Tough Sell

by Trixie More

  “Some of us here think these types of messages are dangerous.” She tipped up her chin and looked directly at Peter Brooking. “But not all of us. There are people, right here in this very room, who believe anything less than full engagement is yielding to failure. There are people, right here in this room, who want to engage, who are eager to bring any weapon they can find to the fight. And there’s a company that wants to give them the tools to make a difference.” Her voice was getting stronger with every sentence. Her hands gestured elegantly, her face imploring the audience to lean in, to meet her halfway. “Who are we to keep them out of the battle? Who will we be if we don’t bring these products out to the front and center?”

  She was magnificent. Edward watched his lover as she turned to her laptop and started the business part of her presentation, outlining where the marketing could be done most effectively and at the most reasonable cost. Ed listened, but for him, he was already sold. Looking around he could see doubt growing on Adam’s face. When Dorothy finished and sat down, Adam looked like he was fighting for control before he spoke.

  “Dorothy, that presentation was stirring,” Adam said. Dorothy beamed at him. He continued, “But it is nothing like any of the work you’ve done to date and I find that disturbing.”

  Dorothy’s eyes widened and her mouth slackened. Edward held his breath.

  “It reminds me strongly of Kathy’s work though. I understand she is your mentor here, but this is just too radically different from anything I’ve seen from you. I have to ask, how much, if any of this, did you actually do yourself? Or is this just Kathy’s work with your name on it?”

  Edward felt like the chair had been yanked out from underneath him.

  Blood pounded in Dorothy’s ears and she felt sweat break out on her face. From the corner of the room she heard a woman’s sharp intake of breath. The sound must have been made by Kathy; it was followed quickly by Peter’s low murmur. The jerk was probably telling her to stay quiet, to not leap up and deny the terrible accusation. Dorothy waited for a moment. Where was her rescue? Kathy’s comment from the other day rose in Dorothy’s mind. Didn’t she get tired of this? This needing to be rescued? This needing?

  What could she say to Adam? Her prior work had indeed been poor compared to this. How could she begin to prove this was her work? Her mind latched onto a way. Ed. Ed knew she’d been working on this. He had printed the placard. He was as invested as she was. She cleared her throat and prepared to do something completely new. She got ready to save herself.

  “I can see how you might wonder that, Adam.” She forced a thin smile. She flicked a glance at Kathy, who was sitting next to Peter, her hands gripping the arms of her chair as if she was about to fling herself out of it. “My previous campaigns were pretty terrible, weren’t they?” She let herself grin as a few of the interns in the room snickered. “And Kathy is definitely my mentor. Despite my embarrassing performance to date, I’ve actually been learning from her. It surprised even me to find that out, Adam.” Dorothy could see Kathy relax a bit.

  “But the truth is, I haven’t been as interested in, I mean, I haven’t felt the same pull to write a campaign for shoes that I feel for this one. This campaign, these products, they mean something to me. So it was easier to find the focus I needed.”

  She felt herself relax a bit. She could do this, she could explain things. “I can assure you that while Kathy has helped, by all the advice and guidance she so generously shared over the last few months, she didn’t work on this campaign at all.”

  Adam leaned back in his chair, his expression odd, like he had something unpleasant in his mouth that he was reluctant to swallow. “I’m not going to embarrass Kathy by asking her outright in this room if that’s true,” he said. Kathy’s brows climbed, her eyes large and round. Peter leaned closer to Kathy. “But I have to say, the improvement is just too great, Dorothy.” He turned to the room. “Will you excuse us please?” he asked the room at large. People practically fell over their chairs to leave. A few stammered out faint words of praise for the campaign, directing the statements to the air between Dorothy and Kathy.

  “Adam, you’re wrong.” Her voice was too loud but she didn’t care. Why should she? “I worked on this all weekend. Ed was there. We met several times. He had the placards printed himself, because I couldn’t get to our print shop in time. He knows how hard I worked on this!” Dorothy turned to Ed, looking at him in desperation. “Ed, tell them …”

  “Don’t you mean, Mr. Walker?” Adam asked and she felt her face burn. Her face had never felt as hot as it did at that moment. Dorothy figured she had to be bright red.

