“Come in.” His smooth voice beckoned me inside. I pushed the door, stepping confidently into the room.
“Morning, Martin.” He looked away from his computer screen and toward me.
“Hi, Melissa, come on in. I’m sure I can guess why you’re here—maybe something to do with our friends in Geneva?” He smiled warmly. I was glad he could see the funny side, because I sure as hell couldn’t.
“Ha! ‘Friends,’ indeed. With friends like those, who needs enemies? Do you know what the emergency was?” I tried to tone down the irritation I was feeling. Though completely justified, I didn’t want to give the impression of not being solution-focused, or team player. I’d be angling for a promotion and pay raise soon—I needed to be on point at all times.
“Not the full details, just that it was something to do with a security breach of user data from the microchips in the Dorī-Shōjo Dolls.” Ugh. I hated the creepily lifelike interactive baby dolls as it was. This was just another reason to add to my list.
“Ouch. That can’t be pretty.”
“I wouldn’t imagine so. But let them worry about that. It’s not a global thing, so at most they’ll send across a press release for us, outlining that there are no implications for our customers. Our PR department is standing by, and already have some outlets lined up to share the release as soon as it comes through.
“In the meantime, you and I need to concentrate on not making asses of ourselves in this meeting. No mean feat given our hasty involvement.”
“I know. It’s not my favorite way to spend a Monday, but I have asked Faye to bring us as much background information as we have on hand, and I’ll call Geneva now, to see if there’s anything else they can furnish us with to help, such as the agency selection criteria.”
“Great idea. Then all we can really do is spend the next few deepening our understanding of the project the best way we can.”
Beck
I sauntered into Raine’s office, pissed not only about it being Raine’s office, again, but also about the direction ‘we’ had decided on for this pitch. I used the term ‘we’ lightly. In actual fact, I hadn’t agreed to shit. I had been outvoted by the other partners. And in another demonstration of the fact that not all partners were created equal, having been outnumbered, I had no recourse. It was happening whether I liked it or not.
I had no doubt in my mind though, that had Raine been the lone voice of dissent, there was no way we would have moved forward in that direction. His word was law. It got my goat, but it wasn’t personal. It was the way it had always been and would forever be in creative agencies. The clue was in the title. That didn’t mean it didn’t get my goat when it didn’t go my way.
“What crawled up your ass and bit you?” Raine spat as I threw myself along the length of the couch opposite the one being occupied by Dillon.
Ever punctual, ever dutiful Dillon. The man was so British, I was pretty sure his blood was blue. I knew I was behaving like a recalcitrant high schooler, but I couldn’t seem to snap out of it. Waking up to The Dream had thrown me off kilter for the day, as it always did. As my jaw twitched in frustration, it was all I could do to hold myself back from responding. “Your Mom.” Nice, Beck. Real nice.
“You know exactly what’s eating me, brother. I’m not happy with the idea.”
“Yeah well, way I see it, that’s shit of the toughest kind. It’s a done fucking deal. We voted, and you lost. Put your big boy briefs on and suck it the fuck up, or go home and sit this one out. We can manage without you.”
Dillon shifted almost imperceptibly in his seat, ready to step in should shit get ugly. He was right to be on edge. This could go either way. I swung up to a sitting position, still calculating my next move. Part of me—a really big part—wanted to charge Raine, slap his snakeskin-shoe-clad feet from the top of his antique wooden desk, and punch his fucking lights out. Instead I laughed. Loudly.
“Nice one, motherfucker. I’d like to see you all steer this ship without me directing you. We all have our roles to play. You know that as well as I do—and until the ink is dry on the contract with Beyner, and the business is firmly through the door, this is my circus. I’m the ringmaster, and you’re my monkeys.”
Fury flared his sky blue eyes to a deep shade of navy. He kept his facial expression neutral and his body eerily relaxed, ever the casual vibe. I say vibe, because though he was definitely the looser of the four of us, he could be anything but casual when he chose to. This was definitely one of those times. He often used his outwardly relaxed attitude as a weapon against those who mistook his laid back nature for weakness. Of course, I understood him well enough to know otherwise. Besides, his eyes were his tell—he couldn’t hide what he was feeling there if he wanted to.
He rose deceptively slowly, first swinging his feet to the floor, then rearranging his crisp white linen shirt before coming to a standing position. He walked at a leisurely pace to the front of his desk, leaning his butt on the edge, and crossing his legs at the ankles. Sliding his hands casually into his pockets, he smirked lazily, regarding me with apparent disdain. He spoke again, his voice nothing short of a growl.
“I don’t know about that, but I do know that if you ever refer to me as a monkey again, it’ll be the last thing you say before they wire your jaw shut, and you live out the rest of your days drinking your meals through a straw. We clear?”
I was standing and squaring up to him toe-to-toe, faster than you could say “Monkey nuts.” We were so close, our noses almost touched, and I could smell the residual aroma of weed and peppermint—a blunt (or two) followed by a stick of gum—and hear the rush of breath as he inhaled and exhaled rapidly. Fuck.
Had he been smoking already? It wasn’t even eight a.m. Was it weed for breakfast these days? That aside, I knew one thing for sure—he was angry. He was trying to keep a lid on it, but in reality, he was mad as a cut snake.
Before I could say or do something I’d regret later, I was saved by the bell. And by bell, I meant Nate, our CEO. Before I could register what had happened, he was right beside us, no doubt ready to get between us if the situation escalated.
“Gentlemen—and I use the term loosely—there’s a lot of sexual tension in here. And I mean, a lot. There’s always been a little frisson of “Will they, won’t they?” simmering just under the surface between the two of you, right? That love-hate thing that comes right back around to love again. Am I right?” He was way off base but I wasn’t going to dignify his little skit with a response.
“Listen, why don’t you just get it over and done with? Screw it out of your systems, and make life a whole lot easier for the rest of us? Don’t be shy. Just start with a little kiss. You’re practically there already anyway, your lips are so close. What’s a an eighth of an inch between friends? Bart and I don’t mind, do we?” He flashed his trademark grin at Dillon, quirking his eyebrow in question. As expected, Dillon pled the fifth. Nate turned back to the two of us.
“Take that as a no. He won’t mind. C’mon, a bit of homoerotic entertainment will really get the day started right. Although that of course begs the question, who’s pitching, and who’s catching?”