Single Sashimi

by Camy Tang

  Esme rattled them off in a quiet yet cheerful tone. They discussed responsibilities Esme wanted to keep, wanted to give to Venus, and wanted to share.

  “Later this morning, I’ll need you to get some things for me.”

  Esme immediately picked up her pen and lifted the folio.

  “I need a company organizational chart and roster. I also need a programming schedule, and a list of work orders and projects we’re in the middle of. I want to know what’s upstream in the pipeline. I also want a meeting schedule.”

  Esme scribbled, smiled, and stood up. “I’m getting coffee. Would you like me to get you a cup?”

  “Oh. Uh…yes, thanks. You don’t have to, though.” She had been leery of asking her assistants for things like coffee because they weren’t paid to run beverages for her. Plus they probably wouldn’t have kept up with the demands of her addiction.

  “I don’t mind at all.” Esme took Venus’s empty cup and exited the office.

  She’d just finished the policy and procedure manual when an alarm blasted through the air. Fire? What was going on?

  She grabbed her purse—too dangerous leaving it—and opened her office door to an ear-throbbing honking. Several employees headed toward the back of the building, so she went that way too. Well, she couldn’t complain that her first day was uneventful…wait a minute.

  No one was heading out the door. Instead, they clustered into a large room at the back of the building that was filled with cubicles. One largish cubicle seemed to be the focal point.

  Another meltdown? More hysterics? Who broke up with whom this time? Was she going to have to handle two employee gatherings in a week?

  “There you are, my pretty…just a little closer …”

  “You can get him!” “Take him out!”

  Huh? What was going on? If Venus didn’t know better, it sounded like someone playing a video game. Or in a street fight.

  “Rip his head off!”

  Hmm, the employees were pretty bloodthirsty wenches.

  Venus shoved her way through the crowd until she got to the cubicle causing all the fuss. The woman at the computer suddenly cried, “Aha! I got him!”

  Cheers rose from her adoring fans.

  Venus stared in perplexity at the computer screen and the woman, who was pulling a Rocky Balboa with her arms in the air. She raised her voice above the congratulations. “What’s going on?”

  The atmosphere flash froze. The good thing was that the noise level dropped as fast as the temperature.

  The woman crossed her arms in front of her ample chest. Venus couldn’t help staring—she had corded forearms as large as ham hocks. “Who are you?”

  “Venus Chau.”

  “Venus?” The woman brayed, revealing a chipped front tooth. “Your name is Venus?”

  The room was suddenly bathed in blood through Venus’s narrowed eyes. “Why don’t you tell me your name before you start making fun of mine?” A few juvenile “Oooohs” rose from the audience.

  The woman sneered. “Nice to meet you, Venus. I’m Xena!” The room exploded with laughter.

  She had dealt with the worst in male arrogance and immaturity. From college interns to crotchety old geezers who could barely use a computer. From arrogant testers to arrogant programmers to arrogant CEOs. This little troublemaker was small beans.

  Xena was tall—but she slouched, and Venus was taller. She moved forward, pressing into Xena’s personal space, close enough to see the pockmarks on her sagging cheeks and smell the hair gel keeping her crinkly, ash-colored curls tight against her head. Xena’s arch smile stayed in place, but Venus could see her pupils dilate.

  “I am your new CTO. The next time you cause a company-wide disruption like this, you’re fired.”

  Xena’s smile melded into a sneer. “I’m protecting this company.”

  “Excuse me?” She wasn’t sure she really wanted to know.

  “I get rid of predators who try to get into Bananaville.”

  Ah, that explained the violent exclamations from the other women. “Good for you. I don’t care.” Venus pressed closer. “You are disrupting the work day, and that stops now.”

  “Venus, what are you doing?” Gerry barked from behind her.