  “Well, I see,” said Adam.

  “I don’t think you do see,” said Ed. Finally, he was speaking. As soon as she heard his voice, her knees felt weak. She barely made it to a seat. Her gratitude for his assistance, and her shame at failing once again to defend herself, stole her strength.

  “Ms. Johansen and I did work together all weekend on this project. As you know, the time line you gave her was exceedingly short. The interviews and conversations that would normally be done in the office, had to happen in a short window, all during the weekend.” Before Adam could interject, Ed held up his hand. “I did have these placards printed on Saturday. Ms. Johansen gave me the designs herself that morning and I delivered them in the afternoon. She also set up several meetings with me to discuss products and strategies. I have no doubt this presentation is the result of that work.”

  From the corner of her eye, Dorothy saw Peter lean forward in his chair, his expression smug and his eyes eager. “Is that true, Dorothy? You and Mr. Walker are business acquaintances and nothing more? I remind you, that fraternizing, which is the polite term I believe, between employees and our clients is grounds for dismissal.”

  Edward, standing by the table, folded his arms over his chest, gave Peter a look of pure disgust but his mouth stayed closed. Dorothy shifted in her chair, not sure where to look. What should she say? She’d been fraternizing the fuck out of Edward. If she admitted to that she would lose her job and the only chance she had to save his company. If she denied it, surely Edward would back her. He couldn’t want this embarrassment any more than she did. She lifted her chin. “I most certainly did not fraternize, as you so charmingly put it, with Mr. Walker, and I’m offended that you think I did.” She looked Peter in the eyes, then turned and looked Adam in the eyes. When she turned to look at Ed, he was staring at her stone-faced. He dropped his arms and turned stiffly to Adam.

  “It seems you have some things to work out here.” He looked like he was about to leave. What the heck? Why would he leave her here? She searched desperately for something to say that would keep him here with her, and the first thing she thought of was her plan to make him the spokesperson.

  “But we did spend a lot of time together this weekend,” she practically shrieked it. Calm down, she thought. He’s not leaving. “In fact, he has agreed to be the spokesperson for the campaign.”

  Edward’s face could not have been more shocked. She watched as the color washed out of his face, leaving him pale. Just as quickly, his face flushed. He didn’t have to speak. The twisting in her gut told her she had just played the wrong card.

  “That is, most certainly, not the agreement we had,” Edward stated. And with that, he was gone. She wanted to cry out her apology. I’m sorry, I take it back, but instead, she watched Edward stiffly walk to the door, open it and pass through. Just like that, Edward left the room and left her with these two beastly men. She couldn’t believe it. How could he do that? She stared at the door half expecting him to come back in.

  “Well, Dot, I just can’t take the chance. Our company has standards around the level of work, the recycling of other people’s ideas and around how to engage with our customers. I’m afraid we can no longer continue to hold a position here for you.” She tore her gaze from the door and heard Adam’s words, as if they were coming from far away. Adam stood. “I think you should pack up y
our office. I’ll send HR a notice.” And with that, he left, never once meeting her eyes.

  Dorothy looked across the table to Kathy. The woman looked like she was in shock. Dorothy could relate. “Kathy.” Dorothy’s voice caught. Where had Ed gone? She tried again. “Kathy, I want to thank you for all you did for me. You have been a great mentor, and I’m so sorry that I embarrassed you.” With that Dorothy stood and using all her concentration, forced herself to walk normally from the room.

  As soon as she left the room, she hurried to the front desk. There was no sign of Ed anywhere.

  “Lisa, where did he go?”

  “You mean Mr. Walker?” The receptionist’s concerned face almost brought Dorothy to tears but then again, she had nothing to cry about, did she? Her family had been murdered in their sleep. She was alive. And alone. She had nothing to cry about.

