Chapter 8
8
The next morning I wipe the sleep from my eyes and refocus on the camera monitor as Jessie Fig’s full lips curve into a wistful smile. She finishes retelling the story of the dreamiest first date as she swoons to the camera, gripping the arm of her beanie-clad boyfriend, Ezra.
He laughs sheepishly. “I never wanted that date to end. I knew she was The One when the waiters had to tell us they wanted to go home, we were the last ones there!”
“I guess it was... Fate.” Jessie beams.
I internally fist pump as she finishes off the line with a coquettish, yet natural shrug. They look right at home in front of the hot lights. After the panel talk, I pitched her the idea of her and Ezra hosting a new Fate-sponsored dating-advice podcast designed to destigmatize the idea of finding love on dating apps. The set is simple but beautiful, a hyper-styled dusty-pink living room with sage-green accents. These video spots are for a social media ad campaign that will run in the next few weeks to promote the podcast. Compared to when I’ve dealt with other projects like this, I feel strangely calm. Both Jessie and Ezra have strong, loyal followings; the advice podcast is a clean, easy listen that’s tried and tested; it has a clear pipeline to retaining users. Practically foolproof.
As Jessie and Ezra redo the last few takes, performing their lines with a slightly different tone and delivery each time, my attention is taken up by the rest of today’s work schedule. I list each point in my head:
- Brainstorming ideas with the wider team for Fate’s Christmas campaign
- Summer influencer campaign reporting
- Finalizing contracts for pop-up date spot in West London
- And... eventually, working on the Ditto project.
I have a few initial ideas I need to get down on paper, but Bancroft is probably much further along than me. His upper hand is so high it’s punching through the roof of his fancy high-rise apartment. He had prior knowledge of the project and a boss that gives him control of his own schedule. I’m reeling from the news and I have... Susie.
Right on cue, her name fills my phone screen and it vibrates violently. Sucking in a deep, deep breath, I place the receiver next to my ear.
“Hi, Susie. How are you?” The fake smile plastered across my face seems to make the words sound cheery. “Is everything OK at the office?”
“Darling, I’m not in today. I have a lunch.”
I furrow my brow and turn to the clock on the white-painted brick wall; it’s 12:30 p.m. “Is everything OK?” I repeat.
“I need you to run the acquisition numbers for last month’s UK and Europe events by end of the day.”
I hesitate. “All of them?”
There are close to thirty across the country alone and will take hours to put together. Fuck. My palms start to sweat as dread fills my chest.
“I... I don’t think I’ll be able to finish that tonight. I’m on a shoot all day today and have to work on the Ditto project tonight.”
She sends a loud sigh down the line, and we stay in silence for a few moments.
“Darling, it’s been a week since you agreed to this overzealous project and it’s already stopping you from doing your actual job. I’m not impressed.” My heart begins to pound in my temples. “I need those numbers by tomorrow morning! Who is going to do the report?”
I creep into the corner of the room before I respond. I don’t need an audience for what I’m about to say, or the reaction I’m sure to get.
“Ummm, maybe... you could do it? After your lunch.”
The silence this suggestion receives is deafening. I hold my breath to try and stop words from tumbling out. A long, annoyed sigh blasts through the phone.
“Or... if you gave me more time...” I offer, wincing at my own inadequacy.
“Fine. I’ll give you an extension just this once, but you can’t keep shirking your responsibilities like this.”
I purse my lips and nod instinctively to no one. “Wow, thank you so much, Susie. That’s so kind of you.” The sarcasm in my voice is lost, replaced with the gratitude sweeping through me at such a quick resolution.
“You’re welcome. I’m sure you’ll make it up to me soon.”
She hangs up before I can reply.
An hour later, as we finalize one of the last interview shots and wait for Jessie to touch up her makeup, Ezra pulls me aside, his forehead slick with sweat under his beanie hat.
“I was wondering if we could do one last video after we’ve finished everything you wanted?”
I check the clipboard. “But you guys did great. We have everything we need.”
“I have something I want to say to Jess.” He shoots me a shrewd smile and wiggles his eyebrows cartoonishly. “Trust me, you’re going to want to get this on video.”
My stomach knots as I study his face, and I try to think of a million different things I can say to talk him out of what I suspect he is about to do. The blend of excitement and nervousness, uncertainty and hope. The memory of William down on one knee and that very same look on his face hits me so hard I step back.
