I could assume Julietta is being paranoid, but Aaron has always been overwhelmingly honest with me. When he barely knew me, he informed me about Mark’s email when Mark was trying to get me fired and Aaron must have known that carried some risk of getting himself fired.
“I can’t throw away something good just because I’m concerned about other people’s opinions.”
“Oh, definitely not. You should do what you like. People are morons. Their opinions are like cockroaches. Disgusting and indestructible. But my point is that you should just be aware of the repercussions and it wouldn’t hurt to aim for subtlety,” he says. “I’d also be worried about his ex. She’s an angel, of course, but so was Satan and Satan didn’t have as much money as her.”
“His ex?” I ask, feeling dumber and dumber as this conversation progresses.
“Yeah. Alina.” We stare at each other. His eyebrows slowly rise up. “Ohhh. You don’t know who Alina is. I would have thought Mark would have brought her up at some point. They were together for…two years, maybe? For over a year. They must have broken up in the last month because she was here a little over a month ago and they’d seemed happy enough. In the emails he exchanged with Keegan and Rick, he mentioned being with her during his week off and that was right before he came back here. He could have been lying to them. Anyway, my point is that it wouldn’t hurt to be worried about her. Women tend to get angry when they found out their exes have moved on quickly.”
“That sounds more like a human reaction than a womanly one.”
He shrugs. “I only know the perspective as the one who was being raged at. And I wasn’t even dating the woman I was with.” He continues to ramble.
If Mark and Alina are broken up, it’s none of my concern, even if I don’t want to be a rebound. But the information settles uncomfortably in my chest. There is no sign of Alina anywhere in his life. We were together for two days and two nights before he vanished. This woman was in his life for two years and he turned her into a forgotten memory in less than a month. He is capable of not getting attached to people, no matter what happens between them.
I take a sip from my coffee. It burns down my throat. It serves me right for not knowing better.
******
The next morning, the moment I walk onto the fourth floor of 2Resonance headquarters, I am certain I’ve entered heaven.
The billows of heat coming from electric griddles and hot plates, the sound of sizzling bacon and sausages caramelized with syrup, and the aroma of coffee, cinnamon, and recently baked pastries tempts me forward to the buffet and cooking station that has taken over our collaboration workstation.
A crowd of about fifteen 2Resonance employees is gathered in front of the table, while several more are enjoying their food at other sections of the floor. I pick up a slice of the breakfast pizza, some slices of bacon, a cream puff, and a cup of coffee. I settle down at my desk.
Aaron quickly joins me. “Hey,” he says. “I don’t know about you, but I’m about to piss my pants.”
“That sounds like a urology problem,” I say.
“You know what I mean.” He clasps his hands together. “It was nice of the owners to set up this breakfast. T-minus thirteen minutes until the ad goes up, so we might puke everything, but it was still a nice gesture.”
“Why are you so nervous?” I ask. “And why do all of your nervous tics involve bodily fluids?”
“Everyone—" he gestures wildly around the office, “—has put their heart and soul into this ad. And we’re going to war with Tunest, a company that is much more experienced with business warfare. They might have an ace up their sleeve. They must be prepared for some kind of retaliation against their ads.”
“Yeah. They’re prepared for us to attack them directly or attack their accusations directly, which we didn’t,” I say. “They can’t attack us again without looking desperate and fearful of us. Mark and I set it up that way.”
“Oh, you and Mark.” He wiggles his eyebrows. I smack him in the stomach. He keels over, laughing. “Alright. You convinced me. I’ll get some breakfast.”
Before he can move, everyone’s body turns toward the elevator. I watch Mark stride in, looking untouchable in a jet-black suit. It’s strange to think about how he’s touched every part of me, been inside me because now he looks like a man of such high stature, I could never reach him.
Mark stops near the front of the room. There’s only the sound of chewing and a cook’s spatula scraping against a pan.
“I want to thank all of you for working so hard on this ad,” Mark says, his voice only slightly raised. “Before we release the ad, I want every one of you to know how important your work has been. There are those who have worked directly on the project—Zandra, Angela, Roger, Cristina, Eliot, John, Rosie, Patrick, Alesha, Tommy, Craig—but also everyone else who kept 2Resonance going and dealing with some of the backlash online—the other co-owners and I are grateful. You are all vital to our company and we are grateful for your hard work. But words are just words, so all of you will also be getting a $1,000 bonus this month.”
The collage of daytime and nighttime employees all cheer. From what I’ve seen, Mark is a great boss, but part of that is being immeasurably good at convincing everyone that they’re valued and irreplaceable. It makes me wonder if he’s translated this skill to his personal life, convincing women that they’re valued and irreplaceable.
“Enough talking,” Mark says. “Let’s eat.”
Aaron hurries over to the buffet table. I watch him and Mark talk at the table as I nibble on my bacon. When Mark starts walking toward me, his plate covered with a variety of foods, I take a big bite out of the breakfast pizza. He pulls a chair over to sit next to me. He touches the inside of my arm. I tuck my arm closer to my body.
“I thought you said that if future companies cared about who you slept with, you didn’t want to work there,” he says, biting off a huge chunk of his bacon.
I swallow the pizza. “That’s not what I’m worried about.”
“What are you worried about?”
I tear apart the cream puff. I pop half of it in my mouth, chewing carefully. Very carefully. It’s the longest I’ve ever chewed anything, but it doesn’t matter. Mark keeps looking at me, waiting for an answer. I swallow.