  Venus didn’t turn around immediately. She stared down Xena with her best—or worst, depending on how you think about it—stink eye. Then she turned to talk to Gerry. “I’m breaking up a—”

  “Hester is our best security watchdog.” Gerry’s mouth pinched and her shoulders had turned into stiff clothes hangers. “You shouldn’t keep her from doing her job.”

  Venus’s neck kinked in reaction before she could suppress it. She smiled so she could bare her teeth. “I wasn’t keeping her from doing her job. I was telling her how to help everyone else do their jobs better.”

  “What?” Gerry looked more annoyed than curious.

  “The alarm? Who set that up?”

  “It’s always been there.”

  “It’s distracting.”

  Gerry turned into a bulldog. “I see nothing wrong with it. It’s not your job to change the work culture I’ve set up.”

  Venus’s hands went to her hips. It made her seem larger, which worked with both Gerry and the wide-eyed crowd of witnesses. She kept her words polite, but each one rang like an unsheathed dagger. “Let’s not discuss these things in front of everyone. Why don’t we talk in my office?”

  She waited for Gerry to move. Gerry stayed put.

  Venus shifted her weight to one foot. She certainly had time to wait. She kept eye contact with Gerry, who started to flick her gaze around the room. Venus kept steady.

  Finally Gerry turned and walked out. Venus followed. The crowd followed them with their eyes, some frightened, some gleaming with anticipation of good gossip.

  Once in her office, she made sure the door was closed and didn’t allow Gerry to speak. “If you question my authority in front of people again, I will walk. You hired me to get your operations in order. If you’re going to undermine my authority in front of the people I’m supposed to be managing, you’re only hurting your own company.”

  “You’re a stranger. You don’t understand the company policy and culture—”

  “I understand your policy perfectly. And your culture is Bohemian and unorganized. If you keep allowing your employees to be distracted, you’ll continue to miss your milestones and fall further behind schedule. Doesn’t that matter to you?”

  “I won’t have you bullying my people.”

  The way she said it made Venus think she had been about to say, my family. Suddenly, she got it. That was how Gerry saw these women. That was why she ran her company like a matriarch—love and control. Approval and micro-managing. Venus was like…the ex-husband’s new wife.

  Venus held Gerry’s gaze. “In a year, your company will flop, no matter how brilliant your idea is—and yes, it is brilliant. But it’ll all be wasted if you don’t get your operations working efficiently.”

  Gerry’s mouth had opened, but she paused at the word “brilliant.” “You think it’s brilliant?” She tried to keep a stiff-necked demeanor, but her eyes had become beseeching, like a child’s.

  “I’ve been involved in games or game development for most of my life, so I know what I’m talking about. You’re not just another Web-based company—you’re filling a gap in the marketplace.”

  Gerry had become quiet. Still distant, but not as prickly. Venus realized her acrid personality had arisen from insecurity. After all, she wasn’t a fresh, straight-out-of-college engineer anymore—she was in her late thirties, and this was her first business venture. She had everything riding on this.

  “Look.” Venus leaned back to perch on the edge of her desk. “I’m going to be making changes. It’s my job. You have to trust me to know what I’m doing. Drake wouldn’t have hired me if he didn’t think I could bring you back on schedule.”

  Some of her old belligerence appeared in her frown. “I won’t have you threatenin
g my employees.” A mother hen, protective of her children.

  “They’re my employees, too, now. I don’t use threats lightly. If they don’t respect me, then I can’t bring this company to your next milestone. Which is more important to you?”

  She swallowed. “Hester has been here since the beginning.”

  “If Hester doesn’t recognize me as her boss—if she fights me and ends up pulling your company down—are you going to thank her?” Venus didn’t like being so hard on loyal employees, but she had to establish dominance, like the leader of a wolf pack, or she’d be torn apart.

  “Listen…I’ll talk to her.”

  “I want to be there when you do.”

  “What? Why?” A tic worked in Gerry’s neck.

  “If you see her by yourself, it will seem like you’re sneaking around behind my back, and Hester won’t have any reason to listen to me.”

