Chapter 14 #2
Pete doesn’t say anything, but his abruptly caught expression tells Ben more than enough.
“Sorry,” Ben says again, feeling as though the wind has been stolen from his lungs, “are you saying you knew? You knew this was going to happen? This is what you and Rick talked about on Saturday night?” A thought occurs to him, one that applies a hesitant break to his growing anger.
“Wait… did they fire you, too? Did they cancel the show? I thought the numbers were—”
“They didn’t fire me,” Pete says. He’s staring at the floor now. “Or cancel the show. They want another twenty-four episodes, but they just want… me. They think their in-house editors are the more… practical choice.”
For a second, there is dead silence between them. Finally, hollowly, Ben says, “Oh.”
“I…” Pete says, and grimaces. “God, I’m sorry, I was trying to figure out how to tell you, and then everything was happening with my dad, and—”
“But Miranda said.” Ben’s voice is small, which is horrible, but he presses on anyway: “She said that if the videos did well—the voice argument—and they did do well.”
Now staring at the ceiling, in tones that suggest Pete’s opinion of the statement is not a favorable one, he says, “She says that because the spon-con one did the best, and that one had an internal editor inserting the content from those sponsors after you submitted the first cut, that it’s proof that’s the best way forward. ”
This enrages Ben so much that for a moment he can hardly speak.
“But they didn’t have to do anything! They were flat images, I left them the file with a PLACEHOLDER frame for each one, even!
And I would have done it myself except the stupid sponsors didn’t send the files over until after I had to send it to Dave, who apparently only needed forty minutes anyway, and now I’m fired, and—” His cycling thoughts, having looped back to where he was a few minutes ago, return to a salient point: “And you knew, and you didn’t say anything!
You don’t even want to do the stupid show—”
“No,” Pete says; now his gaze is fixed on a point over Ben’s shoulder, and he’s grimacing. Louder, he says, “I don’t want to do the show, but—”
“Pete, how many times do I have to tell you? It’s not always about what you want.” The female voice behind Ben is familiar, but not welcome, and he wheels around to glare at Miranda Culter.
“For God’s sake, can’t we just,” Pete starts, low, but then Miranda lifts a single finger to her lips.
If she had done this to Ben, he would probably have stared at her in incredulity and then asked if she thought he was a toddler.
But Pete, to Ben’s mystification, falls and remains resentfully silent.
“Ben!” She smiles brightly at him; what Ben does in response is more a baring of teeth than a smile. “Sorry you had to make the trip all the way down here for nothing today, but no hard feelings, right?”
“I think,” Ben says, through gritted teeth, “I might have one or two hard feelings, actually.”
“Because it would be a shame,” Miranda continues, as if he hadn’t spoken, “for you to burn a bridge with Gastronome like that. After all, the team on twenty-seven isn’t too pleased with you; doubt you’ll get a good reference there.
They were so upset to hear how cavalier you’ve been with the option to work elsewhere in the building.
‘Shocking,’ is the word Jessica used, when I pulled up the door camera footage and showed her how often you’re simply leaving the premises without letting anyone know. ”
Even as he feels himself flush bright red, Ben sees the expression echoed on Pete’s face. He remembers, too late to do anything about it, that it had been Pete who suggested Ben interpret that section of his new contract a little more loosely than he otherwise would have.
Still, he splutters, “But I got all my work done—”
“But you abused our generosity,” Miranda says, with an expression of such wide-eyed, innocent surprise at his behavior that it loops around to being somewhat mocking.
“You’re lucky that Rick’s willing to overlook it.
He said he’d give you a reference, and we won’t remove your name from any of the existing videos, of course.
Between the numbers on those and, though I hate to give it to him, the strength of Rick’s word, you should be able to find another job easily.
So long, of course, as you don’t make a scene.
” The smile she levels at him this time might as well be a glare, it’s so pointed.
“But after all, why would you? Formica Media has helped you, Ben. You’re in a much better position than you were when we hired you.
Really, you should be saying thank you.”
Ben stares at her, his mouth hanging half-open, for a long moment, trying to formulate a reply to this string of bad-faith nonsense. When he fails, his gaze swings towards Pete, who is standing there like a statue, silent and drawn.
“Are you seriously not going to say anything?” Ben demands of him, hating himself for it, feeling pathetic and worthless and small.
“You’re just going to stand there? After everything?
After we—” He cuts himself off before he can say, “slept together,” but Pete reacts as though he had anyway, a vicious, full-body cringe.
Ruthlessly, ignoring Miranda’s smirk and the way his own voice sounds near tears, Ben carries on.
“You couldn’t even have made the videos without me, you were—no.
You know what? It doesn’t matter. I don’t care about the videos, or my job, even, not really.
It’s just a job! But I thought…” Ben sucks in a harsh breath, trying to get a handle on the thread of real despair he can feel seeping into the words.
“God. But you knew this was coming on Saturday, and you just stopped talking to me and let me walk into it like a—”
“Sorry—you think Pete found out about this on Saturday?” Miranda lets out a tittering little chuckle.
“Honestly, you’re adorable. So naive! I warned him this would happen right at the beginning, didn’t I, Pete?
Go ahead: Tell Ben what I told you after we first hired him.
The very same day we did, if I remember correctly.
” When Pete hesitates, her tone goes sharper, more pointed.
“Go on. Unless you’d like me to tell him?
I’m sure some of what we discussed that day would prove very interesting to him.
All things considered, it might be a public service. ”
Ben doesn’t understand this comment at all, although an expression crosses Pete’s face as if she struck him.
Sounding like it’s costing him his life savings to do so, Pete grinds out, “You said… that I shouldn’t bother to get attached.
That these things always go internal in the end.
” Then, perhaps because he can see the flickering pilot light to Ben’s heart precipitously blowing out, he starts, “But I—”
“Ah, ah, ah,” Miranda says, silencing him this time simply by lifting her index finger.
“That’s enough, Pete, thank you; wouldn’t want to get you all worked up before our next big meeting!
Lots of important sponsors to impress. Ben, if you don’t mind—time for you to leave.
After all, it would be so embarrassing to have security walk you out. ”
“My things,” Ben snaps, remembering them suddenly. “At my desk upstairs, I—”
“We’ll have them couriered,” Miranda says. She reaches up to place two fingertips lightly against the ball of Pete’s shoulder and, as though he is a marionette, turns and steers him towards the elevator banks. Without looking around, she raises her free hand in a lazy wave and calls, “Ciao!”
Pete looks around, though. He stares over his shoulder at Ben like a drowning man, an expression of anguish on his face that, mere hours ago, would have driven Ben to distraction trying to figure out how to help him.
Now he meets Pete’s agonized gaze in furious, stony silence, before turning his back on it and walking out.