9. Office Siren
Office Siren
I’m hyperventilating into a mini Sephora carrier bag (not as effective as a paper bag, but it’s all I had at the office) as I count down the minutes to my presentation.
Also, as promised, a stacked deck of keynote slides has magically appeared on my desktop.
I skim through them. There’s a carousel of charts, graphs, and projections.
Numbers in bold. Numbers underlined. I power through them, nodding through Rhys’ terse phrases.
From what I’ve gathered, the ASSET is involved in projecting the profitability of several well-known yet failing businesses around the country, amongst other things.
What those ‘other things’ are, I don’t rightly know.
It’s all Greek to me. I’m more of a ‘big picture’ person, anyway.
Nevertheless, I add my personal touches, changing the font and swapping the color of the slides from white to a subtle lavender, then send them off to my direct reports for the finishing touches.
Five minutes later, the team shows up at my door, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, their short little bodies buzzing with excitement.
“Did you give the board copies of my presentation to follow along?” I ask Paulina.
“Yes, Director,” she nods, her eyes glazed with a haze of admiration. “Everything’s taken care of.”
Stretching my sore toes, I slip my feet back into my black pumps. “Alright,” I exhale. “Let’s do this.”
On my way to the door, Luke clears his throat. “I just want to apologize on behalf of everyone, Director.”
“For what?”
Four heads bow in shame. “For doubting you,” Luke says. “We were a little concerned you weren’t prepared for the presentation.”
“Yes, well,” I clear my throat, “I’m a professional. I know what I’m doing. ASSET wrangling takes time.”
“Of course, Director,” he says. “You did great work.”
“How would you know if my work is great?” I arch an eyebrow. “You know nothing of the ASSET.”
Luke turns red. “Well, I... I know great work when I see it?”
I sock him playfully on the arm. “I’m just bustin’ your balls.”
“Yes, Director,” he agrees, chastened.
Seeing them brought so low, I couldn’t help rubbing it in. “You guys lost a little face, didn’t you?”
Four heads nod morosely.
“Have a little faith next time.” I check my watch. “Okay. It’s now or never. Let’s go blow them away.”
My direct reports flank me as we trek down the row of cubicles to the boardroom. I feel like I’m about to hurl with every step, but manage to smile and nod at everyone watching me. Why are they watching me? Shouldn’t they be working? Rylan’s employees really do have too much time on their hands.
Nina from HR pops around the corner. “Knock ‘em dead, tiger!”
I wink at her.
“You’ll crush ‘em!” Kevin from the mailroom hollers.
By now, I’m on a first-name basis with everyone on the 5th floor, and they’re all rooting for me. Nevertheless, I find their aggressive encouragement disconcerting. Am I here to give a presentation about data, or am I about to enter the ring to defend my world championship?
My presentation. Oh God. I’m about to give a presentation on work I didn’t do, on a topic I know nothing about, on a program I’ve yet to learn…
I’m about to make a total fool of myself in front of the entire boardroom.
The CEO will fire and shame me for all to see.
I’ll lose my apartment by the beach. Angie will never forgive me for leaving her destitute.
Or she’ll have to move with me... to Riverside.
Our lives will be ruined, and all because I decided, on the spur of the moment, to tack on ‘ASSET Expert’ to my résumé.
Oh, what a tangled web I’ve woven. I’ve dug myself into a hole, but at least I tried to dig myself out.
At least I didn’t go down without a fight.
I walk a little taller as we reach the boardroom.
I’m going to give the best damn presentation on the ASSET anyone has ever seen, and if I don’t know what I’m talking about, I’ll just wing it.
My direct reports don’t know shit about the ASSET.
And I suspect the board is equally clueless.
I’m the only ASSET expert at this company.
Why wouldn’t I know what I’m saying?
“How are you feeling, Director?” Ramin asks as we approach the frosted glass door. “Anything we can get you? Do for you? Do you require water? Coffee? Matcha? We’ve got those new latte machines—”
Again. Why is everyone acting like I’m about to enter a ring and beat someone up? Do they want fighting words?
I tip my head to the side. “My shoulder’s sore.”
Paulina reaches up and massages my pinched nerve. “We have the projection set up. The room is stocked with sparkling water. Oh, and here’s your laser pointer.”
Taking a deep breath, I bounce up and down, shaking the kinks out of my muscles. “Okay. Let me at ‘em.”
“Director.” With a nod of reverence, Luke opens the door and I step inside with my head held high. The boardroom is stocked with suits, and a collection of the oldest, driest people I’ve ever seen.
I greet a man who looks like he’s pushing ninety-three. I’m shaking hands and making small talk on my way to the big dog at the head of the table.
“Carina,” Sam Rylan clasps my hand in his, “So glad to finally meet you in person. You’re much more beautiful in real life than on a tiny screen.”
Unlike the decrepit board members, Sam is in his early-thirties (younger than me by six months, I checked), square-jawed, six-feet-three-inches of smoking hot CEO. At least Angie would find him hot. I think he’s just okay. His hands are soft to the point of being wet.
Sam hesitates a little before leaning in and whispering in my ear, “Hope you’re not going to sue me for saying so.”
I’m charmed off my feet, of course, but also a little weirded out that he just whispered in my ear in an ambiguously seductive tone.
Rylan is a friendly company. We hug. We’re cheerful.
I suppose the CEO sets the company culture.
He still hasn’t released me, his thumb casually stroking the back of my hand as if we’re intimate acquaintances.
I glance nervously at the board, wondering if they’ve noticed.
Half of them are on their phones or engaged in small talk with each other.
