Unfinished Sympathy

by Amélie S. Duncan

  “That was all I was pointing out,” Ryan said, as if no one had heard his very obvious attempt at putting me down.

  “Agreed,” Logan said, turning to Paul. “Ryan will be your point of contact on the project. Though if you want someone to mentor—”

  “Daniel would be good,” Ryan piggybacked. “He’s also on contract, but he has a degree in sound engineering. I could use him as a liaison for Emono and Crane Production.”

  “Yeah,” Daniel said, perking up in his seat.

  “Then it’s settled.” Ryan grinned and shared a nod with Daniel.

  Everyone had accepted this as business as usual, but then Paul broke in addressing us all.

  “You don’t decide how I work.” He had spoken in a firm and decisive voice, his facial expression alerting everyone that no one—absolutely no one—could tell him otherwise. The tone he’d used didn’t go unnoticed. Several people at the table darted their eyes at Gary, then snatched them away just as quickly.

  When Paul spoke a second time, his voice lacked some of its frost. “My music is my music. My name is my name. I won’t put it on anything I don’t want it to be on. Emono Games asked for me.”

  He purposely hesitated, allowing those last words to sink in. He adjusted his suit jacket and then sat forward, clasping his fingers on top of the desk. “If you can’t handle how I work, then you’re wasting my time. And I don’t waste my time.”

  He sat back again and sent a glare at Gary, his gesture a seamlessly fluid flexing of power.

  I drew in a breath. Be still my heart. A pin falling could’ve sounded on the carpet.

  Ryan’s face had gone from pale pink to beet red. He made an unnecessary adjustment to his tie. “I hope you didn’t think I was trying to manage your work, Mr. Crane. I had only hoped to point out the difficulty that comes with working with a beginner tech.” He ended the last words with a pleasant smile in my direction.

  “You’re right, Mr. Crane. You should have full creative rein on the soundtrack,” Gary reassured him, completely ignoring Ryan. He then fixed Logan with a stern gaze before giving a brief nod and focusing his attention back on Paul. “We’re sorry if there was any confusion. We can work with you and whatever plan you have once you agree to take on the project.”

  We all looked at Paul, the victor.

  “I agreed to come today and meet your team. I’d say we have a start,” Paul said noncommittally. He wasn’t won over so easily.

  Paul stood, and Gary and the suits immediately surrounded him. Everyone from the department was going over to thank him.

  I waited until he was alone and approached him by the elevators, where he chatted with a security guard.

  “You’re for the Brooklyn Nets over the New York Knicks? Who are you?” Paul said to him, and they laughed together.

  I exhaled and smiled. His ease gave me the extra boost in confidence to approach him.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Crane?” I said.

  Paul’s head turned towards me and his exuberant smile evaporated. “Yes?”

  My confidence dropped. A change had come over him. “Thank you… for your kind words.”

  I held out my hand. His shake was brief, but he stepped away from the guard and led me several steps away for privacy.

  “There was nothing kind about giving away your opportunity. You downplayed your background, and even when you challenged them, you gave them an excuse. Are you thankful for what I said, or do you wish I hadn’t said a thing?”

  I furrowed my brow but bit my tongue to avoid causing a scene. My blood was boiling. It was easy for him to say, he could get anything he wanted, but I depended on this job. I did my best to keep things nonconfrontational with my bosses. If I did anything else, they might fire me. And then where would I be? I certainly wouldn’t be at Prima Games either.

  His eyes regarded me, and then they softened. They were the same as they’d been when he watched me on the train. He leaned close to say something, but Gary appeared again.

  “Paul, there you are,” Gary said as he walked over and stood between us. “We’ll make the last meeting short.” He then turned to me. “It was great that you could make the meeting today, Audrey. Keep up the good work.” His hand gestured toward the elevator, and he and Paul entered it together.

  I noticed Paul kept his eyes on me until the elevator doors closed.

  Had I gone so far out of my way to make things easier on my bosses? By pointing out my shortcomings had I’d removed myself from working on Paul’s soundtrack? For the second time that day, I’d received a golden egg, and now both might have slipped from my grip. However, the meeting was over, and I had only to move forward.

