by Heidi Lowe
She got to her feet, pulled on her coat. “You’ll have to let me know how you liked it.”
I tried to hide my disappointment. “You’re not staying?” Our paths would probably never cross again, and oh how I wanted them to. I’d envisioned many more lunchtimes like this — talking and laughing with her about everything and nothing, like best friends who’d known each other their whole lives.
“No, I’ve got a lot to do. See you around.”
“It’s a big city, I doubt that.”
She smiled, I melted. “Stranger things have happened. Goodbye.” She gave me a little wave, blew Mario a kiss, then walked out of the shop, and out of my life forever.
I barely even tasted the calzone, which could have been delicious. My mind stayed on her the whole time.
“Did you go to Mario’s? Did he try to hit on you?” Saeed practically pounced on me the second I stepped into the office.
“I did, and... no, he didn’t. He was too busy asking some other woman to marry him.” Not just any woman, the most beautiful woman in the world. Portraits would be drawn of her, sonnets written about her. That was how beautiful she was. And amicable to boot. I said none of this to him.
He followed me to my office, watched me shimmy out of my coat.
“Naomi’s here. She told me I should send you to her office when you got back from lunch.”
That sense of debilitating dread came over me again. To go from having the nicest, most pleasant lunch with an incredible human being, to this. Not fair.
“Okay, give me a couple of minutes.”
He left me to get myself together, to fix my hair, freshen my breath, straighten out my blouse and skirt. I had to fight to keep the contents of my lunch down. Just get through this initial meeting without screwing up. That’s all you have to do.
I made my way across the room, knocked on the glass door. Inside, the blinds were still closed, giving the room a more ominous, sinister feel than it already had, being the office of evil.
“Come in,” she called out.
I opened the door.
My blood froze. I could almost hear my heart slamming against my chest.
The woman rose to her feet, her eyes unblinking, her smile cruel. “Good to see you again, Miss Adams. Let me formally introduce myself. I’m Naomi Pierre, but you might know me as The Glacier Queen.”
I really should have asked her what she did for a living.
THREE
The room began to spin; I felt lightheaded. This had to be a nightmare from which I would soon wake. I just needed to pinch myself...
I opened my mouth to speak, but the only sound that escaped was a choked gasp. She’d left me speechless on our very first encounter, but for a completely different reason. Her beauty, while still visible, had taken on a more menacing undertone, now that I knew who she was. As though she’d used it in order to trap me into feeling a false sense of security; and now she was going to destroy me with it. Was this how smitten men got scammed out of their fortunes?
I swallowed again, or at least attempted to, but my throat was painfully dry.
How? How? Why? A million questions raced through my mind. How had this happened? Why couldn’t I keep my big mouth shut?
She sat back down, finally taking her eyes off me, returning them to her papers. When she spoke again she didn’t look at me. “We don’t have conventional working schedules here. You’re expected to stay until your work is complete.”
The timbre of her voice was different — once melodic, now unfriendly, businesslike and sharp. It was hard to believe she was the same person I’d spoken candidly to only half an hour prior.
“Uh... of course.” My voice came out tiny, because I knew there was virtually no possible way I would still have my job by the end of the day. The papers she was so engrossed in were no doubt my dismissal documents, which she would have Saeed hand over to me when I returned to my office.
“Once you’ve contacted all of your clients, you’ll be expected to work with them on new branding and marketing ideas. You’re a junior, so most of your campaigns will never see the light of day. That’s just how it works around here.”
I nodded. “Okay,” came my faint whisper. I wasn’t really listening, I was too busy mentally kicking myself for being so stupid.
“Every idea gets run by me before it goes out to our clients,” she went on. Still, she refused to look at me. Not that I blamed her. She’d listened to me badmouth her, insult her without restraint. She’d likely seen enough of me to last a lifetime... or at least the rest of the day, when she could fire me and get me the heck out of her life for good.
“Yes.”
I stayed glued to the spot after she’d finished speaking. Silence filled the room. After a while she looked up and frowned. “Why are you still here?”
“I, uh...” My palms had begun to sweat. That almost never happened to me. “What I, uh, said in the—”
Her eyes returned to her work. “You have calls to make, Miss Adams.”
“Of course. Sorry.” On shaky legs, I hotfooted it out of there.
A sea of nausea settled in the pit of my stomach and wouldn’t shift. It lasted the remainder of the day — during my client calls, throughout the second team briefing. Every time Saeed neared my office, I feared he was bringing bad news, coming to inform me that I’d been given the boot.
The nausea was still there when my coworkers, one by one, packed up and departed for the day, leaving me behind to make callbacks to the clients I’d been unable to reach earlier. I was committed to staying there all night if I had to, hoping to appease Naomi, prove my worth and determination. Anything to get me into her good books. But we’d had the worst start imaginable; was such a thing possible?
By the time I switched off my computer and packed up my stuff, it was half past seven. Outside, the world had already faded to black, a sign that winter was fast approaching.
I took one, final, melancholy look at my office, suspecting it would be the last time I saw it, then slumped out. As I made my way miserably to the elevator, my stomach did backflips when I spotted Naomi. My eyes searched frantically for the staircase, hoping to avoid riding the elevator with the woman who now hated my guts. I came up trumps.
