“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.”
