“Whatever… I want to like him.”
“Why? Because you can’t keep providing free labour for someone you hate?”
“I get paid…”
“Not enough for the hours you do. What’s your salary? Let me guess. You’re Head of Marketing but your negotiation skills are lacking.”
“Excuse me!” I scoff, insulted. “Anyway, it’s against HR policy to talk about salaries.”
“Forty,” he says.
“Forty grand?”
“More?” he guesses.
I look back at him with a frown. “What do you earn?”
He faux gasps. “Are you breaking HR policy?Felicity…”
“Don’t be annoying. Just tell me.”
“You really want to know?”
I blink. Do I? I feel like the answer might hurt. I’ve always assumed he was on the same base pay as me. Of course, he earnt bonuses on top of that. One of the perks of being a salesperson. The shit part being all the customer interaction and pimping out of oneself that’s required. It was the way he guessed forty grand… It’s like he knows I earn less than him. But by how much?
“I’m on sixty grand basic, with potential to earn forty per cent on top of that.”
I swallow, looking away into the darkness at the far corner of the tent. I’m not sure what to say, I didn’t expect it to be that bad. I bite my bottom lip. I should end this conversation. Wherever it’s headed, it’s not going to help me. Besides, I don’t particularly want him to know how much I’m on. It feels like a failing somehow.
James cringes at me. He’s noticed my hesitation. “Go on then, your turn.”
“I’m on less,” I say quietly.
James doesn’t say anything, instead he lets the silence linger on, which is somehow more annoying than having a smart comment or two.
I lie back down, staring up at the ceiling of the tent too.
“A lot less?” he finally asks.
I shrug. “More than half what you earn. But not by much.”
He blows out a breath. “No wonder you’re after the promotion.”
I don’t want to say more in fear of revealing myself. I feel somewhat betrayed by this news. How can it be that he earns that much more than me? What did I do wrong?
As if James can hear my thoughts out loud, he says, “Could be that marketing generally earn less. It’s business, but not the ugly part. People actually enjoy it. You can stay in your comfort zone. You don’t have to put yourself out there. Sales is the battle. Marketing is the banquet.”
I’m speechless – annoyed with myself for even asking the question before. Annoyed that James is right and I’m sticking up for someone who clearly doesn’t have my back in return. Someone who has literally all but banished me to the swamp whilst he sits comfortably in his castle.
James must realise I’m not in the mood to talk anymore. There’s a slight shiver running through my limbs, despite trying discreetly to warm myself up. My toes are now numb. I don’t want to talk in case there’s a quiver in my voice – I don’t want James to know I’m struggling. He unzips the tent, leaning up to peer out.
“Hey, Felicity… Take a look at this.”
I roll to the side so I can peer up out of the tent too. He holds the flap open for me. There, in the sky, is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever witnessed in my entire life. My eyes water as I stare up at a vista of stars scattered like sugar in the dark sky. We settle for the night with them twinkling down on us, mesmerised.
*
At some point I must’ve fallen asleep because a voice wakes me. There’s a gentle hand on my shoulder. I startle, sparking awake. “What is it?! Wh-h-ere are we?” I say, a rattle in my voice, my teeth chattering.