  Thoughts of Paul clung to my mind and journeyed to where the music lay buried; to that version of Aubrey. The one who didn’t have to humble herself to keep a temporary job. The one who had held the promise of becoming a professional violinist but ended up losing everything.

  Aubrey

  I didn’t have to look outside my office to see that I wasn’t the only one working past six on a Friday. Nothing motivated unpaid overtime like a round of layoffs. Everyone had suddenly become the model employee, working harder than before and, to most of the supervisors’ delight, working ahead. Email notices flashed like spam ads on my computer, with messages marked for all of us to view completed work, including film clips and screenshots of progress. Though their efforts were for an audience of a few to stand out and show worth, I was also keen and had been sending out a few of my own.

  My eagerness lasted until Ryan sent me a text, even though he’d already left the office to pick up the youngest of his three children.

  6:07 P.M. We’ve reassigned the outbreak scene for Daniel to do.

  My stomach immediately tied in knots. The outbreak scene had been in the video presentation today. I sent back a reply.

  6:09: P.M. Why are you reassigning it? What’s wrong with the scene? If there is a problem, I can fix it.

  My phone rang, and before I spoke, Ryan spoke loudly from the other end over the sound of his toddler daughter wailing in the background. “I reassigned the scene. Is there a problem?”

  “There is no problem,” I replied. “I simply asked how I can fix the scene—”

  “I don’t have time to teach you how to do your job, Aubrey.”

  “And I don’t need lessons,” I snapped back, my tone sharp.

  An apology was on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t force myself to sink even lower and give it, especially not after being called out by Paul Crane for placating Ryan. Though I had been job hunting and interviewing, the fact of the matter remained that I needed this job. How could I hold on to my position when Ryan worked to take the job away from me?

  “Excuse me?” Ryan’s reply came after a long pause. Perhaps it was the only comeback he had at the shock of my speaking up. Or he’d realized he’d gone too far.

  I enjoyed his discomfort, but I chose my next words carefully. “I don’t need lessons on completing my work. If you have a problem, it’s in my contract to discuss it with you and Logan.”

  “You would also know that it’s at your boss’s discretion to decide on the game.” He spoke too loudly, which I took as further proof that I had rattled him. “It’s how things work here. If you don’t think you can handle it, I’m sure I can set up a meeting with Logan to discuss your issues with our decision making about games we have been working on for years, that you’ve only been working on for the last year—”

  “Eighteen months. A year and a half, Ryan,” I interrupted.

  He plowed on, as if he hadn’t heard me. “Daniel has a better grasp of the technical needs for the final delivery. Logan and I have already agreed to move forward with him instead.”

  I clenched my jaw. Since when was Daniel dependable? Despite the fact that he held the college degree, I corrected most of his work. I could also have pointed out that unpolished scenes would never have made it into a promotional video to land a high caliber client like Paul Crane
, because that would have highlighted Ryan’s own incompetence. And that Ryan hadn’t stayed in Logan’s office long enough after the meeting to review the scene.

  “What should I work on next?” I asked in a tone as light as a feather. I could use my change in approach as my new fail-safe to throw him off.

  “I’ll speak with Logan and see what he wants you to do, but I know that Quality Assurance has been behind checking out the game. I’ll see if they need help next week.”

  I pressed my lips together. No doubt he’d be the one to suggest I go there.

  The line cut in, and he cursed. “Damn it, now my ex-wife is calling. I have to go.” And then he seemed to recall he was speaking to me, not one of his buddies at the office. “Aubrey, we have reassigned the scene. This conversation is over.” He hung up.

  I cursed and tossed my cell phone into my backpack. There was nothing wrong with Quality Assurance—we all jumped in to help find bugs in the game to correct—but if Ryan was placing me there, it could only mean I was off the Absolution soundtrack project. We wouldn’t have enough work for two temps going into their next phase of the game. Did that mean I’d soon be out of a job as well?

