...with a splash of Kay, page 18
“Oh my god! Oh. My. God,” I let out. What at the time was sexy was now super cringy.
“Would you calm down? No one will see that. There’s, like, a million photos,” Andre said, finally showing some compassion.
After scrolling through another hundred photos, I only had five minutes until my meeting. Over those minutes, Andre and I paced through the rest of the images. There were a few of me dancing in the distance, but they were hardly recognizable. And, of course, there was Adam. He and I were standing side-by-side with one another, one shot indicating there was a romantic intrigue, at least to me.
“When did Samantha get these? Do you think she saw them?” I began spiraling.
“You need to get on your time zones, girlie. Myra’s back in Austin and sent that late last night to Samantha and cc’d you. I’m just trying to teach you a lesson. You need to check your emails in the morning!”
“Okay, seriously? Now is not the time for a lecture! What did her message say?” I asked. Andre widened his eyes and changed his demeanor back to compassion.
“Don’t worry, it’s good! It’s a good email! Your meeting with Samantha is now… Just read it after. Here, I got conference room C for you.” I wanted to scream. How in a city so big could something like this unfold in one night?
Waiting for Samantha to join the Zoom, I continued to panic. I felt my breakfast move in my stomach and my hands sweat. Did she know more? Would she care? Was I fired? I looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows, the sky cloudy and drizzling. It all didn’t feel so glamorous.
“Kay! It’s been some time.” Samantha joined suddenly, which jolted me from my seat.
“Oh, hi, Samantha!” My heart could have pumped out of my chest. I turned from the window to the monitor, where her face projected.
“So, tell me. Sounds like the event went well.” She was the bubbliest I’d seen her. If her engagement rumor were true, it sure did look good on her.
“It went really well! Myra loved the whole thing, and I think we did all we could to show her we understand her vision and can make it happen.” I said, feeding off Samantha’s high energy. I assumed because she didn’t mention the photos immediately, she hadn’t seen them after all.
“Perfect. Did you see her email yet?”
“Um, no, not yet.”
“Well, seems she loved the event too. She just wasn’t so pleased about my missing it. But, oh well! Nothing we can do about that now, can we?” This was a potential client opportunity, so it surprised me how easily she brushed it off. I wondered if her nebulousness jeopardized my effort to land the Brunchies account. “Actually, Kay, you might want to read it, because guess what?” No, please don’t say the photos. “We landed the account. Myra wants LaToulle to represent Brunchies.” My roller coaster of emotions just hit its peak.
“Wait, really?” I asked, truly shocked. I knew the event was a success, but I wasn’t expecting Myra to make her decision so soon. I mean, the party at Tap was also impressive.
“Why are you so surprised?”
“I’m just happy is all!” I tamed my reaction. I didn’t want Samantha to ever find out I went to the competing party or was making out at it.
“Oh yes, read the email. She loved that our event was fun but tasteful. Apparently, the other rep she considered was immature, fighting with his girlfriend or something. Oh, and it was late at night. She doesn’t think the brand is meant for late-night parties. It’s a day to evening kind of drink. But she did like the venue! You’ll see. She sent photos.” Shit. “But I won’t have time to go through them. Doesn’t matter. Just find out where they were and add it to our pitch list. Oh, and never hire a photographer. She hated that about the other event but loved your Polaroid idea. Nice touch!” Phew. She didn’t see the photos, and I don’t think she ever would. “All said, good work. I knew I could rely on you while I’ve been away.”
“Thank you!” I didn’t want to divulge any more than I needed to, and Samantha’s aloofness toward my work allowed me not to.
“Anyway, I’ll get back to Myra, letting her know you’ll be her main point of contact. Let’s get moving on local press and send her ideas for some mocktail experiences that are TikTok friendly.”
“Yes, of course. On it,” I knew this would be a huge undertaking and wondered if it meant I landed the promotion. But I didn’t ask. At least not yet. I needed more composure and self-assurance. So, Samantha and I discussed contract formalities, and I updated her on some of our work with Henry’s. And just when I thought my emotional roller coaster ride was over, Samantha asked me something I wasn’t expecting.
“Now, let me talk to you about something else,” she said. “Is there a reason you didn’t tell me you have two jobs?” My stomach sank into my butt. Again. I’d become so comfortable with working at Lola’s, I’d forgotten that no one I worked with knew about my second income.
Before I could answer, she continued, “Do we not pay you enough here?” I wanted to say, Of course you don’t! How does anyone get by in New York City on a $65,000 salary? Instead, I put my head down, embarrassed. “Or, if it’s the benefits, let me know. You are a star, Kay! And we want you here.”
Samantha came across nervous and a bit desperate, a side of her I hadn’t seen before. I felt bad that she felt bad, even though her comment was willfully ignorant. Then, I had a thought. Despite Samantha’s confidence with her wardrobe, clients, and lifestyle, was she insecure about others perceiving her as a bad boss?
