“I don’t know, to be honest. Just sort of wound up here.” It’s not a lie but it’s not the full truth either.
“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?”
“Other than the global warming crisis?” Jade levels me with a glare, and a frown marring her full lovely mouth. I paste on a smile, glancing up at where she’s standing above me.
“I can’t help if you won’t be honest with me. How can I make this team a success—you, a success—if I don’t know the issue?”
“Are you always this serious? I’m concerned for your blood pressure, boss.” My smile grows wider, and I lean back on the palms of my hands. Her gaze flits down to mymouth briefly, brow furrowing, before it shifts and settles on a spot off to the side of it.
She looks me square in the eyes, that spot of blue surrounded by deep topaz holding me in its snare. “The loss wasn’t your fault. It was the first game back; it could have been anyone's match. We’ll review the footage and adjust our strategies accordingly.”
Maybe she’s right, but my brain can’t catch up to what she’s saying, and I don’t like that she’s reading me so easily. All I do is nod in response.
“You really won’t talk to me?”
“I’ll talk to you about whatIwant to talk to you about,” I say, wanting the topic to be off me and my failures.
“And what’s that?” She crosses her arms over her chest, and I try my best to keep my gaze from wandering to the open neckline of her blouse.
I lift a brow and suck my lower lip between my teeth in answer.
“No.”
Back to one word answers, I see.
“Because we can’t talk about what never happened, right?” I hold her stare in challenge.
“Right.”
I sit upright, and my hand falls so my finger grazes her foot. She jolts at the infinitesimal touch as if on fire, before she steps back. "Well, if you decide to pull your head out of your ass long enough to talk to me about what’s bothering you, I have an open door.” She turns to walk away.
“That sounded like an HR violation,” I call after her.
“Then call them and complain.” She shoots over her shoulder. I don’t think I'm imagining the slight curve at the corners of her mouth.
As she walks away, I allow myself to look my fill, imagining the extra sway in her hips is for my benefit. And for the first time since I stepped into Knightsbridge today, the small smile on my face isn’t forced.
The last fewdays have passed by in a blur of waking up early to shoot, mornings at Knightsbridge, lunches spent with a realtor looking at storefronts because Jaded’s investors want a brick and mortar where I’m based, and evenings spent at the stadium making calls to local vendors and contractors. But the work still isn’t done, because once I’m home, all that awaits me is more work and more responsibilities. I’m practically glued to my phone, a thrall to the almighty Zoom.
Maxine had several choice words for me on our last debrief, not hesitating to inform me how much I’ve slacked off in the few weeks since I moved here.
I was loath to admit it, but she wasn’t wrong. It’s been a lot harder to juggle than I thought it would be. Being present one hundred percent in every aspect of my life is no easy feat. There’s nowhere I can let the ball drop, and wearing multiple hats between two continents is already starting to wear me down. And the constant pressure to keep up with my social media felt frivolous in the face of everything else I handle on a daily basis. The one place I’ve allowed myself to lag is online. I didn’t think it would be noticeable, that is until Maxine happily informed me that my analytics were dropping. I know I have to post consistently—create approachable, fresh media for peopleto consume just to stay relevant enough for them to care about me and myinfluence—I’m starting to detest that word—enough to want to shop my brands. But I’m not sure I’m entirely likable.
Successful? Yes. Smart? Yes. But likable?
It’s a hard thing to believe when everyone who’s ever been moderately close to you would say otherwise. Brendan always said I was cold—hard to love, I believe he said during a particularly rough patch.
“All you care about is work, Jade!”
“What else is there to care about?” I volley. Brendan’s head rears back as if I’ve struck him. “I didn’t mean it like that,” I try to correct myself. It’s not all I care about, but it is my whole world, I don’t know how to make room for anything else.
“Yes, you did.” He shakes his head, dipping it low. “I used to try to convince myself it didn’t matter. Our relationship started off unconventional, but we made the best of it. Our sex life was good, so I thought I shouldn’t complain. But lately, I feel like I’m talking to a robot. You’re not an easy person to love, Jade. Take away your beauty and your success, and what are you left with?”
No, I don’t think I’m likable. How could others like me when I’m not even sure I do?
They like the fabricatedideaof me, covet the lifestyle I exude, but what else do I offer the world outside of an aesthetic? Outside of alie. And itisall a lie, because at the end of the day, I come home, and the one thing I know will be waiting for me when I step through the door is my career and mountains of paperwork.
Sometimes, I wish I could ignore it all, just shut off my brain and not think about it ever again. Even a day would be a relief. But I don’t know my life without a two ton workload.
