“What the–?”
“Some bullish ones think it’ll get announced mid-June, others think you won’t know ‘til mid-July. I’m the only one going with the Fourth of July.”
Orchid groaned, out loud this time. “What’s going to happen to whoever loses?”
“There’s a pool for that, too. The money’s on whether the person who doesn’t get the assignment will resign. And how quickly.”
Funny to hear these dire predictions delivered in Violet’s bubbly voice.
“Can you just call this whole thing off?”
Violet laughed. “No way! It’s half the reason I get out of bed and come to work every day.”
“Well, at least come to dance class one-night next week and fill me in on all the deets,” said Orchid.
Violet pushed through the bathroom door. “Sure thing. Ta-ta,” she called, as the door swung closed behind her.
Orchid searched her brain for a slam dunk to bolster her chances. Beyond her own personal reasons for pursuing the assignment, she did not need a public work humiliation.
Eschewing a bathroom break, she headed to her laptop to type out an urgent note to her mentor. “Phoenix, I’d love to show you the brief,” she typed, and hitSendbefore she could change her mind.
Violet arrived at her desk, popping into her field of vision as purple poof and cheer. “I’m heading out. Are you staying late tonight?”
Orchid checked her phone. It was after five. “Yeah, I’m working on hacking the pool.”
Violet’s face split wide with glee. “No can do. The head of cybersecurity’s administering this one.”
Orchid tossed her phone onto her desk in surrender. “Is every last person in on this?”
Violet tilted her face towards the sound-deadening tiles of their office ceiling. “Nope. We had to keep Joan out. We didn’t want to sway her decision.” And then she waved and whirled out of Orchid’s office. “Thanks for the entertainment!”
Orchid lacked the time, or the inclination, to formulate a snide comment.
Her phone screen lit with a call from a name that took her aback, even though she shouldn’t have been surprised. “Phoenix?”
“How are you?” came his low baritone.
“Um, good. You’re calling me. How are you?”
“In the middle of pitch hell. But you texted so, yeah, I’m calling. You good?”
“Yes and no. I can’t wait to show you the brief. But then there’s this office pool. My colleagues are betting against me getting the assignment.”
Phoenix chuckled, sounding less like the agency head who’d initially called and more like the kindhearted caregiver she’d last seen at the beach. “Office pool?”
“It’s awful. Just mortifying,” Orchid complained.
“You just want to avoid being embarrassed? I would’ve hoped it’d be about the quality of work.”
Phoenix and his standards. Growing up a judge’s son would embed high morals. “Of course the work matters. Which is why I reached out to you.”
“You want to email it to me? I’m working late anyway.”
“Email? Let’s video. I’d appreciate practicing presenting the work.”
“Okay, I’m starving so just give me fifteen minutes to dredge up instant ramen or something from the kitchen, then I’ll be back at my computer.”
“Instant ramen? I’ll tell you what. Let me come by with real food and I’ll pitch you live.”
