I glance down at my notes.
OK, time to speak from the heart!
But where is my heart? It’s currently sinking to the bottom of the ocean.
The whole reason I was gunning for this new job was because I wasn’t happy with the terms of my current one, but now they’ve been renegotiated. Eric, however, is working for a snake who has never had his best interests in mind. If I win this and Eric stays at Ignite, he’llnever have the relationships and respect he deserves. Despite everything, his options are limited. If I lose this, I know I’ll be fine. I know I have value beyond Susie, Fate and Catch Group. If I win this, I will have deserved it, but I don’t think I’ll be happy.
“In conclusion,” I repeat, swilling the words around my tongue until they turn sweet, “you should give this role to Eric Bancroft.”
“Excuse me?” Suma’s eyebrows shoot up and hide behind her fringe as she leans forward and checks her papers. “Isn’t that the next candidate?”
She turns to Catcher for confirmation. My stomach turns to lead but I’m not nervous. In fact... this is the least nervous I’ve been all day.
“Yes. It is,” I confirm.
Catcher holds his top lip in his teeth, trying to mask his frustration as he keeps his fiery stare fixed on me.
Sensing an explanation is needed I clear any remaining hesitation from my throat and clarify, “He deserves this job. He’s talented, passionate and smart. He’s the reason we were even able to get in the door with our biggest partners.” I gesture to the collage of logos floating on the screen. “You should give this role to him,” I repeat for emphasis to the knitted brows staring dumbfounded from across the table.
“You realize what you’re putting on the line right now?” Catcher looks at me in complete disbelief.
“Yes.” I lift my chin and answer as assuredly aspossible because I don’t think I’ve ever been so sure about anything in my life.
“OK,” he accepts. “That will be all. Thank you, Grace.”
He glances at the door, gesturing for me to get out before I waste any more of their time. He sits back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thick sausage fingers. The investors to his sides are leaning in, no doubt to discuss the ramifications of my unexpected towel-throwing.
For a moment my body goes stiff. Maybe that was the wrong way to do it. I should have just bombed the entire presentation and then they would have automatically given it to him. I shake the thought from my head. I shouldn’t have to make myself look weak to champion someone else. I know I’m enough, I know where I belong and I know what I deserve. I’ll be fine. Ignite is slowly destroying Eric and he doesn’t believe he deserves any better. Even if he never speaks to me again, I want to do this for him more than I want this job.
The only thing I can think to say as I leave is “Thank you for your time.”
Catcher spits out a laugh and I run to the door, dumping my cue cards in a rubbish bin as I exit.
Do you ever get that feeling where you’re drunk on your own decisions? Those few moments of exhilaration and relief when you finish a roller-coaster ride designed to have your heart in your throat?
That’s how I feel, stepping out of Catcher’s office into the quiet hallway. As if I need to scream the final slivers of raw feeling out of me until I’m completely empty. A clean slate. Free of emotional baggage and ready for whatever life throws at me.
34
Eric’s presentation is scheduled straight after mine. It was a small miracle I didn’t see him as soon as I left the meeting room. When I arrive at my desk my whole body starts to sweat. I should get out of here, and go get some air before I end up bumping into him somewhere in the building.
The consequences of my actions slowly dawn on me. Did I seriously just give up my dream job for a guy? Am I going to be shunned from the gates of feminist heaven for this bullshit? I swallow the dryness in my throat.
Maybe I should go back and rescind my statement. Beg them to give me a second chance. We all make mistakes! Spur-of-the-moment gut decisions that end up being completely idiotic, right?
The elevator flows with people heading out as if it’s a normal day. It probably is for them. Their agenda so far includes “go to work,” “catch up on emails,” “attend a meeting” and “go grab an overpriced sandwich.” Not “pour your blood, sweat and tears into a fucking good job presentation then self-sabotage so hard yournervous system feels like loose change clanging around in a pocket.” As others start to occupy the lift, I pull out my phone and begin to type out a message. Something casual likeHow did it go?orSo how did they tell you you’re the new Marketing Lead of Ditto? In skywriting or one of those giant novelty checks?
I press delete and watch the letters evaporate into the humid, breathy air of the elevator.
More and more Catch Group employees filter in: some I recognize, giving them a polite smile as though I didn’t just blow up my life. The doors slide closed, inches from touching as a hand slams around one of the metal slabs, triggering the doors to reopen with a cheerful ding. I look up and lock eyes with Eric and his unreadable face. His jaw goes taut as his eyes latch on to mine. He must have been in his interview for maybe ten minutes tops. Did they just offer him the job on the spot?
Eric turns around to face the front like everyone else, something I’ve never thought of as unusual until right now. The lift bundles down a couple of floors, stopping to add even more sardines to our tin. Whoever thought of the stuck-in-an-elevator trope in romance novels must be rolling in their literary grave right now.
The mass exodus of bodies into the lobby moving in the same direction lulls me into a false sense of security until Eric turns around and spots me at the back of the crowd. I veer right and keep moving over the main lobby floor. I can’t stop. Interacting with him before we’re officially told he has the job will just be too hard,and trying to predict his reaction to what I’ve done leaves the plains of my imagination completely barren.
He catches up to me, placing a warm palm on my back and gently steering me away from the flow of the crowd. Eventually, we stop, his hands on my arms. Up close, the shadows under his bright eyes are more pronounced than I’ve ever seen them. His face twists as though he can’t quite get the words out.
A lance of unease pierces my chest. OK, this seems bigger than the interview.