I stood beside her, and when she looked over at me, I offered her a smile, which she didn’t return. Naturally.
“I’m assuming you got through all of your calls, Miss Adams?”
“Every last one.”
God didn’t answer my prayers when I begged him to send another soul to ride the elevator with us, to remove at least some of the awkward tension. There was no one else to send, everyone else had gone home already. So when those doors closed, locking us inside together for what seemed like a never-ending journey down to the basement, I knew I would have to address the humongous elephant in the room.
“I’m really sorry I said what I said.” The words spilled out before I could stop them.
She didn’t react, not even a little.
“I’m a jerk, and I was just talking.”
Still no reaction. The ride was almost over.
“Please don’t fire me.”
I watched the faintest smile creep to her lips. She looked so cool, calm and collected standing beside me, who was thisclose to falling apart.
“On what grounds would I fire you?”
Did she want me to spell it out for her, repeat my crime, so to speak? Relive the whole terrible faux pas?
“For... for misspeaking.”
“That’s a nice way of putting it.”
Thankfully, the doors flew open in the underground parking lot, and we stepped off the elevator. She sped off towards the only car left, a shiny black Lexus sedan, and I rushed to keep up with her.
“I just want a chance to prove myself to you. I’m an extremely hard worker. Please don’t hold my big, stupid mouth against me.”
She stopped abruptly, right outside her car. “I can’t fire you for having an opinion, Miss Adams. But
let me be very clear, so there’s no misunderstanding: I’m going to work you to the bone, and you’re going to wish you were still an assistant. Every day, every week, every month until you break. This promotion’s going to look like a lifetime in Hell by the time I’m finished with you. You were expecting The Glacier Queen, and that’s exactly what you’re going to get. Goodnight.”
She climbed into her car and drove off, leaving me gaping, unable to speak.
Brit was still cackling five minutes after I’d finished telling her about my day.
“You’re sadistic!” I said. “It’s really not funny.”
We were sitting in the living room, sharing half a bottle of wine, a much-needed beverage to flush away the day’s horrors. I’d climbed straight into the shower the second I got in, and stayed under until all the hot water was gone. Now I sat in my bathrobe, my feet up on the couch, a towel wrapped around my head.
“Oh, but it is. That’s just like you. She sounds fiendish. I love her already.”
No surprise there. Brit always rooted for the bad guys and villains, in books, movies and real life. Her favorite genre was true crime.
I hit her with a cushion, which she deflected, still laughing hysterically.
“I have to find a new job. You should have seen the look in her eyes, Brit. Relish, like she lived for this. And to think...”
I sipped my wine, didn’t finish my sentence. Brit gave me a look. “To think what?”
“Nothing. Just, how could someone so attractive be so mean?”
“Attractive people are always mean,” she said offhandedly. “When you look great you get to be a bitch.”
I shook my head in disbelief. “So who was the woman I met and spoke to in the cafe, huh? The sweet, kind, funny woman who’d listened to me babble, smiling the whole time?”
“Maybe she has a twin, and she’s the evil one.”
That had occurred to me at first, for a split second, until she spoke, confirming that we’d already met. No, I was dealing with Dr Jekyll and Mrs Hyde.
I downed what was left of my glass, slumped against the couch. “What am I gonna do? If I quit I’ll only be able to get another job as assistant, pushing me back at least two years.”
She shrugged. “Suck it up!” That was her answer to everything, as though it was a genuinely actionable solution. “Deference, that always works.”
I wasn’t so sure.
Colin’s kisses failed to comfort me that night. Brit had retired to her bed early, to get what she deemed beauty sleep. Colin had stopped by without calling, surprising me.
He kissed my cheeks, my neck, and his lips lingered. I knew he wanted more; he always wanted more. But we never took it further. God, he often reminded, was omnipresent — always watching. Sex before marriage was a no-no, even if I’d had plenty prior to becoming a Christian. You got do-overs.
“It’s going to be all right,” he insisted, releasing me when he sensed my resistance to his kisses. “She can’t fire you, she’s right about that.”
“But she can ruin my life.”
“Do your job to the best of your ability and you’ll have nothing to worry about.”
He didn’t see that spiteful glint in her eye when she promised to destroy me. That was the look of a woman scorned. And I only had myself to blame.
“My mom always said my mouth would get me into serious trouble one day. She didn’t teach me much, but that stuck with me.”
She was probably looking up at me, shaking her head, saying, “I told you so, idiot!”
He rubbed my shoulder. “I promise everything will work out. And hey, your boyfriend’s a lawyer. If she does anything prejudicial, just let me know.”
His visit was brief. He kissed me on my forehead, hugged me, then left. I climbed into bed and tried to get to sleep. To no avail. Images of the day’s horrific events replayed in my head, making me cringe over and over.
As far as screw ups went, this one took the cake.
To my relief, we didn’t see each other for my first two weeks on the job. Or rather, I saw her briefly around the office, but we didn’t exchange any words. Mainly because Naomi spent more than half her time out of the office, in meetings with prospective clients. I got on with my work, got to know my coworkers a bit better, and started to relax a little.
