by Hazel Kelly
“In between the snapshots,” she said. “One word at a time.”
“I thought you wanted the frames to flash rapidly?”
“I do,” she said. “And I know it’s a risk for the actual message to move fast as well, but I think it could work to our advantage.”
“Go on.”
“Well, even if a viewer misses a word or two the first time around, that should only increase how likely they are to pay attention the next time.”
“Because brains like to solve puzzles.”
“So you get it.”
“Not only do I get it,” I said, “but I think it could be great. Not to mention well within budget, which the client will love.”
She straightened in her chair. “I figured we’d keep the message in the commercial similar to the one in the print ad for consistency. So it would say something like, ‘Make new memories without sacrificing your old ones.’”
“We’ll have to lock that down verbatim before Thursday.”
“Along with the final image,” she said. “I think that’s vital.”
“What were you thinking?”
“A plain white background featuring a passport with a Fujama SD card on it, and that shot will remain for several seconds.”
“Which will feel like an eternity after the rapid-fire images.”
She nodded. “What do you think?”
“I think the passport could confuse the final message. It might be more effective to just have the product and the brand name.”
“I could see that.”
“I also think you’re not being paid enough.”
She smiled. “Thanks, Landon. That really means a lot.”
“I mean it, Margot. If we land this campaign, it’ll create a lot of business for the firm, and it’s only fair that you be compensated for your contribution.”
“Let’s land it first and deal with that later.”
“Sounds good. I just wanted you to know that I’m in your corner, and I’ll go to bat for you if I have to.”
“Thanks,” she said. “As far as my last idea, it’s actually based on the final image.”
“Shoot.”
“I think you could suggest to them, even though they haven’t asked, that if they ever wanted to run an ad in airline magazines, they could use that final image—the one with the passport.”
I raised my eyebrows as she pulled a sketch from a brown folder to her left and slid it across the corner of the table towards me.
“Under the items, it could simply say ‘Travel Light’ or ‘Packing List’ with a checked box next to the words ‘passport’ and ‘Fujama memory card.’”
I stared at the page.
“Something like that,” she said. “Which, personally, if I were traveling, would fill me with vorfreude.”
I furrowed my brow. “Vorfreude?”
“The happiness you experience from imagining future pleasures.”
“Which is pretty much why people buy memory cards in the first place.”
“Bingo,” she said. “So?”
“So I think you should present it on Thursday.”
She shook her head.
“It’s your baby, after all, and it would be a great opportunity to demonstrate that you can bring a project from seed idea to pitch on your own.”
“Not a chance.”
“Why not?” I asked.
“Because speaking in front of people isn’t my idea of a good time.”
“You can’t grow if you don’t leave your comfort zone, though, and I’ll be right there in the room with you.”
“I’m not ready for that, Landon. Trust me. I’m not.”
“Just because Matt spoke over you your entire childhood doesn’t mean you can’t speak for yourself now. No one is going to interrupt you in that meeting.”
“You don’t understand.” Her pretty face grew serious. “I deliberately bombed a test in eighth grade so I wouldn’t have to give the valedictorian speech at graduation.”
I narrowed my eyes at her and noticed her hands were gripping the edge of the table so hard her knuckles had gone white.
“This isn’t a quirk or a preference. I have a real fear of public speaking. Honestly, if I thought I had to present this stuff on Thursday, I’d have too much anxiety to come to work tomorrow. Please.”
“Jesus, all right. You’ve made your point.”
Her shoulders relaxed. “I know it’s a hard thing for someone like you to understand, but—”
“What do you mean someone like me?”
“Someone who doesn’t mind being in the spotlight.”
“I think you have me confused with someone else,” I said. “I don’t enjoy speaking in front of people. I just get on with it. Like an adult.”
Her eyes drooped at the corners. “It kills me to let you down by not jumping at the chance, but—”
“You haven’t let me down,” I said. “Ever.”
She pressed her lips together.
“And you never could, okay? No matter what.”
Her blue eyes held mine for so long the room faded away, and I could’ve sworn I felt something shift inside me. Something I hadn’t felt before. Something that made me think I might actually have it in me to love someone again.
But I decided not to dwell on it.
Because in three days’ time, I was going to betray her trust.
S E V E N T E E N
- Margot -
It was the biggest day of my post-college career to date, and despite tossing and turning all night, I was confident that my adrenaline (coupled with a double espresso) would get me through.
I wore my power blue jacket, the same one I wore for my interview, and a skirt and heels that made me look as tall as I wanted to feel.
“Are you ready for this?” Landon asked, draining his Starbucks before rising from the chair behind his desk.
My clammy palms tightened their grip on our presentation binders. “Shouldn’t I be asking you that?”
“Take some deep breaths,” he said, walking around his desk. “And remember that all the executives we’re about to meet have mothers who used to change their diapers and wipe their snotty noses.”
