5. ARIA
5
ARIA
A s I watch Pedro, I notice his phone buzz, the sound as jarring as a record scratch in the middle of a romantic ballad. A glimpse of the screen shows Jessica’s name flashing like a neon sign screaming “trouble ahead.” His reaction is instant—a mixture of irritation and frustration that flickers across his face, a stark contrast to the easygoing demeanor he’s had until now. He glances at the phone and then quickly puts it away, as if the mere sight of her name is enough to sour his mood.
Observing Pedro’s reaction to the text from Jessica, I can’t help but reassess the situation. It’s clear there’s tension between them, and it raises questions about my role in all this. His apparent distaste for Jessica complicates things—it’s not just about professional skills anymore, but also about navigating through their strained relationship, a task that may be more difficult than expected.
I find myself wondering about the history they share, the skeletons that might be lurking in their relationship closet, and whether they’re a lost cause.
The idea of playing these games with Pedro, knowing he probably cheated on me with Jessica, makes my stomach churn like I've eaten a gas station sushi platter. The thought of potentially reopening of old wounds and all this backfiring, like a violent post-sushi upheaval in a dingy gas station bathroom, only adds to the growing sense of unease that’s as palpable as the lingering odor of regret and cheap air freshener.
“Trouble in paradise?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light despite the gnawing curiosity eating away at my insides.
Pedro sighs, a sound that’s equal parts frustration and resignation. “You could say that. Some people just have a talent for complicating things.”
I raise an eyebrow, silently urging him to continue. He hesitates, his words carefully chosen, as if navigating a verbal minefield.
“It’s dumb. It’s just one of those situations where you feel like you have to watch everything you say, ’cause a simple text can turn into an episode of Law and Order .”
I nod sympathetically, trying to ignore the twinge of curiosity that comes with his vague description. “Sounds like rich people problems. How do you deal with that sort of thing? ”
He chuckles as he shrugs, a gesture that’s both nonchalant and guarded. “Ignore it, mostly. Hope it goes away. But with some people…that’s like hoping for world peace.”
We share a rueful chuckle, even if the specifics remain unspoken. In that moment, the years between us melt away, and it’s like we’re back in the coffee lab at Google, commiserating over the latest office drama. Though Pedro’s current predicament with Jessica feels less like the injustice of being next in line after the person who just grabbed the last slice of pizza at the lunch buffet and more like some kind of drama Jessica may not have disclosed to Full Circle. I’ll have to remember to look into that later.
As the conversation winds down, a comfortable silence settles between us. I realize that, despite my misgivings about this job and my anger at Pedro, I’ve enjoyed this “unexpected” reunion.
“It was really great catching up with you,” I find myself saying, the words holding more truth than I had anticipated.
He smiles, a softness in his eyes that triggers a lightness in my belly. “Yeah, it was nice. Let’s not let another few years pass before we do this again.”
We exchange a final look, one that lingers a moment longer than necessary, filled with unspoken questions and possibilities that hang in the air like a tantalizing “what if.” I walk away, left with a feeling of nostalgia and a budding sense of nervous anticipation. What the hell did I just get myself into?
The dim lighting in Gretchen’s office casts elongated shadows, making the usually bright room feel like a movie set for a high-stakes drama. The scent of strong coffee mingles with her signature floral perfume, adding to the already palpable tension.
As I sit across from Gretchen, she barely looks up from her tablet, swiping through her latest Tinder matches. “You know,” she says in her clipped tone, “Mallu’s really outdoing herself with the Benson account. If this trend continues, it won’t be long before she’s topping the leaderboard. You might want to keep an eye on her. Full Circle doesn’t have room for mediocrity.”
My stomach tightens. Of course, she brings up Mallu, who’s been nipping at my heels for months, but hearing Gretchen mention her as a serious contender brings a fresh wave of anxiety. Mallu might be one big win away from snatching the prestigious reputation I’ve been working toward for years. It’s another reminder that I can’t afford to let personal distractions like Pedro derail my focus.
I sigh as Gretchen’s feedback gets under my skin. “Point taken.”
“Aria, let’s cut to the chase,” Gretchen continues, looking up from her tablet as her piercing gaze zeroes in on me. The tension coils tighter as she scrutinizes me, as if trying to suss me out, or perhaps just trying to decide if she likes my outfit.
I steel myself, meeting her gaze head-on, a battle of wills playing out in the silence. “Gretchen, I’ve been thinking about the Jessica job, and I don’t think it’s the right move for me.”
Her eyebrows shoot up, a mix of surprise and annoyance flickering across her face. “Excuse me? Since when do you get to pick and choose your assignments?”
I take a deep breath; the words tumbling out in a rush. “It’s not that. It’s just...I don’t think Jessica has a snowball’s chance in hell of getting back with Pedro. From what I’ve seen, he’s about as interested in rekindling that romance as he is in getting a colonoscopy.” Or, more like, a colonoscopy in a clown suit, while being filmed for a YouTube reaction channel.
Gretchen leans back in her chair, her expression unreadable. “And you know this how ?”
“Call it a hunch, or maybe just a keen eye for doomed relationships. Either way, I think we’re setting ourselves up for failure here. I want out.” I try to leave it there, but I quickly find myself crumbling under her penetrating stare. “It’s... complicated, okay? There are some unexpected variables… Hey, maybe this is a good opportunity for Mallu to step up, give her a chance to shine.”