“So I’ll give you a signal and you can just pretend like we have to reshoot our entrance,” he instructs while wringing his hands together.
After a few minutes, he gives me a subtle nod, an edge of fear clouding his usually confident demeanor. I clear my throat and lean toward the crew.
“Thanks, everyone. Jessie, Ezra, can we just do one more take for B-roll? I need you both walking onto the set and sitting down.”
We reset, and I watch from behind the camera as Jessie walks into the frame and takes her usual starting spot, but instead of sitting next to her, Ezra gets down on one knee, his eyes already glassy with tears. A chorus of “awwwww” radiates from the crew as if they’d rehearsed it. Jessie gasps, her hands covering her mouth as if she’s trying to stop herself from immediately screaming her answer.
Ezra’s voice is shaky but confident. As though he hasn’t practiced but knows exactly what to say. He tells her that he has loved her since they met, and he can’t imagine life without her. Blood pounds against my eardrums and a prickling heat creeps up my neck and across my face. I swallow the familiar feeling of panic and try to focus on the camera’s red light, making sure it is on and recording. She starts frantically nodding before he even finishes, tears quietly streaming down her face. When he finally asks her to be his wife, she jumps into his arms to a wave of claps, sniffles and whoops radiating from everyone on set. Jessie and Ezra laugh through wet, happy sobs as he slides a ring with a huge, vibrant emerald surrounded by sparkling diamonds onto her manicured finger.
We wrap soon after, Jessie and Ezra practically running out of the building to the champagne-bottle-and-white-rose-filled limousine he had waiting outside to whisk her away for a surprise post-proposal vacation. The crew pack down the cameras and lighting and quickly filter out on to the next shoot. I decide to use staying behind to clean up as my excuse for not heading back to the office. It’s 2:30 p.m., and most of the team will be out at lunch or in meetings by now. I can’t bring myself to be around other people just yet.
I collect up the cushions from the dimly lit faux–living room. My breathing becomes more rapid as I stuff each cushion into a refuse bag, the soft fabric contorting and pushing against the clear plastic. My hands shake as I knot off the yellow ties, dropping the bag at my feet. My eyes water and I sense the hot sting of a tear escaping down my face. Another catches up with the first, and another, and another, until I can’t control the flow and the dam completely breaks. My chest tightens, and I feel like I can’t breathe but also am breathing too much. I’m hyperventilating between intense sobs and can’t stop.
“Grace?”
The familiar, comforting voice coming from the studio door makes me jump, and I quickly wipe my drenched cheeks on the sleeve of my jacket. Yemi strides over and sits next to me, leaning in and stroking my back.
I angle my face away from her and swipe at the last remaining wet streaks on my cheeks. “Hey, what are you doing here?”
“Thought I’d pop in to see if you were free for lunch. What’s wrong?”
“I’m fine...” I gasp, my voice squeaking out like the absolute furthest thing from fine. “... everything’s fine.”
Yemi doesn’t say anything, giving me space to gather my thoughts rather than scramble in the dark for an answer. I eventually relent, leveling my breathing for long enough to get out a full sentence.
“Jessie Fig’s boyfriend just proposed in front of everyone.”
Yemi’s eyes close briefly, understanding immediately.
“He had everything planned. Then he just did it. In front of everyone, the whole crew and it...”
I flop backward and let my neck dangle over the edge of the sofa, as though clearing my airway might clear the emotional weight sitting on my chest.
Her eyes soften as she joins me. “You don’t have to talk about it. But if you want to, it doesn’t leave this surprisingly uncomfortable sofa. OK?”
I let out a snotty snort and put my hands over my face, hiding the shame seeping out of my pores.
My phone dings with a calendar notification:
3pm: Ditto partnership meeting .
“Fuck, I have to go. I have a call with El Turo about the Ditto project in five minutes.” I wipe my final tears on my sodden sleeve and stand up, head aching with a post-breakdown haze. “Urgh, I don’t know how I’m going to handle Bancroft on the date test run. I’m a mess. He’s going to sense it and pounce while I’m weak. Maybe I am just better off letting him have the promotion.”
Yemi takes my shoulders tightly and twists me to face her. Her eyes are soft but serious. “Listen, Grace, you made the right decision.” She shakes me one last time as I steel myself, exhaling anxiety like hot, foggy breath into cold air. “Take a moment. Get it together. Then make the call and get that promotion.”