Reaching Lily - Vivacia Ahwen K

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      When we reached the elevator, Gwen opened her mouth to say something, but I shook my head. ‘There’s ears everywhere,’ I whispered.

      A deep, resonant voice directly behind me added, ‘Indeed.’

      I turned around, nearly bumping into Dorian Holder, CEO. I was face-to-face with his golden necktie, which stood out like a beacon against his black suit. Was Dorian Holder really so tall, or did he wear shoe lifts? I bet he wore shoe lifts.

      ‘Excuse me, Mr Holder,’ I said, in what I hoped was a frosty tone.

      ‘You’re excused.’ His softened voice was pleasant, and – much to my annoyance – amused.

      But it was neither fear nor anger that made me tense up and struggle to catch my breath. It was Mr Holder’s proximity; he hovered over me so closely. So very, very close. Granted it was crowded in there, and, I thought, sometimes small spaces shrink even smaller with tension. I mean, we were all freaked out by the meeting, and the silence of my coworkers gave a heaviness and gravity to the air. That’s all it is, I told myself. An awkward accident. But is it so tight that Mr Holder’s chest needs to be pressed up against my shoulder? He could have taken either of the other two elevators.

      Except, now that I think about it, they were all heading downstairs, and he was going up.

      Oh, well. Not that I care, now. His borderline frotteuring is now ancient history.

      I got off on the eighteenth floor, not looking back. Just like the night I left my last lover, ‘Father Gerald’, in the dust. Didn’t want to turn into a pillar of salt, ya see. Lot’s wife would not be my lot in life. Dorian Holder didn’t deserve a second look.

      But I felt his stare as I exited the lift.

       He so cannot wait to fire me.

      Taking a yoga breath, I sat down at my cubicle, and struggled to hold back the tears. Why was I such a weeper? No fair. Gwen caught up with me, and crouched down. ‘Look at me, Lily.’

      ‘OK,’ I said with a sniffle.

      See, if someone tells me what to do, even if I’m not sleeping with him/her, I tend to obey. Dorian wasn’t so fucking special.

      ‘You gotta pull it together. Don’t let him get to you like that.’

      I nodded, because were I to say anything, I’d have a full-on ugly cry, and everyone knows you don’t do that shit at the office. Especially when you aren’t wearing waterproof mascara.

      ‘You’ll come up with something brilliant,’ Gwen promised. ‘I have faith in you.’

      I swallowed the lump in my throat and nodded again.

      ‘Too bad he turned out to be such a douchebag.’ Gwen put a hand on my arm. ‘It’s always the hotties. Funny thing, I pictured Dorian Holder as this fat, grey-faced, über-conservative dude with high blood pressure and a bad suit. Kind of like Mr Colossimo, but pinker and with a big nose.’

      I struggled to smile at her, because she was trying so hard to cheer me up. But Gwen knew me better, and her features softened in response.

      ‘You prove to Mr Romeo Document Holder he can’t do that to you, Lily.’ She paused, gripped my shoulders and gave me a shake. ‘You hear me?’

      ‘Mm-hmm.’ I squinted at her. ‘What did you just call him?’

      ‘Romeo Document Holder. The man has a Louboutin briefcase, for fuck’s sake. That’s how into himself he is.’ Gwen was on a roll. ‘No one can mess with you, not the CEO, not Troy Matthews, and not even Father Gerald/Jerry Fitz. Unless you let them. Right?’

      Louboutin. Had to be some hip word about being rich and sexy, and why did I ever tell her about Jerry? ‘Right.’

      ‘Because you’re Lily fucking Dewitt, right?’

      ‘Maybe.’

      ‘Yes, you are.’ She stood up, looked over the expanse of cubicles and sighed. ‘Aw, shit, Lily. Sorry to be “that friend”, but there’s –’

      ‘It’s cool, Gwen. You’ve got stuff to do. We all do, and fast. Listen, I’ll call when I get home.’

      ‘Please do.’

      Thankfully, she left me to my misery, and I lowered my pounding head on my desk. Hey, at least I didn’t run into Troy Matthews. There was always an upside, right? The day could be worse.

      You’re fired. Dorian Holder’s voice was in my head, speaking from what I imagined to be the near future. Run along now, Ms Dewitt.

      Like Gwen said, it’s always the hotties.

      Proudly, I sat up, turned on the computer, and hoped for ‘something brilliant’ to come to me.

       Screw him.

      Ah, well. Good thing I didn’t phone it in, right?

      It’s the little things.

       Chapter Three

       Intern Flat

      Around four o’clock I snuck down to the cafeteria to grab a quick cup of coffee. Since I’d kept my poor team in and out of the meeting room since late morning, with no lunch break whatsoever, I was dying. Wouldn’t Dorian Holder, CEO be so proud of me? As a reward, I let them take off an hour early, and over-apologised. Least I could do. We came up with some decent ideas.

      Apollyon needed something New Agey; the closest we had to yoga DVDs were that Joni Speed Pilates thing I mentioned earlier, and a workout for middle-aged women called ‘Stretchin’ to the Oldies’ featuring some benevolent-looking sixtysomething coach with a long fake braid and vintage Seventies leotards leading a group in something called ‘The Alexander Technique’ while soft rock played in the background. Mr Colossimo firmly believed mind-body wellness was a passing trend. Seriously.

      So let’s throw together a bunch of Yoga videos, and give them away free with a mat. We could start selling blocks and blankets, preferably blessed by His Holiness the Dalai Lama. Also, we could come up with a cookbook full of veggie-juice and smoothie recipes. There was a start. Plus, outside all our weight-training gear, we didn’t have much for guys who were more into outdoorsy workouts. I figured we should come out with a vertical treadmill for climbers, then overcharge on customised bungee cords and carabiners. Our gyms could start including climbing walls. Also, there were no instructional videos of any kind for the fellas, because, as Jay-Jay pointed out, it just seemed too queer. Maybe we could hire someone who was semi-famous and in decent shape to host a series. Hiking, surfing, ice climbing.

      Of course I knew this isn’t what the copy department’s job is, duh. You have no idea how boring it gets writing about the same old gear and trying to make it sound as though Apollyon invented these gadgets. I felt so sorry for the poor tech writers. Anyway, we all agreed that if there were new products that were actually fun to write about, we’d produce higher-quality copy, hence doing our part to increase sales. Why shouldn’t we weigh in on product ideas? So each of us came up with a speculative list of gear, and outlined mock-up advertisements, as though we already had them in stock.

      So I figured I’d take the next fifteen minutes or so to go over our notes, type a half-decent memo which I could edit after a well-deserved night of sleep, send a polite suckup email to Mr Holder, run out the door at five sharp, no ‘staying later to impress the boss’, and pray Adonis wouldn’t be prepared to meet me until the next morning.

      So it wouldn’t look like I was trying to escape, you see.

      Which of course I was.

      OK, so my random act of kindness – letting my team take off slightly early – wasn’t entirely unselfish, nor was it

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