Ch. 14 The Choices We Make
The Judge bangs the gavel after delivering the final verdict. A hush of breath escapes my lips.
Guilty on all counts.
I watch the court police take Haley and Richard away.
Two years since they were arrested.
It's finally over.
Ingram Tech has struggled since the trial started and blew up in the media. I'm glad I pushed through—we pushed through.
My fingers twitch in my lap.
I rise with the others as the presiding Judge leaves the courtroom.
A sense of weight lifts from my chest as I leave with everyone else.
Finally, it feels like I've paid back some of my debt to Daniel.
A hand slaps me on the back. "Finally done, eh?"
Christopher walks beside me, hand on my shoulder. Honestly, after everything that went down with Celeste, I was sure I would lose his friendship.
But I didn't. Out of the merry band of high schoolers that we were, only Chris, Nolan and I are in touch.
"Thanks man, for helping with everything."
"Of course. It was a tough two years. The Defense Counsel went after you hard—really tried to discredit you. Are people still protesting outside your building?"
The words from the protest still echo in my ears. "Marcus Holden is a criminal! Fire him! Fire him!"
Boards that read: Marcus Holden is a criminal just like the Ingrams. Send him to jail!
Even the memory has me breaking out in a cold sweat.
"One or two die-hards are still camped outside our building. They still refuse to accept the significant impact white hat hacking can have towards collecting crucial evidence. I'm hopeful it'll improve after today's verdict."
Chris nods thoughtfully before switching topics. "So, are you still planning to offer Nolan a job?"
"I am. His advice in the last few months has really helped our sales. I hope he accepts."
Christopher grins. "You know, he just might. I spoke with him last week. His company passed him over for promotion. This is twice in two years."
I take it in while my mind drifts. Is there something I should know? Am I making mistakes again?
Sweat beads on my back.
Christopher studies my face while I lose myself in my thoughts.
"Earth to Marcus!" His words pull me back. "Want to go for drinks? You, me, Nolan?"
"Nah. I'm wiped. I'm going to go home now. Rest for a bit. Catch up on sleep."
Maybe now the nightmares will end.
Memories crash into me—of harsh judges and dark, dank foreign prisons.
Sweat breaks out on my forehead as I remember being caged. The guard who banged the bars each time I drifted off, shouting words I couldn't understand.
My palms dampen and I surreptitiously wipe them on my pants.
All I want is to get away.
Just because the trial is done, doesn't mean all the hate will go away.
Kyle still doesn't know about the bodyguards I hired for him. Good thing too—twice now, they've stopped protestors from following Kyle home.
After dad, these people are the closest thing I have to family.
I must do everything I can to protect them—before it's too late.
I walk down the steps of the courtroom, completely missing the concerned looks on Keith, Kenneth, Kyle, Legend and Ella's faces.
—--------------------
What is Legend's play here? I pace his boutique floor, wearing out his rug.
It was hard enough to convince my boss that I was making progress before Legend rescheduled our appointment for a week later.
My boss was furious. The only reason she agreed to extend my stay was because Legend's team sent me an official mail with the rescheduled appointment that my boss was CC'd to.
And now Legend is late.
Some rustling by the door has me bolting to the armchair, and I take a seat, trying to appear poised.
"Hi Celeste, I'm so sorry to keep you waiting. My previous meeting went longer than expected."
"Hi. That's no problem. Everything went well?"
"Oh yes, superbly." He takes the seat in front of me and studies me. Like really looks me in the eye, searching for I don't know what.
My hand reaches my hair, pulled back in a ponytail, and I smooth it out.
"Celeste, I'm going to cut right to the chase." Legend's voice is direct, with no room for argument. He's already made up his mind. I can tell there will be no swaying it.
"I'm not going to collaborate with Christy's. It's not just the proposal. We have what one would call... a values mismatch. I've met Christy before, at a charity gala. I'm not interested in working with her."
I swallow the lump that's formed in my throat. I know I should try harder to convince him, but I can't. If I had a choice, I wouldn't work for Christy's either.
Doesn't matter anymore, either way. I've just been effectively fired.
My fingers tremble, but I slip them under my thighs. "I—I understand. Thank you for taking time out and meeting with me. It was really nice to reconnect with you."