Her laugh, sharp and derisive, ricochets off the walls like a bullet in a steel chamber. “Mallu? This isn’t a training exercise, Aria. This is high-stakes. I need my ace in the field, not on the bench, warming up for the game. Besides, Mallu’s too busy with the sexy vampire.”
The room seems to shrink, the walls closing in as her voice rises slightly. I shuffle, the plush carpet beneath my feet suddenly feeling like quicksand, threatening to swallow me whole.
Gretchen leans back in her chair, a queen surveying her domain, her eyes glinting with a mix of amusement and exasperation. “What I need is results, Aria. Not excuses, not variables, not complications. You’re the best we’ve got, and I expect you to handle this like a pro.”
The exasperation in her voice is a potent reminder of what’s at stake with the partnership dangling in front of me like a carrot on a stick. My jaw clenches, a silent battle between pride and frustration raging within me, as if my battling priorities are engaged in a fierce tug-of-war.
Her expression softens as she looks me in the eye. “Look, Aria, I know you’re gunning for that partnership. Nail this job, and it’s yours, wrapped up with a pretty bow. But before you answer, keep in mind, it’s not just the partnership. The vultures are circling. Mallu is in it to win it, baby, and she ain’t going nowhere.”
Her words land like a gut punch, knocking the wind out of my sails. The partnership–my escape from the relentless fieldwork, my chance at something more substantial–dangles precariously on a thread. As Gretchen no doubt intended, the thought of losing my top rebounder status to Mallu ignites a fire of determination within me.
I sit there, the weight of the decision pressing down on me like a physical force. On one hand, the idea of rebounding Pedro, of playing these twisted games with the man who broke my heart, makes me want to run for the hills. Partnership be damned. But on the other hand, the thought of Mallu snagging my hard-earned promotion, of watching her strut around the office, bouncing her backpack full of dreams, is enough to make my blood boil.
It’s a classic catch-22, a no-win situation that has me trapped between a rock and a hard place. Do I sacrifice my own emotional well-being for the sake of my career, or do I walk away from the opportunity I’ve been busting my ass for, all because of some unresolved issues with my ex?
I close my eyes, taking a deep breath as I try to quiet the warring voices in my head. In the end, it comes down to one simple truth: I’m damn good at what I do. And if anyone can navigate this minefield of a project, it’s me.
With a sigh of resignation, I open my eyes, meeting Gretchen’s gaze with a steely determination. “Fine. I’ll do it. But let’s get one thing straight—I’m not doing this for Jessica, or even for Pedro. I’m doing it for me, for that partnership. And I’ll be damned if I let Mallu swoop in and steal my thunder. ”
Gretchen’s nod of approval is brief, but it’s enough to ease the tension. And suddenly, she turns my world upside down as she becomes all too candid, as if we’re old friends gossiping over cocktails.
“Man, I need to get laid, and not just in the metaphorical sense,” she says, ignoring the way my mouth is hanging open. “It’s been a rough patch since Wendell hit the road. You know how it is. Itches need scratching.”
I raise an eyebrow, smirking at her unabashed confession, the kind that would make a sailor blush. “Well, Gretchen, that’s the kind of confession usually reserved for a therapist’s couch, but I’ll take the bait. Any other deep, dark secrets you want to reveal?”
She dismisses my comment with a wave. “Bah, we’re all adults here. Besides, you’re one of the few I can trust around here. And let’s be real, a satisfied Gretchen is a more agreeable Gretchen.”
I let out an uncomfortable laugh as a particular name comes to mind. “I’ll see what I can do. Maybe put out some feelers to my World Wide Web of middle-aged men of distinction. Maybe there’s a solution to...ease your frustration.”
Gretchen’s eyebrow arches with interest, her curiosity piqued like a cat spotting a laser pointer. “Spill it.”
I pause, considering my next move carefully, like a chess master plotting my endgame. “Let’s just say I might know someone who could... lighten your mood, maybe…jiggle your Jell-O, if you catch my drift.”
Her eyes gleam with a playful mischief, a sparkle that’s both enticing and dangerous. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got, what rabbit you can pull out of your hat. Impress me, and maybe I’ll throw in a little extra something for your trouble, a cherry on top of the partnership sundae.”
A plan begins to form in my mind, a strategy that could serve multiple purposes, like killing two birds with one stone. It could be a golden opportunity to keep Gretchen appeased, to keep her in good spirits, and potentially find a suitable distraction for Tío Juan, giving Pedro and me some breathing room to make this plan work.
“I’ve got this in the bag, Gretchen. Trust me, I’ll have you smiling like a Cheshire Cat in no time,” I say, silently recalling Tío Juan’s chosen profession.
She smirks, standing up to escort me out, her presence filling the room like a force of nature. “That’s my girl. Now, go out there and make some magic happen.”
As I leave her office, I can’t help but marvel at the absurdity of it all. One minute I'm orchestrating breakups, the next I'm playing matchmaker for my boss...and the ex who still makes my heart race. Talk about wearing multiple hats...or maybe juggling multiple grenades. What a way to raise the stakes.