I knew what I wanted to say, but I sat there in silence. She’d made the fact I worked at Lola’s only about her. Still, she pressed me again, “Kay? Do you have anything to say?”
“Oh, yes, yes!” I responded overenthusiastically.
“Yes, what?” she asked.
“Yes, I should have told you I had another job. I just didn’t want you to think I couldn’t handle it.” I smelled the phoniness on my breath because I also wanted to say, Clients love me! I’m available by email. If only you knew how well I’d done despite working over seventy hours a week! But I didn’t say any of that. I was too nervous and, frankly, just happy she didn’t see the photos of me sucking face with Noah.
“I won’t ask you to divulge your circumstance, but we are here for you.” Samantha extended her hand toward the camera as if to offer me a virtual gesture of sincerity.
I assumed she thought of me as a sad, young girl desperate for cash. I felt ashamed to be viewed in such a compromising light and wasn’t sure if she wanted me to quit Lola’s or not. Without anything more to contribute, we ended our call without a solution. A few hours later, a company-wide email went out.
If any employee has a second job, volunteer position, or joins a political campaign, please inform management as part of our new policy.
They probably added the volunteer or campaign disclosure in an effort not to isolate me, but it didn’t work. I still felt awful and knew the office gossip would swirl. If no one knew about Lola’s before, I’m sure they would now.
As a mental break from my self-sabotaging thoughts, I had another one—how did Samantha know about Lola’s?
Straight Up
* * *
After work—without a shift at Lola’s or plans with Milo—I needed to go somewhere far from the city to escape my thoughts. So, I took a bus to New Jersey. Okay, a twenty-minute commute across the Hudson River isn’t so far, but it was the distance I needed to get perspective on the chaos I experienced in Manhattan.
As the bus drove from New York Port Authority to Jersey City, I watched the sun set over the Manhattan skyline. It reflected a beautiful orange hue across the array of skyscrapers. I planned to walk the boardwalk along the river, but on my way, I stumbled upon a grandiose doorway in the middle of the street. What at first looked like a church, the tall wooden door was accompanied by a gold Buddha statue next to it. A small street sign blown over a few feet away read, “Meditation Center.” Was this a literal sign?
Inside, a girl with dark hair and clean makeup greeted me. Her voice was calm and welcoming. “Hi! Are you here for a drop-in class?”
“Um, yes.” Given I’d “dropped in,” I thought, Why not? I paid ten dollars and entered a second, beaded doorway that led to a wide, circular room with a goldplated dome ceiling. In the center were stairs that led to two open floors below, with about fifty people spread throughout them. It amazed me that a place like this existed. Usually I’d walk by, and it’d go unnoticed, but my curiosity in a different city allowed me to uncover it.
An echoing gong let out from downstairs, and people began to follow it. I assumed the sound signaled class was starting. I joined everyone on the bottom floor and followed a narrow corridor to another expansive room. In it, everyone sat cross-legged over a pillow on the floor.
“Here, take this.” A man who looked like he was in his mid-forties handed me a faded pink pillow. “And don’t forget to take off your shoes,” he whispered.
“Thank you,” I whispered back and took my seat. A woman at the front of the room hit the gong again. Then again, and again, lighter each time. Everyone bowed their heads, and I followed suit. A person wearing a blue cloak held a thick Victorian-era type book and walked from the doorway to the center of the room, where a pillow was propped in front of several Buddhas.
“Ohm,” the class chanted in unison. I joined them a bit too late and held my ohm a bit too long. They should have a guide for beginners.
The instructor read a few quotes about mindfulness. Then, silence. It gripped the room. I wasn’t sure how long the class would last, so after a few minutes of uncertainty, I embraced it. I closed my eyes and allowed my thoughts to battle for space in my mind until they ultimately cleared. Lost in a trance, the gong startled me when it went off again. I opened my eyes to see the instructor was gone.
Slowly, people rose and exited to a common area where mint tea was served. All this for $10? Hello, Jersey! I checked the clock and saw three hours had passed. It was already 9:30 p.m.!
“Surprised at the time?” the man who offered me a cushion asked. “It must be your first time here.”
“How could you tell?” I asked sarcastically. He laughed.
“What’d you come here for?”
“I actually stumbled on this place, but it came at a good time.”
“Oh, and why is that?” he asked, pouring us both tea.
“Well, I’m a certified people pleaser,” I said, sarcastic again.
“People pleasers don’t think they’re good enough.” He was matter of fact.
“You don’t say?” I raised my eyebrows and took the teacup from him.