  Her gaze dropped, and her anger melted into acceptance. “I suppose you’re right.”

  “I’ll be the bad cop, if you like. But she has to toe the line. No more alarms, no more distractions.”

  Gerry glanced at her watch. “I have a conference call. I’ll email you when I’m going to talk to her.”

  Venus held her gaze. “You promise? ”

  Gerry’s eyes were honest and firm. “I promise.”

  They understood each other.

  After she left, Esme knocked and came in. “Here’s everything you asked for.” She laid a neat pile of folders on her desk.

  “Th-thanks.” Venus flipped through them. Everything she’d wanted in less than an hour, including a few charts she hadn’t asked for that related to the organizational chart. She straightened and hoped she didn’t look too shell-shocked. “Thank you. This is wonderful.” You’re wonderful! The most competent, intelligent assistant she’d had yet.

  Venus worked for another half hour before Esme suddenly burst into the office.

  “Oh!” She clutched some folders to her chest. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think you’d be in here. I thought you’d be in the meeting …” She bit her lip. “I’m so sorry, I would have knocked if I’d known.”

  “What meeting?”

  Although Esme’s face registered apprehension and apology, there was a gleam in her eye that reminded Venus of a snake before it struck. She shook her head. How ridiculous. Esme was genuinely upset at disturbing her.

  “Didn’t anyone tell you? There’s always an upper management meeting at nine on Fridays.” Esme’s rosebud lips bloomed into a pink O.

  Venus shot to her feet. “Where?”

  “Meeting room number 113. Next to Drake’s office.”

  Venus grabbed her notepad and flew out the door.

  Esme’s anguished voice followed her down the hall. “I’m so sorry I didn’t think to tell you …”

  Venus opened the meeting room door to find four other people around the table. “Sorry, I didn’t know about the meeting until just now.”

  Gerry was back to her normal displeased self. “No one told you? I assumed you knew when we spoke earlier.”

  Venus resisted the urge to smack her.

  Drake motioned to the other two women. “Venus, this is Julie and Carolyn, VPs of Marketing and Sales. This is our new CTO, Venus Chau.”

  She nodded at the two women, who were probably the cornerstone of Bananaville’s income, expanding user numbers and soliciting the sponsors who paid for the opportunity to reach those users.

  They discussed odds and ends, mostly bringing Venus up to speed with marketing campaigns, user numbers, and sponsor lists.

  “Last on the agenda.” Gerry consulted her notes. “I’m going to ask you to do something a bit unusual, but you know I’ve always supported a whole life approach to work.”

  What? Whole life approach? Venus didn’t have a clue what that meant.

  “I wanted us to not only be developing this great product, but to be able to fully understand and experience the worlds of our consumers.”

  Was Gerry asking them to become testers? Bananaville had hoards of testers—all ages, from five to fifteen—to tell them how the games were, and Venus wouldn’t know the first thing about what would appeal to an eight-year-old. Her video game companies had all marketed to mature audiences.

  “We have our family lives, it’s true. I know you two”—Julie and Carolyn—“have children, but I still think it would be a good idea to interact with slices of our consumer base.”

  What? Children?

  “So.” Gerry cleared her throat. “I’ve decided that since we’re marketing to children, we all need to have some experience with our target audience.”

  Experience? As in, what—she wanted Venus to adopt a child? Become pregnant? Maybe she could borrow Trish’s baby. She suppressed a snicker.

  Gerry didn’t notice. “I’d like to have each of you do volunteer work with either children or youth.”

  ELEVEN

  Volunteer work? With children??

  Gerry’s eyes darted around, not making contact with anyone. “I know this is taking time away from our home lives, but Drake and I agreed it will help us to do our jobs better.”

  Venus’s jaw dropped, and she had to quickly snap it shut before someone—namely Drake—noticed. Drake agreed to this? Venus couldn’t even picture him in anything other than an Italian suit. Working with children, being playful?

