I chug the rest of the coffee and drop the cup into a brushed-steel trash bin, the hollow thunk echoing up from the bottom. No way am I risking repeat performance. Not here. Not on the floor where Judy herself resides.
The door is already open, and the room beyond is all shine and scale. A glossy mahogany table stretches nearly the full length, flanked by plush leather chairs that practically purr luxury. Floor-to-ceiling windows frame the Ouachita Mountains in the distance while the other walls glow with screens cycling through company logos and campaign slogans. I recognize them. I studied them in school, memorized them, admired them, never imagining I’d be standing here on the edge of the room they belong to.
Wendy spots me from the far end and waves frantically, her bright smile a lighthouse beam in this sea of intimidation.
“I saved you a seat,” she calls, patting the empty chair beside her.
“Thanks,” I say and slide into the chair next to her.
The pre-meeting chatter hums along until Judy Hawthorne strides in and every voice dies mid-syllable. She doesn’t ask for attention. She simply takes it. Emerald-green fabric swallows the light, extravagant and bold, puffed sleeves billowing off her shoulders like decorative parachutes, and atop her silver hair sits a feathered hat crowned with three peacock plumes curling over one ear. She looks like she stepped off the set of a period drama and wandered straight into our modern conference room without bothering to change.
“Thank you for joining me this morning,” Judy begins, her voice smooth and commanding. “I’m thrilled to announce that we’ve secured a major client,” she continues. “Beatrice Castellano, the founder and CEO of Étoile Perfumes.”
My heart skips. Étoile is the Hermès of perfumes, a luxury giant whose billboards loom over Times Square and whose ads gleam from the glossy pages of Vogue. Working with them isn’t just exciting, it’s career-defining, the sort of opportunity that doesn’t just open doors, it builds them.
“She’s launching a new line called Timeless Elegance,” Judy says, red-lacquered nails tapping a measured rhythm against the table. “And we’ve been tasked with developing the entire marketing campaign.”
Excitement builds so fast it feels electric, crackling through the room. People straighten in their seats, eyes widening, the mood shifting from corporate boredom to collective hunger in a single breath. Even Wendy, usually so composed, bounces slightly in her chair, like she can’t help it.
“Beatrice reviewed many companies before selecting ours,” Judy continues. “She was particularly impressed with Jake’s RainSafe campaign.”
You’ve got to be kidding me. Jake’s campaign? I cast a glare his way, but he doesn’t so much as move a muscle. Avoid me, will you? Hmph!
All I see is his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows hard. Yeah…he knows how big of a thieving, heartbreaking jerk he is. I’d challenge Judy’s facts if I wasn’t convinced no one would believe me. And I’ve already embarrassed myself plenty. I’ll just have to eat my anger for now.
“To make this interesting,” Judy declares, “I’ve decided to turn it into a friendly competition.”
The atmosphere shifts instantly, the word “friendly” doing nothing to disguise the tension that crackles between us all.
“Two teams will present their campaign ideas directly to Beatrice and myself. The best one wins.” She pauses, her eyes sweeping our faces. “Jake will lead one team, and Tim the other. Gentlemen, you may pick your teams.”
I don’t know why it feels like a setup for disaster, but it does, instantly, like I’ve been yanked back into high school gym class and lined up against the wall, waiting to see which team gets stuck with the uncoordinated mess who couldn’t catch a ball tosave her life. Except this isn’t adolescent dignity on the line. This is my career.
Tim wastes no time. “I’ll take Amanda,” he says smoothly, shooting her a knowing glance that communicates volumes of unspoken history. Amanda preens, her spine straightening with unmasked pride at being first-picked.
Jake picks a long-time employee with unruly hair and a single angry pimple on his chin, a guy I’d noticed earlier this week but haven’t spoken to yet. Their fist bump suggests they’ve worked together in the past.
Tim leans closer to Amanda, and she cups her hand around his ear, whispering something I can’t catch. Whatever it is makes his eyebrows lift with immediate interest. Then his gaze snaps to me, and a smirk tugs at his mouth like he’s just been told a juicy secret.
“We’ll take the rookie—Sarah,” Tim announces, pointing his pen in my direction.
I try to swallow, but my throat suddenly feels desert-dry. They know. They have to know I overheard them earlier, and now they’re probing, testing, trying to figure out exactly how much slipped into my ears. My pulse quickens as paranoia creeps in. This is so not good.
Before I can even untangle the implications, Jake cuts in. “Actually,” he says, voice calm but final, “I’m in charge of training the new hires. It makes sense for them to work on this project under my supervision.”
The conference room stills, and suddenly every pair of eyes is ping-ponging between Jake and Tim. Judy studies them in silence, head tilted like a bird inspecting something strange and possibly edible. Then she gives a small nod. “Fair enough.” Her gaze slides to Tim. “Any objections?”
Tim shakes his head, lips pressed into a thin line. “None whatsoever.”
I’m not sure if working in close proximity to Jake is better than being subservient to Tim and Amanda.
Wendy squeezes my hand under the table, offering a reassuring smile. “At least we’re together.”
I try to smile back, but dread curls in my gut. Better not to dwell on what the next few weeks are going to look like. Better to just… survive them.
“Excellent,” Judy says. “Tim’s team will present first, then Jake’s.”
Amanda, ever the opportunist, chimes in. “Since Jake’s team is mostly new hires,” she leans forward, chin tilted at an angle that accentuates her perfect jawline, “perhaps I should join to even the odds.”