  “He walked out about five minutes ago. He didn’t look happy,” Lisa said. “Dot, what happened in there? Everything was so beautiful this morning.”

  “I can’t. Not right now.” Dorothy ran out the door and cursed as she realized she couldn’t just bolt down the stairs. Stupid shoes, stupid dress. She had a death grip on the railing as she clattered downstairs as fast as she could. She tottered out into the street. Looking north, she saw Ed descending into the subway. She pulled off her shoes, giving the thought of being barefoot in Manhattan a big who-gave-a-fuck and ran after him.

  She cursed again when she hit the turnstile and remembered she had no money with her.

  “Ed!” People around her gave her a wide berth. “Ed Walker! Please! Please come back!” She had no idea if he heard her, if it was even possible for him to hear her. He could be down on the platform. He could be on a damn train already. She screamed his name like a banshee and miracle of miracles, he appeared, striding toward the turnstile like an avenging angel, terrible and beautiful.

  “Shut up, Dorothy.”

  She stepped back at the forceful hiss of his words.

  “Ed …”

  “No, you listen here, Dorothy. I would have chosen you over my business any day of the week, but that’s not where your head is at, is it?” He scowled at her. “I’m nobody’s fool, lady.” He stepped back. “Get over yourself.” And then he left.

  He just left. She watched his back as it disappeared around the white tiled corner. Then she just watched the white tile.

  “Guess he tol’ you, bitch.” The words had no rancor, despite the coarseness. Dorothy turned and looked at the slender, vaguely Asian woman pushing through the gate next to her. She was speaking but almost to herself. “An’ he does look familiar.” The woman glanced at Dorothy’s face. “Say! Ain’t you Baby Dot?”

  Dorothy fled.

  Chapter 16

  Edward stood on the platform, the stink of urine in his nostrils and the gut punch of betrayal burning inside him. What had she been thinking? The lie was incredible. She couldn’t have expected to save her job with that. They had been seen by Peter on Sunday holding hands and sitting together. So why the lie? There was only one reason he could think of. She must have found out. Somewhere, somehow, she knew about the video, and between yesterday and today, she had realized who she’d been “fraternizing with” and as expected, she wanted nothing to do with him. Except of course for where he could help her career. And then she’d had the nerve to say he’d be the spokesman. That clinched it. She’d seen the video and saying that had been the clearest message of all. He should have known.

  Except he had known, hadn’t he? He’d known all along that this day would come, but he sure hadn’t thought it would feel like this. Hurtful, yes. Sad, desperate, sure, he’d expected all of that. What he hadn’t expected was the blinding rage that crashed over him when she denied loving him.

  He hadn’t been the only one who had felt it, had he? Yesterday he would have sworn that warm, full sensation of connection, of affection had been mutual, more than mutual … real. He’d thought it was real.

  Around him, people swayed to the movement of the subway car. They held onto straps, they sat on the hard plastic seats and the dirty tunnel flew past the windows. He thought of her face as she leaned over the turnstile. He’d been so angry that he barely noticed her, didn’t really see her there. She’d had her shoes in her hand. Had she been barefoot? He wasn’t sure.

  What had she learned about him in the few hours between him leaving her yesterday and this morning? Had she actually seen the video? In front of him, a redheaded man with a full beard smirked as he looked at his cell phone. Had the people on this car? Could someone on this car have been one of the people who had seen him, kneeling with another man’s cock stuffed down his throat? Edward felt the flush creep up his face, he could feel the heat of it, the shame of it and the predictable, fucking anger of it all. All around him, people rode, entranced by their damn smart phones. Were they searching his name right now? Taking photos of the aging pool boy? No longer young but still recognizable, a joke then and a worse joke now.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a movement. A smart phone raised up, pointed at him, the unseen owner obviously taking a photo of him. Edward’s hand flashed out as fast as a tripped mousetrap and slapped downward, knocking the phone to the floor of the subway. Behind it, a boy about sixteen years old, gaped up at him, one arm still around his girlfriend. A selfie. They had been taking a selfie. What an asshole he was. To counter that thought, he growled at the boy.

