What if this is finally my chance to tell the truth, no matter what the consequences are?
My leg twitches and I glance at the exit signDramatic Exit, above the door to my right.
“And we’re recording in three, two…”
30.Christopher
Monday
The last place I want to be right now is sitting in this meeting, nursing my wrist. I’ve been pretending that it is the reason I missed last week’s call, even though it was all Alexander’s fault. In fact, everything the last few days has been his fault.
I play with a loose thread from the wristband I picked up from CVS, trying to garner sympathy from the HR representative who is sitting directly across from me in the meeting room, next to Pietro.
“Taking everything into account you’ve outlined today,” the representative says, sliding back the paperwork I got emailed from the hospital, “we’ve decided that a verbal warning is the outcome from this process.”
My shoulders slump and I let out a sigh.
The last thing I needed after the past forty-eight hours is another blow.
“And the Brewed account?” I ask. I turn my gaze to Pietro.
“Given the impact that you not attending Thursday’s meeting had with their team, we are going to keep the accountwith Tony, who managed to save the meeting and stop it from turning into a catastrophe.” Pietro’s body stiffens.
Right, Pietro, say how you really feel.
I can feel the sense of injustice rising inside of me. I’ve been working hard at this company for the last five years, the last three of them here in LA. And because of one slip up, when I was on leave no less, I’ve lost my main account and gotten a verbal warning. But I force myself to swallow it down.
I still have a job to come back to.
I can still live in America.
“Okay,” I say, lowering my head and grabbing the papers. “Thank you for your time today.”
I get up, let myself out of the meeting room, and head back to my desk. Tony and Sara look smug, sitting opposite of each other at their laptops.
Clearly, Tony already knows he’s got the Brewed account, and by proxy, given that he and Sara are definitely fucking, she’ll know too. But I need to play the long game here. I plaster on a smile and act as if everything’s okay, something I’ve been forced to do for two reasons today, and bide my time.
HR works in the best interests of the company, never the employee, and loose lips sink ships. It’s only a matter of time before someone’s loose lips speak to HR about the Tony/Sara ship, and wipes the smug looks off their faces.
“Everything okay?” Tony asks, turning to me.
I meet his gaze through his Harry Potter-framed glasses, then note his patchy stubble, messy hair, and the two-sizes-too-small black T-shirt that reveals a potbelly.
They say you shouldn’t judge a book by its cover, but given that we work in marketing, the cover looks less homeless chic and more homeless geek. And it’s definitely not what you’d expect from an account executive who is working with one of the biggest brands in the world.
“Couldn’t be better,” I say, flashing him a fuck off smile.
Bide your time.
“What are you up to tonight?” Sara asks, getting up from her chair and opening the filing cabinet behind her.
Her short tennis-style dress, provocative to say the least, rides up even further as she bends down to get a folder out of the cabinet. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Tony staring at her like a piece of meat.
“Just a chill one. What about you two? What are you up to?” I ask, reaching for my bag and unplugging my laptop from the charger.
Sara freezes in position. She keeps her back turned away from me, clearly an attempt to hide whatever expression has appeared on her face that will give away what I already know.
“Off to play tennis,” Tony says, twiddling with his glasses.
