Everything hurts being this close to him, my limbs, my heart, my chest. Part of it is still recovering from sleeping on the ground for three nights and nearly getting drowned in a river, but I’m certain some of it’s also from being in close proximity to him. I’m sure at some point it will return to normal. I’ll hardly feel a thing. Maybe he’ll do something to really piss me off in this meeting and we can go back to the way it was before.
Michael comes in, his usual jubilant smile on his face. I’ve never wanted to punch someone harder. I notice James move in the corner of my eye. He clenches his hand into a fist, leaving it to rest on top of the table.
“Good morning, team,” Michael says.
I can’t even look at him. Instead, I doodle on my notepad.
“I want to start by congratulating James and Fliss for their brilliant efforts team building last week.”
I’m speechless. I should be kicking off. I want to, but my mum’s advice thrums on loop in my head:you’ll regret making a rash decision.
Will I, though?Right now it feels like I should scream and storm straight out of here, smashing a few glass dividers as I go. Michael seems unfazed by the collective silence as he runs through current stats. He talks about the upcoming event and how he’s decided not to make any last-minute changes. I should be celebrating. I won! I won the argument with Gloatman.
But there’s a problem: a strangely exhilarating feeling lingering in my bones. I don’t care anymore. I’m not interested in the outcome of this event or anything after it.
I thought long and hard last night about what I was going to say to Michael. How I was going to make him pay for last week. How I was going to demand a pay rise. How I was going to assert myself over the director position. Yet, I have no desire to do any of that anymore.
I laugh. Everyone turns to look at me. I’ve interrupted Michael.
He smiles at me as I finally face him. “Did you want to add anything, Fliss?”
“Sorry,” I say. “No. Carry on.”
Michael makes a strange face as if he wants to frown but can’t. He carries on anyway, eyeing me suspiciously.
I watch the way he talks and wonder if anything he says is even real, if he’s ever actually meant any of the compliments he’s given me. Does he really think he can pay me in recognition?
“And finally,” Michael says, clapping his hands. “I’m pleased to say that the board has come to a decision about who our next director should be.” Michael pauses for effect. The room spins. He can’t possibly have made a decision already, can he? I didn’t even get an interview. But, of course, his ideal candidate already passed their final test with flying colours. Fuck, I’m stupid.
“James,” he says. “Congratulations!”
There’s a lump in my throat that drops to my stomach. The noteswerefor him then. Iwasthe challenge. It slices through the core of me. I knew it; deep down I already knew this. It shouldn’t come as a surprise.
My mind races. I could leave. I should just get up and storm out. He doesn’t even want it, I remember. They’ve letmewin a battle because inevitably, I’d already lost the war.
I feel sogullible.
But I clap along with the rest of the room. And I smile.
I say, “Congratulations. Well earnt.” And I mean it. He deserves to stay here forever.
James hasn’t said anything. He simply frowns and blinks at Michael, then shakes his head ever so subtly at me. Whatever. He can pretend he doesn’t want this right now, whilst I’m sat beside him, but he’ll be lapping up the extra income. Isn’t that what he said? That’s all he cares about, isn’t it? Money, money, money.
Well, I hope it makes him happy.
*
“Felicity,” James says, hot on my heels as I stride back to my desk. I don’t stop to hear what he has to say. The heart-wrenching pain I’m in is most probably because I’m confident he knew that was going to happen but chose not to say. I’m trying to work out what game I lost. When, over the last week, did I miss it? Or was it before all of this? Either way, he was hanging onto something. Hiding it.
“Fliss,” he says, when I don’t stop or turn, his voice low but urgent.
“What!?” I spin on him. He comes to a halt in front of me. Some of the people at nearby desks turn in our direction. I can feel their wide-eyed expressions on us before they go back to their work, pretending not to listen.
James exhales slowly. His face is contorted as if he’s in pain. But how can he be? He’s just been made a flipping director of Starr.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t think he’d announce it then.”
“Ok,” I say with a shrug. I want to say,so you knew, so you didn’t tell me, so you’re precisely the arsehole I always thought you were. But my lips are firmly sealed for two reasons: not fighting him right now is probably the more painful way to defeat him, and because, miraculously, I’m already over it. Over here. Over this. Over it all.