  “Watch where you point that thing.” He moved off down the car, away from all of them, looking for a car with nobody in it. In the end, he didn’t need to find that because the train stopped, the doors opened and he was released into the wilds of Manhattan like the animal he was.

  He couldn’t live like this anymore. That much was clear. His legs stretched as he strode through the station. He launched himself up the steps and out into the sunlight. He couldn’t live like this, wondering what others were thinking of him, never having a normal relationship. He couldn’t ride the damn subway or take care of his employees. He had found what he thought was love and then he couldn’t keep it. He was so sick of it all.

  Sick of it all, of course, except Dorothy. He let the crowd of pedestrians pull him along, crossing the blocks between the subway and his apartment, drifting past the bodegas and their filthy windows, past the small hardware store, packed floor to ceiling with every type of household item, from cheap plastic dish drainers to rat poison. He moved with the crowd and felt the sun on his face. His suit jacket clung to his damp dress shirt and he wished for a life where he never wore anything but jeans and a T-shirt. A life perhaps, where he never left his apartment, where the pool boy video was a myth and Dorothy wandered through his days wearing his old Mets jersey.

  Shame, hot, familiar and uncomfortable flooded through him. What had he done? Had he batted her away the same way he had knocked the phone from the young boy’s hands on the subway? Horns blared in the street and the music of Latin America streamed from the windows above him. The world moved on and nobody seemed to notice Edward at all. Nobody was watching him. In all these people, he was anonymous and for the first time since the video went viral, he wished to be seen. Not just by anyone. By people who loved him. Seen by Ben, by Gunnar, by the people who worked for him, by Dorothy.

  Ben and Gunnar knew about his past. What would happen if the people at the factories found out about the video? Really. He asked himself the question and it stopped him in his tracks. If the big blond biker at the NY plant found out Edward was the pool boy, what would change? The more he thought about it, the more he was sure that nothing would change. It might be a moment’s interest. Some discussions over lunch. They would all still work there, and he felt certain, they would all still be happy to be building the products they did, still grateful to Gunnar and himself for keeping them all on. So what would change?

  Would they look at him differently? Maybe. No. He couldn’t imagine their eyes on him, thinking about what he’d done … he wasn’t ready for that. He
wasn’t strong enough for that. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

  He turned the corner to his own street, cutting across the street with a quick glance over his shoulder. And what about Dorothy? He thought about the way she had looked, leaning over the aluminum turnstile, her face red and tense. The sound of his name echoing down the subway tunnel, her voice a shriek the likes of which he’d never heard before. God, his name … even his own name was a source of shame for him. He had only wanted to make her stop calling out his first and last name, wanted her to stop calling attention to him, to them both.

  When he’d rounded the corner, he saw her before she noticed him. Her face had been what? Pained looking. Not angry as he had thought at the time. She hadn’t looked at him in disgust. She’d been confused, barefoot, carrying her shoes? And screeching his name through the subway. What had she wanted? He realized he hadn’t given her a chance to say even one word. He’d been so sure he understood everything but now, he understood nothing. He knew nothing. All he knew was that she had denied that they had anything more than business between them and then, then she had announced he was going to be the spokesperson. He couldn’t fathom what had been going through her mind and that, he decided, was his big mistake.

  The pictures and diplomas on his office walls reminded him how far he’d come. On the other side of the deep pile of folders, notebooks and computer monitors was his own place of refuge. Peter hesitated at the door to his office and glanced back. The top of Kathy’s head was just visible from here as she bent over something at her desk. When she sat upright, he could see her profile. As if she felt him looking, she turned and caught him staring. The pained expression on her face made him feel, well, small. He bowed his head, entered his office, shutting the door behind him.

  The office felt safe, but cold, so he turned up the heat and went around to his chair, but when he got there, he just sat.