“That’s your secret, is it?”
“My secret is to speak uncomfortably slowly,” he said, straightening his tie as he stepped up to me. “Less is more when it comes to chatting up clients.”
“Good to know.”
“I also like to keep in mind that there’s not a single person in that room who wants me to fail. They all want me to deliver a great pitch, they want to love it, and they want to leave with the deal done.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
“Besides, we know this thing inside out.”
I nodded. I certainly did. This campaign was all I’d thought about for weeks, which made the pressure of the day seem surreal.
“How do I look?” he asked, stretching his hands out and fixing his eyes on me.
“Very capable,” I said, admiring him. “And even a little handsome.” It was a massive understatement. His dark gray suit made his eyes pop, and his hair was a tad too long, so every now and then a piece would fall over his forehead and he’d flick it back like he was at the beach. That being said, I was confident it wasn’t working against him.
“Thanks,” he said. “That’s helped more than all my cheesy reminders combined.”
My eyes smiled. “I’m glad.”
“You don’t look so bad yourself,” he said, tilting my chin up with his fingers. “In fact, I’d say you look like a woman who’s about to land her first ad campaign.”
“That’s sweet of you to say,” I said. “I hope you’re right.”
“After you,” he said, extending a palm towards the door. “Conference room C.”
I spun on my heels and led the way.
“I always crush it in conference room C,” he whispered as he followed me down the hall. “In case you were wondering why I booked that one.”
“Good to know,” I said over my shoulder.
When we reached our destination, I pushed the door open and held it for him, hoping he’d go in first. Instead, he held the door, and I was forced to enter before him. There were six people in the room, all of whom were twice my age and looked like they were wearing clothes that cost twice what I’d be earning this year.
Landon shook everyone’s hands, though it seemed he’d only met two of the people before, and I followed suit before taking one of the empty chairs at the oval-shaped table.
He started by making an introduction and dishing out a few pleasantries about how exciting it was to work with such a reputable, well-liked company. He even cited a few other clients he’d worked with, casually spilling some numbers that lent credibility to his track record before turning his focus to their particular project.
I was on the edge of my seat, making a conscious effort not to bounce my foot like I (and the coffee beans running through my veins) so wanted to. But I dared not interfere with the way he commanded the room. He didn’t even flinch when people made notes while he was talking, which would’ve filled me with dread.
I even made a few notes myself as I studied how he paced the pitch and how he presented our market research. In fact, I was so absorbed, I almost didn’t hear my name.
“Margot’s actually the one who came up with the concept for the commercial, so I’m going to have her go ahead and explain our vision to you in detail,” he said. “I think you’ll find that her understanding of consumer psychology has inspired an exciting idea that will fortify the entire campaign.”
I stared at him.
A few of the Fujama people eyed me before turning back to the front of the room.
I felt a wave of sick rise up my throat as Landon headed my way, and by the time he sat down beside me and slid the PowerPoint clicker across the table, my stomach felt like it was full of bubbling battery acid.
I blinked at him.
He cocked his head towards the front of the room, gesturing for me to get my ass up there.
I wrapped my clammy hand around the clicker and stood up, still undecided as to whether I was going to use it or walk out of the room with it. As I stepped past Landon, I prayed that he would grab my arm and pull me back, that he would change his mind. But he didn’t.
I went from frightened to angry before I’d even turned to face the client, which I somehow managed to do before clearing my throat, desperate to buy myself some time. When I glanced at Landon again, he lifted his pointer finger to his cheek and smiled, reminding me to do the same.
And right when I was about to faint, I thought of Izzy and remembered a conversation we’d had recently about doing things before you’re ready. She told me all you had to do was pretend you were someone else, someone who was ready. And just be them. Just act.
She assured me that “be yourself” was shitty advice, insisting it was much better to “be whoever can get the job done.”
I rolled my shoulders back, lifted my chin, and took a deep breath. Then I smiled and started talking.
I don’t know what I said. I know I smiled like an idiot, forgot to turn the slides over, and gripped the clicker in my hand so hard I must’ve thought it could open a trap door beneath me. But at least I remained on my feet.
And after an eternity of staring directly at people’s hairlines, I stopped talking abruptly, as if I’d been reading from a book and discovered the next page was missing.
“Would you mind mentioning the idea you had for the airline magazine briefly?” Landon asked. “Before we wrap up?”
“Of course,” I said, delighted to have been pulled back from the cliff’s edge…even if it was by the same man I intended to choke the life out of the minute meeting was adjourned.
As soon as I finished, Landon thanked me and stood up, gesturing for me to sit down again.
I hurried to the closest chair like it was the last lifeboat on the Titanic before wrapping my fingers around the edge of the seat and focusing on my breathing until the nausea subsided.
I didn’t hear a word he said for the next five minutes, nor could I remember a single person’s name as I shook their hands again on my way out. It was all a blur.
