Ashlei
Brandon is looking at me like a dog he’s about to put down.
His eyes are laden with concern, brows pinched together, jaw tense and lips thinned into a flat line to keep him from saying the multitude of things I know he wants to.
He rests his hands on my shoulders, gently rubbing — up, and then down — like he wishes he could somehow change my mind with that touch.
“Stop looking at me like that.”
“I’m just not sure about this,” he confesses, swallowing hard, his dark eyes searching mine. “We have no control over how that room will respond. It could be a disaster.”
“Or, it could be the end of all our worries,” I counter.
He rolls his lips together, skepticism rolling off him in waves.
“Look,” I whisper, stepping closer to him. “Whether they react the way I want them to is irrelevant at this point, because the truth of the matter is that Kimberly knows. Okay? She knows about us, and she’s going to out us.”
“She hasn’t yet.”
“Because she’s been waiting for the perfect time, for the opportunity that would hurt us most.”
Brandon frowns. He knows it’s true.
“And I’m not going down like that,” I finish, sneaking a kiss on his cheek before pulling back and straightening my blazer. “If anyone’s going to tell my story, it’s me. Period.”
“You could ruin your career,” he says softly, solemnly.
My rib cage squeezes, but I just smooth my hands over my skirt next, holding my shoulders back, my chin high.
“Trust me, I’ve been through much worse than this.” I blink, Xavier’s face flashing behind hot lids. “I’ve been through real ruin. And if I can survive that, if I can rebuild from ashes, I can damn sure rebuild from sexist, judgmental assholes.”
I sniff, grabbing my folder and clipboard from Brandon’s desk.
“Ready?”
But he’s just watching me.
A smile spreads on his face as he makes his way around his desk, framing my face with his hands. “This,” he whispers, eyes flicking back and forth between mine. “This is why I can’t leave you alone.”
I let out my next breath on a sigh, smiling a little as I lean into his hand. I kiss his palm, stealing another breath before holding out my arm not wrapped around my binder.
“Well,” I say. “How do I look?”
“Like a woman on a mission.”
“Perfect.” I nod, swallowing down any doubt or fear that’s left. “Let’s do this.”
My knees don’t shake as I strut my ass out of Brandon’s office, ignoring the curious stares that I’m sure sprouted from us being in there alone — with the door closed. But I don’t care, because I’m about to set the record straight.
Kimberly falls into step right beside me, a wicked smirk on her face as she lowers her voice.
“You’re going down, Daniels. Hope you’ve enjoyed this semester, because it’s the last one you’ll ever have at Okay, Cool.” She laughs. “Or anywhere, if I have it my way.”
I fake fear, coming to a complete halt as she stalks past me. She spins, raising her eyebrows at me as she walks backwards.
“Nice knowing ya.”
Then, she rolls her eyes and laughs, continuing on into the conference room.
Once she’s gone, I smile.
Good luck with that, sweetheart.
I hold back for as long as I can, filling my tumbler with water and stopping at a few desks on my way to the meeting.
It’s two minutes past ten when I swing into the giant conference room, already packed wall to wall with virtually everyone in the company.
I offer a few smiles and hellos, but mostly keep my head down, not even acknowledging Mykayla when she waves me over to sit by her.
And it’s her unassuming smile that gives me my first jolt of guilt.
She’s my friend — one of my closest — and I’ve kept this from her for almost a year now. Even if I do keep my job, will I have any friends left here?
I don’t have time to answer that question, to get sad, to talk myself out of my decision before Brandon stands at the head of the table.
“Welcome, everyone,” he says, his signature smile in place — though I know him well enough to see he’s forcing it. “We’re nearing the end of the semester for our interns, and, thanks to them, we just secured the Palm South Luxury Suites account. Please, help me thank and congratulate them.”
Everyone politely claps, Mykayla letting out a few rowdy hoots that earn her some laughs and elbow nudges. She catches my eyes from across the table, holding both of her thumbs up, her mouth open in an ecstatic smile.
I smile back as best I can.
“As they prepare themselves for summer break and the next step in their event planning career, I invite them each to speak a little about their time here, what they’ve learned, and what they hope to accomplish in the future,” Brandon says, unfastening the button on his blazer before taking a seat.
Kimberly smirks at me, hands braced on her chair to stand when Brandon speaks up again.
