I’ve needed nothing but space lately.
With a heaviness I can’t shake, I collapse onto the bed and begin to unzip my bag. Amid the everyday detritus-my phone, keys, wallet, an absurd number of coffee receipts-lies my secret torment, the pieces of the past I can’t bring myself to abandon. The photos JP gave me. Our shared moments, frozen in glossy 4×6 rectangles. For days, I’ve been this way, masochistically thumbing through them, only to hastily shove them back into the safety of my bag.
The one on top is like a punch to the gut. Central Park. A selfie with his strong arm wrapped around me, my lips pressed to his scratchy cheek. He’s wearing a baseball cap and he looks so handsome. There’s a picnic basket in the background. I look undeniably smitten, the proverbial cat that got the cream.
I don’t know why this photo hits me the hardest.
My eyes well up, the happiness in our faces too stark a contrast to my current reality. I turn it over.
Here’s to new beginnings. New beginnings without JP. My throat tightens painfully.