The only thing I recall is practicing Izzy’s self-defense moves in my head so I’d be ready to kick Landon’s sneaky, backstabbing ass the second I got him alone.
E I G H T E E N
- Landon -
I escorted the Fujama folks to the elevator and confirmed a time to follow up, doing my best to act casual about how well the presentation had gone.
Not only was I pleased with my own pitch, having performed even better with Margot in attendance than I normally would, but she was fantastic.
I expected her to be a little nervous. Anyone would be after being ambushed like that. But she crushed it. She kept a smile on her face, didn’t overseason her presentation with ums and likes the way most recent grads might, and her enthusiasm was contagious.
There’s no way it even occurred to the client that it was her first time pitching. Best of all, there was no doubt in my mind that they’d take the deal and maybe even become regular clients if we could execute our vision as well as we’d sold it.
As soon as the elevator doors closed, I turned towards her, expecting to be met with a big sigh of relief and a smile.
Instead, her mouth formed a straight line and her eyes grew icy. “Could I have a word?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Maybe in your office,” she said, heading for it straightaway.
I had to walk quickly to keep pace with her as she marched down the hall, and I couldn’t help but notice that her hands were balled into tight fists.
She acknowledged my assistant on her way by, and I did the same, forcing a smile even though I was beginning to suspect it wasn’t rainbows and gumdrops Margot wanted to talk about.
I closed the door behind me as she spun around and threw her outstretched hands in the air. “What the fuck, Landon?!”
“What?”
“How could you do that to me?!” She flattened a palm against her forehead and then gestured towards the door. “After I opened up to you about how I wasn’t ready?!”
I stepped towards her. “But you were ready. You nailed it.”
“No, I didn’t. All I did was crap myself in front of a room full of people!”
“Your enthusiasm is going to land us that deal.”
“You don’t know that,” she said. “You threw me under the bus for no reason. Why would you risk both our jobs over something so totally unnecessary?!”
I set my briefcase down and took another step forward, my hands on display as if I were approaching a wild cat. “It wasn’t a risk. If you’d panicked or refused, I would’ve taken over.”
“That’s not fair.”
“The only thing that seems unfair to me is the fact that you can’t admit how well you did.”
She took a step sideways. “Don’t come any closer. I seriously want to kill you right now.”
“You should be thanking me. As far as I’m concerned, your performance in there is going to seal the deal on you getting a permanent position.”
Her eyebrows lifted for a moment. “Yeah?”
I took another step. “I don’t see why not. If—”
Her face fell again. “Don’t change the subject. That’s not the point.”
“What’s the point?” I asked, stepping forward and forcing her back against the wall.
“The point is that you stabbed me in the back when I told you I wasn’t willing to—”
“You don’t get it, do you?”
“Get what?”
“How brilliant you are,” I said. “Do you have any idea how badly I want to keep that to myself? How easy it would be for me to take credit for your work, to help you hide how talented you are?”
She swallowed.
“But that wouldn’t be fair to you.”
Her chest rose and fell in front of
me as I dragged a finger down the open V of her collared shirt, my eyes traveling farther than her buttons would let me go.
“You’re not my boss,” she breathed. “You don’t know what’s good for me.”
“Bullshit,” I said, fixing my eyes on hers. “I am what’s good for you.”
She grabbed my face and kissed me, opening her mouth to mine so she could breathe me in.
I yanked her wrists down and pressed them against the wall, pinning her against it as she cocked her hips towards me. A moment later, I pushed her jacket off her shoulders, and it fell to the floor in a heap as my fingers returned to her buttons.
My heart raced as I kissed her, and when I paused for breath, I glanced down at the top of her bra, my eyes tracing along the edge that cut across her gorgeous breasts, breasts I’d only ever imagined catching a glimpse of.
She threw her arms around my neck and pressed her hips against my dick so hard she could’ve taken my pulse.
I pulled her skirt up around her thighs and forced a hand between them, my mouth watering as I found the place where her underwear was burning up. It soaked through the moment I applied pressure.
“Shit,” I growled against her lips. “Do you always get this wet?”
“Only for you,” she panted, moving against my hand.
I wanted to tease her more, but I was too starved for her, unable to pace myself when my mind and body were already several steps ahead.
“Don’t stop,” she whimpered, her warm breath against my lips.
I pulled the light fabric of her thong down and moved my hand back to the silk between her legs, sliding my fingers along her slit.
She shuddered when I grazed her clit, and I increased the pressure on it until she moaned in my mouth.
It turned me on like crazy to hear her make that new sound, that sound only a woman can make. I spread her open with my fingers, kissing her harder when I felt her clench around me.
The weight of her body sank against my hand, her legs growing weak as I fucked her with my fingers, curling them inside her as I reached as deep as I could.
I leaned my head back and watched her eyelids flutter as a glassy bliss passed over her face.