  Lost in my thoughts, I didn’t notice Logan had walked in until he knocked on the wall. “Am I interrupting?”

  “No,” I said. “I was just checking on Outbreak. Ryan said you reassigned the scenes to Daniel today and that you need me to work in Quality Assurance next week.” My gaze turned hard, awaiting his confirmation of what he and Ryan had done.

  Logan’s eyebrows pulled together. “If that’s what Ryan decided, then I’m one hundred percent behind him about Outbreak.”

  I stiffened in my seat. Logan, as predictable as ever, had taken Ryan’s side.

  “But I hadn’t agreed to Q.A.,” he said. “I did ask Ryan to free up some of your time to make you available for Paul Crane if he should commit to working with us, which Gary believes he will once we work things out with him.”

  I guess freeing up some of my time gave Ryan an excuse to come after me a little harder than he’d ever had.

  “That’s good news.” I gave a polite smile and folded my hands on my lap.

  “You know, Paul could get the best musicians to compose this soundtrack. It could be huge.” He stroked his beard. “Anyway, he has invited us to a party at Fuel Night Club tomorrow night. Gary thinks we should have you go, to show Paul that we’re committed to doing things his way.” Logan rolled his eyes.

  To be honest, nightclubs weren’t my idea of a good time. That was what my sister and her friends used to do, back when things were good. I breathed through the ache in my chest.

  “I’ll go,” I said, even though he hadn’t really asked me properly. “I’m sure you and Gary are better suited for handling the negotiations.”

  “Yes, we are, but the client is the top priority,” Logan monotoned. “The party may have celebrities. It’s formal.” His eyes flicked over my clothes. “Dress the best you can, alright? Just no jeans, T-shirts, or sneakers.”

  “Basically, nothing I’m wearing.” My words came out as a joke, and Logan let out a wheezing laugh.

  “My wife, Mia, will be there too. We can give you a ride, or actually—” he paused as he dug into his suit jacket and took out his wallet, producing a platinum card. “This is for Emono’s car service. You can use it for a ride there and back, but you must return it when you’re done.” He hesitated, glancing between me and the pass.

  Why did giving the card and trusting me to give it back make him hesitate? It made me think of my past. I had no criminal record, and confidentiality kept what had happened quiet, but I knew deep down that nothing stays hidden.

  “How about I book the car now, and you can take your pass back with you?” I suggested.

  He laughed a little and nodded. “That’ll work.”

  He placed the card on the desk and I booked the car service, with Logan supplying the name and the address of the place before leaving my office—leaving me to mull over whether this invite to the party meant good fortune or whether I was the sacrificial lamb, ready to take the fall should Paul Crane pass on the project.

  I wanted advice but was unsure of where to get it, and having my work taken off me, I had no choice but to pack up for home. Before I left, I stopped at the kitchen to clean out my coffee cup and found Quinn and his co-worker/roommate Kyle sitting in the kitchen stashing away sandwiches, chips and fruit salad into takeaway containers.

  “Leftovers from the bigwig meeting,” Kyle announced with a dramatic gesture of his hands. “We’re divvying it up to take home. Do you want some?”

  I scoffed, “Food I don’t have to pay for?”

  He chuckled. “Amen.”

  “Hurry, Kyle,” Quinn scolded him. “My nephew is coming to visit, and I need to check out a laptop from IT for him while he’s hanging out with his dear old uncle.”

  Kyle and I didn’t question his logic. The company laptops spent most of the time collecting dust, and during the bring-someone-to-work day the previous month we had all witnessed how destructive his nephew was.

  I put aside a pumpernickel turkey sandwich, three fruit cups, and a dark chocolate and macadamia nut cookie. On second thought, I made that two cookies.

  “Where do you put it?” Kyle teased me.

  I smirked at him and took a bite of my cookie. Actually, I planned to give it to my roommate Destiny, but I said, “Is that a crack at my weight?”

  He chuckled. “No. Merely a joke. I love women that have something to grab on to.”

  “Do I need to contact HR?” I mused.