I grab my bag and start to stand up. My heart's in my toes right now.
"Not so fast, now." I freeze.
I slowly turn towards him, unsure what he means.
"Excuse me?"
"I don't want to work with Christy's, true. But I am interested in working with you."
He gestures towards the chair and I collapse into it. Is he going to say yes after all?
"What do you mean?"
"I want to hire you. I looked into your work. The marketing work you did before getting signed by HC studios was decent, but nothing to talk about. Your recent work for Christy's is genuinely better.
"We have recently been thinking of expanding to celebrity markets internationally. While my work is appreciated by the newer generation, I want our designs to be worn on red carpets by actors and actresses of all generations. The biggest names.
"We are even thinking of expanding our red carpet collections into accessible styles for the fans of celebrities who wear our work. You are in a very unique position to help us. I think your insight will help us nail our marketing strategy."
He pauses for a breath while my head reels with what he's saying.
What is he saying?
"What are you saying?"
"I want to hire you as my in-house marketing consultant. I want you to advise my team on merchandising, digital campaigns and the like. I have worked with great outside firms, but I think having your expertise will help my brand grow faster."
"I don't know what to say."
I try to think of a good reason why this offer isn't an excellent one.
"You have to know, I don't have an extensive enough experience for what you're asking. I can't accept it in good conscience."
How long before they blame the new hire for when things go wrong?
Nope. Not doing that.
"How about we give it a trial run? I have two upcoming collections. The awards season will be here soon. We're working to create an accessible collection based on these as well. How about you take on the marketing campaign for this season, and we'll see how it goes?"
"But then..."
"Honestly, this is new for me too. That's why I had to postpone our appointment.
My team and I have been discussing the pros and cons of hiring you extensively.
Ever since my comeback, I feel like my campaigns lack a certain something—it's hard to pinpoint.
Everything is good. But I can feel it in my bones, that it can be better. "
He looks so earnest, I can't help but want to accept.
"You're a Hail Mary. You will only be consulting. It's not like my team and I will do everything you tell us to. But I genuinely think you'll bring a perspective we might be missing.
"I want to make up for the time and success I lost." The last is added almost silently, like an afterthought.
"What would my pay be? And would I be allowed to work remotely?"
"Ah, about that. I'm willing to pay you a starting salary of $3000."
I blink at him. That's slightly less than industry standard. I bite my lip in consternation.
"Wait a minute. Yes, it's less than standard. But, I'm willing to pay you a 3% commission on the sales we bring in through the marketing campaign—should we cross our target sales."
My eyes widen. That's... That could amount to a lot.
"And sorry, but no remote work. I will need you here, at the boutique, or at the workshop every day. That's non-negotiable."
"Can I think about it?"
"Of course! Take all the time you need. Let me know soon though!" He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a card.
"Here, you can call me on this number."
I take the card numbly, mumble something and walk out.
I'm not sure how I get to the hotel, but the moment I'm near my bed, my knees give out. The last few hours feel surreal.
But first... I dial my boss's number.
—--------------
The phone call with my boss goes as expected. She yells and curses before firing me on the spot.
I stare at my bag, the sum total of my existence packed into that one suitcase.
What no one knows is that I've been living in a cheap dorm since I was thrown out of my apartment.
It was only when I got kicked out that I realized I didn't even own my TV.
I struggle to control the panic that seizes me at the thought of waiting to use the toilet, toothbrush and toilet paper in hand, hoping the person ahead of me finishes before my bowels burst; the fear of losing my meagre belongings if I forget to square them away.
I pull out the card Legend gave me. It's thick and smooth, Legend's details embossed in gold foil. Affluent and luxurious.
Can I do it? Should I take the risk?
I haven't visited my mother's grave in years. I may have lived in the UK for quite long, but it's not home.
Still, I hesitate.
Eventually, it's the fact that this place is home, and my mother's grave is a few hours away that wins me over.
I dial Legend's number and wait.
Click.
"Hello, this is Legend. Who is this?"
"Legend, this is Celeste. If the offer still stands, I'm in."
I can hear Legend whoop on the other side, and it brings an involuntary smile to my face.
I guess I'm staying.