  “Drake also thinks it will impress the investors that we volunteer with children outside of the company, considering the nature of the product we’re selling.”

  Now that made sense—a dog and pony show for the investors. But…children? Venus didn’t mind kids, but it had galled her that she had been so bad at babysitting. Possibly due to the fact that six-year-olds liked playing Pokémon, which bored her, and got upset when she won.

  “Okay, that’s it for today.” Gerry rose from her seat.

  A touch on Venus’s shoulder. She started, then looked up into Drake’s face. Gerry and the two VPs were already heading out the door.

  “You okay with this?” he asked softly.

  “Sure, cavorting with children is how I like to spend my one day off a week.” She busied herself with gathering her stuff, which was hard to do since she’d only brought a pad of paper and a pen.

  Long, slow exhale. “Venus—”

  “No, really, I understand the reasons why.”

  “Neither of us have experience with younger consumers.”

  “True.” They’d both worked on various games for adults only.

  He didn’t give her a pep talk, didn’t try to justify himself, didn’t even ask what she intended to volunteer for. She knew he wanted to say those things, but he knew she didn’t want to talk about it. She felt both comforted and alarmed at the realization that he knew her so well.

  She shot to her feet, pushing her wheeled chair back. Unfortunately, he had passed behind her at the moment she stood up.

  Her chair jerked to a halt, catching the back of her knees, flinging her torso toward the table. She thrust her hands out to catch herself.

  He grunted, then suddenly his hand was on the small of her back, as if to steady her.

  It burned like a hot iron.

  She whirled to escape his touch, but it only brought her face to face with him instead. His eyes—so familiar and yet so unfamiliarly calm, a still, amber-colored lake. The fire, the energy, the barely contained forcefulness were gone. Had his early heart attack done that for him?

  A faint smile creased his mouth. “I asked you the wrong question yesterday.”

  She didn’t reply. She couldn’t. His look wiped away her brain cells like 409 on grease.

  “Venus, I don’t know if I can work with you.” His eyes glowed, enveloping her with warmth.

  He wanted her.

  She shook her head. “I don’t want this.” She did, but she didn’t. She couldn’t trust him.

  “We’re both married to our work and not other people. You’ll only be here for—”

  “
All you see is the outside.” The bitterness had risen up, like ramen noodles foaming in starchy boiling water. “You never saw me when I was fat even though I saved the company’s butt a couple dozen times. Then later, you only saw me because you could use me, because you had a pretty girl you could ask to join clients and investors for a drink after work…” Her throat closed. The humiliation of the memory still made her shudder, even years later.

  He looked away. “I was different then. The company was everything.”

  “I was different then too.” Too willing to please her high-powered boss, too anxious to be accepted as a vital team member and not the token female. All too happy to do what he suggested…until the client’s sexual overtures had turned her stomach. And Drake’s anger the next day: “You mean you didn’t sleep with him? We might have lost the account.”

  She’d quit that very day.

  “I’m sorry, Venus.”

  His quiet voice had the effect of a thunderclap. Her body jerked. He had never apologized, even when she’d shouted at him the day she quit. He’d been stoic and hard, arrogant in his assertion she should have done it for the company, in his assumption that she slept around.

  No, he hadn’t shown remorse then, but it radiated from him now, like lapping ocean waves. It crumbled her memories of him, water washing away the sand to reveal something hidden underneath. But not buried treasure, something uglier—the bitterness had become such a part of her, it seemed that was all she had in her heart now.

  “What am I supposed to say? That I forgive you for trying to pimp me out to the client?” Her accusation was horribly churlish in the face of his regret, but she couldn’t stop herself.

  His eyebrows raised, then his lip curled slightly. Surprise and disgust at the hardness he saw in her—exactly what she felt about herself at the moment.

  “Let’s just forget it.” She grabbed her paper and pen from the table. “The past never happened. That…” She stumbled over the word. “…kiss never happened. We’re professionals trying to make this company successful. That’s it.”