  “Ignore him, Aubrey. Just a failed attempt to engage in mating banter. He’s out of practice after his ballerina dumped him,” Quinn replied as if that explained everything.

  “Quinn liked her too,” Kyle pointed out. “I set him up with her friend and he pretended to be a self-styled, germaphobe, gluten-free douche.”

  “Zoey was good company, but that date was a favor to you,” Quinn said, as he took a huge bite of a sourdough roll. “Besides, ballerina girl was too uptight for me.”

  I shook my head and laughed. “Says the germaphobe, self-styled, gluten-free douche.”

  I had no issues with phobias and people who chose to be gluten-free. Live and let live. As for Kyle, I didn’t think for a minute he was hitting on me. Kyle and I had nothing in common. Besides, I would never let myself be caught in one of the precarious, trashy office romances. They were all cannon fodder for gossip, which Kyle was listing for fun.

  “Jim’s smashing Lisa, but she’s also with Mark….” he said.

  Quinn and I eye-rolled our way into the next topic, which had Quinn going to the doorway and doing a quick check that the corridor was clear.

  He cocked a brow before he contributed, “So, I see Paul Crane was in audio today.”

  “The iceman,” Kyle joked.

  “We heard he went full diva at the meeting and bitch-slapped Ryan.” Quinn snickered. “Inquiring minds want to gloat with you.”

  I giggled and lowered my voice to a whisper. “Ryan was being his usual rude self. He and Logan tried to tell Paul how they would run his project. Paul wasn’t a diva. He made it clear he would be the one in control, that’s all.”

  Kyle’s mouth dropped open. “Ryan did that in front of Gary?”

  “Ambition knows no shame in some,” Quinn said. “Paul was right to nip that shit right in the bud. You let assholes get away in the beginning, they’ll run over you forever.”

  I didn’t respond but thought about what Quinn had said. Perhaps Paul had tried to tell me the same in his own way.

  “Yeah, but you know why Emono Games really want him, right?” Quinn continued in a lower tone.

  I shook my head.

  Quinn blew out his breath. “Sometimes I forget how new you are to all this, Aubrey. You must’ve heard of Jonas Crane, Paul Crane’s father?”

  “Maybe.” I furrowed my brow. “But please get on with it.”

 
“Snippy,” Kyle tutted. “Aubrey also needs to get laid. And if you tell HR that, I’ll deny it, and I’m good. I’m still Sneaky College Dealer Number One,” Kyle trilled, flexing his small recurring role on a popular crime show for the hundredth time.

  “I’m not worried,” I said. “But let’s get back to Quinn’s news.”

  “Thank you,” Quinn replied, squaring his shoulders. “Jonas Crane, Paul Crane’s father, is a venture capitalist billionaire who likes to buy and sell companies. That means our good-guy owner Gary plans to sell Emono, and once he does, there go the rest of us.”

  “How so?” I asked. “I mean, if Absolution does well, at the very least, they’ll commission another sequel. Even if Gary wants out, why would Jonas Crane buy Emono just to sell it off?”

  Kyle nodded. “Check out the brain on Aubrey. Yeah. So what if Gary sells the company? If the game fails, the doors close anyway.”

  “Because that’s what people like him do,” Quinn answered. “He buys it to sell for a profit. When he does, it’s the beginning of the end of Emono as we know it. Crane will go the way of shareholders, and even worse, he’s not committed and won’t just make us all contractors. He’ll give our work to a studio willing to do the work cheaper. I mean, Gary is already trying to show Emono isn’t bleeding money. He cut staff and merged departments. Next, he’ll be coming for our benefits. All to show he can play their game. He’ll be mega rich, and we’ll all be out.”

  I slumped in my chair. His theory didn’t sound so far-fetched. “What choice do we have? If Absolution doesn’t sell, we close—but if we stay open, we’ll suffer because Jonas Crane will implement Draconian policies just before giving our successful game to an inexpensive team and closing us.”

  “Yep, we’re all screwed,” Quinn said, polishing off his Fiji water. “Do you want to walk to the train with us?”