“Ashlei,” he says, eyes on his folder and not on me, one leg crossed over the other like it’s just a casual day in the office and I’m not about to completely expose us. “Why don’t you start?”
Kimberly pauses, already half out of her chair. “Sir, I thought I could—”
“Thank you, Mr. Church,” I say louder, cutting her off as I stand.
She sits back down with a murderous glare locked on me as I clear my throat, shuffling through the papers I wrote notes on. But once she’s sitting again, she smirks, as if she knows there’s nothing I can say to get myself out of the hole I dug.
And honestly, she very well could be right.
But I hold onto the small, feather-light streak of hope I built my plan on, and I tuck my notes away in my binder.
“I had some notes,” I say, gesturing to the pile of paper I just tucked away. “I had all these things I wanted to say, but the truth is there really aren’t any words for all this company — and you all — have done for me.”
I’m met with smiles, Mykayla even giving a soft awww as she clutches her heart.
“The truth is, I was in a dark place before I started my internship last semester. And throwing myself into event planning, into a company and a task that makes me happy, it saved me in more ways than I can ever explain. I turned everything around — my attitude, my life — and I found purpose again.”
I glance at Brandon, just long enough to catch his understanding eyes, and I hold onto the burst of energy they give me as I clear my throat again.
“You know, what I love most about this company is that we’re not really like an office,” I say. “We’re a family.”
I scan the faces of all the people around me, some I know well and others who I’ve only just met. Regardless of how well know them, my statement is true — the Okay, Cool crew is a family, and the moment you start for them, you’re part of it.
“We work hard together. We celebrate together when one of us succeeds, and we buck up and pitch in to help when one of us is down. We don’t turn our backs on each other, and we don’t try to climb over one another.
” I direct my gaze at Kimberly with that point.
“No matter what, we always see that the team is bigger than the individual, and I truly believe that’s why we continue to win account after account, and award after award. ”
“Hear, hear!” my manager says, and everyone chuckles.
My hands tremble a little, and I fold them together in front of me, willing the bad ass, confident bitch who just stood in Brandon’s office to stay with me a little longer.
“As a woman in this industry,” I say. “Well, in any industry, really — I have been faced with a lot of choices.” I laugh a little, lifting my brows on a joke.
“My mother’s voice is loud in my head every time I step off those elevators.
‘Don’t be too firm, they’ll call you a bitch.
Don’t be too emotional, they’ll say you can’t handle the pressure.
Don’t wear clothes that are too masculine or baggy, you want to command attention.
Don’t wear clothes that are too tight, or too low cut, they’ll say you’re sleeping your way to the top. ’”
The room grows quiet as soon as the word bitch slips from my mouth, and I feel the solemn weight overtake us all. A few women nod as I speak, a few others smile knowingly.
Kimberly just glares at me.
“And we’re not alone, you know? Guys,” I say, gesturing to the men in the room.
“I know you face your own kind of hell, your own kind of judgment, especially when it comes to being a man, as my father likes to say.” I shrug.
“There’s no room for anxiety or feelings when you’re supposed to be dominating everything with masculinity and power every day. ”
“Preach, honey,” Mario, one of our other interns, says. He snaps with the words, which lightens the mood a bit, earning a chorus of laughter from the room.
I smile, but my stomach rolls as I take one last breath and say what I need to say.
“That judgment,” I start. “That expectation is what makes it hard for me to tell you what I’m about to.”
Mykayla eyes me curiously, leaning forward in her chair as the rest of the room falls silent again.
“Mr. Church and I are in a relationship.”
I hold my head high as those words tumble out, my shoulders back, spine straight. And I don’t blink or close my eyes or let any tinge of color shade my cheeks.
But the whole room goes nuts.
“What?!”
“Oh, my God.”
“No way,” I hear Mykayla’s voice mutter, almost a whisper. I glance at her with an apology in my eyes as Kimberly stands up.
“I knew it! I knew it all along!” She smiles, pointing her finger up at the ceiling. “I was going to tell you all. I saw them together. In his office!”
That earns another gasp, all eyes turning to Brandon, who just sits calmly at the head of the table. His eyes find mine, the worry there thicker than before as he holds up both of his hands to silent the room again.
“It’s true,” I say, voice loud, commanding the attention back to me. “Kimberly did see us, and she did threaten to out us. She’s been using it as blackmail, as she is so proud to claim.”
That shifts the judgmental eyes to her, and she sits back down slowly, a cowardly shade of red on her neck.