All week, she has braced for trouble. For Erika wanting to “chat” about her decision. For a meeting with HR about a demotion or pay cut. Yet work continued as usual, and she’d begun to feel foolish for expecting a penalty. It’s a promotion, for God’s sake. They were hardly going to punish her for refusing it.
Then today came, and she realized they’d been giving her time to change her mind. But she’s shown no signs of budging, so it’s time to give her a shove.
It’s after seven when a rap sounds on her door, and she looks up to see Erika.
“Yep, I’m officially here to talk you into a last-minute reconsideration,” Erika says before Vivienne gets a word out. “But unofficially, I just really want a drink.”
Vivienne arches her brows.
Erika continues. “I have to show the board I’m taking you aside for a girl-to-girl chat. But you’ve made up your mind, and I understand why—it’s bad timing for your family. I feel bad because I’m the one who recommended you, back before…your daughter.” She inhales and then says, “I’m not going to push. I just need to fake it or we’ll both get reprimanded. So we’re going out for a drink.”
Vivienne lets her gaze drop, briefly, to the bulge under Erika’s blouse. The younger woman sighs. “Okay, I’m not actually going to drink. I’ll get a virgin cocktail, and you’ll let me pretend I’m actually imbibing an alcoholic beverage.”
Vivienne smiles and shuts off her computer.
Theydon’t leave the compound. Vivienne suspects Erika is being watched—to ensure she performs her duty—and going offsite would be suspicious.
Erika drives to the entertainment district and they choose the sushi place. When Erika flashes her executive card, they’re taken to a private dining room before the hostess darts off, promising a sake sampler and appetizers. And, yes, Vivienne does feel a stab of envy at that. But one flash back to Fran Lee’s eyes evaporates the pang. She’s made the right choice.
The sake sampler arrives as a row of tiny glasses. Erika takes a sip from one, savoring it before putting it comically out of reach. Vivienne samples the other three and chooses the one at the end, with the faint flavor of star anise.
They drink and chat and eat sushi as it arrives, two handcrafted pieces at a time. Whenever they hear the swish of the server’s slippers in the hall, Erika talks about work. Is Vivienne happy? How could she be happier? What else could the company do for her? Vivienne plays along. You can never be too careful in the compound.
Soon, though, she’s struggling to focus on the questions. The sake is stronger than she expected, and it’s making her sleepy. Too sleepy. She stares down at the glass.
“The sake,” she whispers, words slurring as she cuts Erika off mid-sentence.
“Hmm?”
She shakes her head sharply. “No. Sorry. I’m being…”
She can’t finish. Can’t complete the thought.
“Vivienne? Are you okay?”
“I…”Don’t overreact. Do not overreact.“I think… Too much sake.” She manages a short laugh. “Been a while.” Her words slur worse, and she blinks hard to keep her eyes open.
“Shit,” Erika says. “You think they drugged the sake.”
“N-no. That’s crazy. They wouldn’t?—”
“Sure they would. Send me to talk to you. Give you something to drink just drugged enough to make you more open to suggestion. The bastards. If that did anything to my baby…” She shakes her head. “Let’s just get you home to bed, and I’ll let them know you were exhausted from overwork, and the sake hit you hard, so we barely had a chance to talk. Maybe that’ll smarten them up.”
Vivienne barely processes what Erika is saying. She wobbles to her feet. Erika takes her arm and leads her to the screen. The hall is empty. It’s late for a weekday, the place emptying fast.
“There’s an exit by the ladies room,” Erika says. “It leads straight to the parking lot. We’ll slip out there. How are you holding up?”
“Marco. I need to call?—”
“We will as soon as you’re in the car. Let’s just get there before you fall over.”
They exit out the rear into the dark lot. Erika opens her passenger door and helps Vivienne inside. Vivienne’s sitting in the seat, looking at her cell phone. It’s not working. Why isn’t it?—
Erika gets in the driver’s seat and hits the locks.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers as she grips Vivienne’s hand.
“Not your fault,” Vivienne slurs.