I smile, diplomatically prying my hands from his. “Who doesn’t love a compliment?”
Sam’s reputation as a playboy precedes him.
According to Nisha, there was some scandal with the former VP of Public Relations and a rumor that he’d had a fling with Todd’s personal assistant, though those rumors were quickly quashed.
Suffice to say, the parties involved have moved on to other companies while Sam is still head of his father’s company, renown for his charisma, and now I’m experiencing his charisma firsthand.
Is he like this with everyone? Somehow I have a hard time imagining him standing this close to one of those ancient board members, unless it’s to shout in a hearing aid.
Am I imagining things, or is he coming on to me?
My legs threaten to buckle, more from nerves than attraction. Sam is conventionally attractive, like a B actor in a made-for-Netflix movie, but he’s not doing anything for me. He’s my boss. I won’t touch that. I may be a liar, but I have standards.
Sam leans closer, inching toward my personal space. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re a dead ringer for Lucy Liu?”
Inwardly, I sigh. I don’t look anything like Lucy Liu. The only thing Lucy Liu and I have in common is that we’re both Asian. When a guy approaches me at a bar with that line, I can sniff out his yellow fever immediately.
My smile tightens. “Not really.”
“You’re the spitting image of her. I used to have a Charlie’s Angels poster in my bedroom.” He lowers his voice, eyeing me meaningfully. “She got me through puberty.”
Um… okay. I need to change the topic. NOW. “Speaking of acting,” I say, “do you act? I swear I’ve seen you in a commercial.”
“No,” Sam preens, flattered to be mistaken for an actor. “But I have casting agents hounding me all the time. Which commercial?”
“A drug commercial for plaque psoriasis. You sure that wasn’t you? You nearly sold me on Skyrizi.”
“I’ve seen that commercial!” proclaims the ninety-three-year-old board member, surprising us both. I underestimated his hearing aid’s abilities. “You were great, Sam. I called my doctor right away and now my plaque psoriasis is under control.”
“Well, I — thank you, Bob, but I wasn’t in that commercial.” Sam’s laugh sounds like someone poured honey over his vocal cords. Returning his attention to me, he says, “Remind me to give HR a bonus for hiring you. You’re just the ‘asset’ Rylan needs.”
The board members chuckle at his pun. I don’t think it’s very clever, but I laugh louder than everyone else. Sometimes I have to give myself a pat on the back. I’ve diplomatically avoided a potentially awkward come-on while simultaneously kissing Sam’s ass.
“I’m looking forward to your presentation,” Sam says, stepping back and taking his seat at the head of the table. “The room is yours, Carina.”
Okay. It’s now or never. Hesitating, I toss my laser pointer cavalierly in the air and catch it.
The action causes Sam to arch his brow, impressed by my showmanship.
If there’s one role I know how to play, it’s the cool girl.
Sam is trying to catch my eye; I’m trying to avoid his.
Whirling around, I make my way to the whiteboard at the opposite end of the room.
If I check over my shoulder, I’m sure I’ll catch his eyes pinned to my ass. Maybe if he keeps his eyes on my ass, he won’t notice the nonsense spewing out of my mouth.
“Ladies and gentlemen… My name is Carina Wu, ASSET director at Rylan. I’m honored to—”
The frosted doors slide open, interrupting me mid-speech. Thank God.
“Sorry I’m late,” a familiar voice says. I stop dead in my tracks, my laser pointer slipping from my grasp.
“You…”
“I’ve got it,” Rhys Stiltskine says, bending down to retrieve my laser pointer.
He’s dressed in a cheap black suit, wrinkled and ill-fitting, no tie.
It looked like he’d tried to drag a comb through his mop of chestnut hair and lost the battle.
Dropping the laser pointer in my hand, he nods at the whiteboard and plops down into an empty chair, swiveled away from me.
“So glad you could join us,” Sam calls from the head of the table.
“Carina, I have a surprise for you. This is Rhys Stiltskine joining us from Greene Energy. Rhys is an ASSET specialist just like you, and when he heard another ASSET specialist was giving a landmark presentation, he messaged me personally to come hear you speak. Now, here at Rylan,” he says, addressing the boardroom, “we’re not just here to make a quick buck, though we’d all like to make two bucks. ”
That last comment was a hit with the board.
Sam basks in the chuckles. I’m presuming if he weren’t the CEO of a Fortune 500 company, he’d fancy himself a comedian.
Or an actor in a plaque psoriasis commercial.
“We’re here to foster collaboration, trade ideas for the betterment of the world. Synergy.”
“This is... wonderful,” I repeat weakly, glaring at the back of Rhys’ head. “I don’t know what to say.”
Rhys swivels and looks up at me, his face devoid of recognition.
You sneaky sonofabitch.
Gritting my teeth, I hold out my hand. “I’m honored to have you here, Mr. Stiltskine.”
“The honor is all mine. Ouch!” He grimaces and yanks his hand away from my death grip. “I wouldn’t miss this presentation for the world. Maybe we could trade notes afterward.”
“We’ll trade something, alright,” I mutter.
“That’s the spirit!” Sam calls, oblivious to the murder in my eyes. “Synergy!”
“Synergy,” Rhys repeats, his lips curling into a shit-eating smirk.
“The room is yours,” Sam says.
With my head held high, I nod to Paulina to dim the lights. Ramin switches the projector on.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” I clear my throat, side-eyeing Rhys. And sneaky double-dipping scumbag. With a flourish, I direct my laser pointer to the first slide. “What can one say about the ASSET that hasn’t already been said?”