“So you’re a real dyed-in-the-wool Christian?” one of my coworkers, Gaynor, asked me the second Friday, while we were having coffee in the break room. A woman in her late thirties, she was the main breadwinner in her home; her husband wrote part time and took care of their three children.
I laughed. “I guess. Born again, five years now.”
“That’s pretty cool. So you don’t believe in sex before marriage?”
It was at this point that Naomi entered the room. She didn’t acknowledge either of us, just made herself a coffee like we weren’t there.
I felt my face flush. “It’s sort of one of the big ones,” I said, trying to keep my words neutral, so as not to come off too inappropriate in front of the boss.
“Are you planning on getting married any time soon?” Gaynor said with a laugh. “I mean, I’m married now but I couldn’t have done what you’re doing. I wasn’t built that way.”
“Well Colin hasn’t asked... yet,” I said, feeling increasingly more uncomfortable discussing this with Naomi in the room. “But that’s where it’s going. We’ve been together five years.”
“I suppose there is some comfort in being a Christian, and getting to know someone without complicating things with... the physical, you know.” She too was watching her words.
Coffee poured, Naomi turned to face us, mug in hand. Her mug said Bruges on it, which I’d never heard of. Was it a place in Hawaii?
“Miss Monroe, I believe your break is over,” she said, then took a sip of her coffee as she watched Gaynor nervously take hers and leave.
I got up, ready to do the same.
“Did I hear that you’re a Christian, Miss Adams?”
I stopped at the door. “Uh, yes. Born again.”
That wicked little smile returned. She nodded. “Out of curiosity, what do Christians think about the LGBT community?”
She was trying to trick me into saying something sackable, I just knew it. Well, nice try. “Tolerance is one of the biggest virtues,” I said carefully.
“That’s not what I asked.”
“Some Christians might have a problem with... with it, but—”
“And you. Are you... tolerant, Miss Adams?”
“Absolutely.” I prayed I sounded convincing. “Live and let live, that’s my motto.”
“Good to know. You can get back to work now.”
I couldn’t put my finger on it at the time, but something told me I’d just walked right into a snare. You didn’t smirk like that for no reason.
Then an hour later, she called me into her office.
Only on my second visit there did I notice how large her office was inside. The size of my living room, and kitted out just like one. Gray leather couch, plasma screen fixed to the wall, private water cooler, mini fridge, and a two-door closet. The perks of being a senior exec.
“Next week, I’m meeting with a potential client. I’d like you to join me,” she said, once I’d closed the door.
My spirits rose. “Really? You want me?” I knew this kind of thing was commonplace; the seniors often took a junior with them to pitch for new business. I never dreamed I’d get the chance so early on in my career — on my second week.
“I couldn’t think of anyone more suitable to assist me in putting together a campaign.”
Maybe she wasn’t so bad after all. Maybe this was her way of showing that all was forgiven.
“Thank you. I won’t let you down.”
She smiled. “I know.”
“Who’s the client?”
The smirk returned to her face. “Rainbow Wares, the utensil company.”
“I’ve never heard of them before.”
“They�
�re the only gay-owned utensil company in the world, and serve the LGBT market.”
The pleasure she derived from watching my face fall gave her life.
“That won’t be a problem for you, will it?” She leaned back in her seat, and watched me squirm. Oh, she was good.
I swallowed. My voice came out cracked, winded. “N—no, no problem.”
FOUR
Tap-tapping on my bedroom door the following morning startled me out of my reverie. I looked up from my laptop screen as Brit let herself in without permission.
Her grin was salacious. “He’s gone. And wowza, what a night!”
My glare spoke volumes. “I heard...” The bed thumping against the wall, the animalistic howling and growling — it was like trying to sleep next door to a zoo! Even when the ruckus stopped, however, I’d been unable to fall asleep.
“That guy might have been in his fifties, but he had the stamina of someone half his age.”
I tutted, put up a hand to silence her. “Please spare me the details.” I should have known better, though. My discomfort only ever encouraged her to go on. How I’d managed to live with her this long still dumbfounded me. “Do you even remember his name?” She’d swapped last week’s piece of meat for a newer, or older, one. She didn’t discriminate.
She thought for a moment, rubbing her chin. Her hair was a mess, her night gown crumpled. “John... Jack... Something starting with a J. Or G...” She shrugged. “But that’s the fun of it.”
I rolled my eyes. Today was not the day for her antics. I had much more pressing matters to attend to.
I stared dejectedly at my blank Adobe InDesign document, something I’d been doing for hours, and still nothing came to me.
“Gonna head to the pool for a swim. You coming?” Brit said. I didn’t realize she was still in the room.
A couple of laps in our local pool would have done me good. Usually. Nothing like breaststroking fifty meters to take my mind off my troubles, albeit temporarily. But this wasn’t a problem a swim would solve; I knew the creative juices simply wouldn’t flow no matter what I tried, which was exactly what The Glacier Queen wanted. She’d given me this assignment deliberately to stifle me, to nudge me into throwing in the towel.