“Almost cost me my marriage years ago. For the longest time, I didn’t think I was worthy of my wife. I thought of other possibilities, other women. But it was me all along. I had to learn I was worthy of someone loving me.” He sipped his tea. I’d usually find the open discussion with a stranger odd, but the meditation center created a relaxed space where this type of conversation almost felt encouraged.
Another gong went off. “Are you going to the second part of the class?” he asked.
“Another session? It’s almost ten at night!”
“We do an extra hour on Tuesdays to seal the practice.”
“I think I’m sealed. But it was nice to meet you.” I didn’t catch his name, but his words ruminated with me when I left the class.
I walked to the Hudson River and looked over the big city skyline. I realized how small my world was within it. I thought about how many people lived in the two-mile metropolis and all the different lives we led. Here, you could be anyone you wanted—so why wasn’t I doing that? I had always wanted others’ approval, worrying what they thought or waiting for them to make me happy. Not anymore. From now on, I’d prioritize myself first, starting by splurging on a yellow cab home.
Hair of the Dog
* * *
My evening in Jersey City fueled me with a fresh perspective. I wouldn’t let anyone else determine my fate so easily anymore, starting with confronting those who were. Step one—Natasha. On top of being a difficult colleague, I was convinced she found out about Lola’s during the Brunchies event and told Samantha.
“Natasha. I need to talk to you.” I faced her desk, adjacent to mine.
“Yeah, okay, grab time on my calendar.” She looked at her computer screen, ignoring my presence.
“No, let’s talk now. It’s important.” Without a clap back, we walked to the same conference room I’d had my call with Samantha yesterday. Today, the sun shined, and the city was more vibrant underneath us as Manhattanites were back from their holiday weekends.
“I’m just going to come out with it. You’ve been difficult to work with. I’ve tried and tried, but… What’s going on?” I expected her to be combative or defensive, but Natasha let out a sigh, almost like she was relieved.
“Well, I—” She stopped and swallowed a lump in her throat. “Let me think about how to say this…” She paused. I waited, unfazed by her silence.
“Okay, since you started, I’ve been in your shadow. On your first day, Samantha told me to follow you. I’ve just felt like I’ve had something to prove ever since you joined.”
“That makes two of us, but it doesn’t mean I put you down or keep you iced out of emails.”
“Okay, you’re right, but it doesn’t mean you’ve been much better.” A defensiveness arose from her depths. Here we go.
“What do you mean, I haven’t been much better?”
“Kay, you don’t look at me as your counterpart. You may copy me on emails, but you never ask me for my advice or ideas. I have a work history before this, too, and I know a lot more than you might think. Before I came here, I worked at a resort in Montreal.”
“You were a bartender too?” I asked.
“What do you mean? I was a wedding planner.” Of course she was. “Wait, you were a bartender?” she asked.
“Oh please, like you don’t already know.” She looked puzzled, like she truly had no idea I worked at Lola’s. “Wait, you don’t know?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” I could tell she wasn’t lying, so I told her about my history at Lola’s, then about my conversation with Samantha yesterday.
“That’s actually pretty admirable. I don’t think I’d have it in me for a second job. But how cool! Bartending seems like a lot of fun.”
“Ha, yeah. It can be.” If she wasn’t the one who said anything, who did?
“Pff, even with two jobs, you’re still going to get a promotion.” Natasha widened her eyes.
“What do you mean?”
“Kay, it’s obvious you’re getting the client lead role.” I almost felt guilty that Natasha knew I was a better employee than her, but the feeling quickly faded when I realized how hard I’d worked for it, though I was no longer convinced it mattered. Did I really want to work for a woman who pitied my work ethic?
“I’m only in this role because my aunt is friends with Samantha,” Natasha admitted. “She’ll probably never promote me. She thinks I’m just lucky to be here, kind of like Andre. The only difference is I don’t bow down to this place like he does.”
“What do you mean?”
“When I asked Samantha if I was being considered for client lead, she flat out said, ‘Not this year, but keep sticking around. LaToulle is a fabulous job for your résumé.’”
“Well, it doesn’t seem like you love it here anyway. Why do you keep pushing it?” I asked bluntly—no more sugarcoating.
“I think I want to prove myself.” She paused. “You know, you remind me a lot of my sister, Bri. This is super cringy to say, but I’ve always been jealous of her, and I think I put that on you. You didn’t deserve that. Well, you don’t deserve that.” Natasha shifted her head down in what was officially the most vulnerable I’d seen her.
“That couldn’t have been easy to admit. So, thank you. It means a lot.” Natasha continued to look down. “Let’s call it water under the bridge. From now on, you copy me on emails, and I’ll ask your advice.” I attempted to lighten the mood, which was effective, because Natasha laughed.
“And I’ll stop being a jealous bitch,” she shot back jokingly.
Later, we went to lunch and had a fun time laughing about clients and talking about her new girlfriend. I just hoped our friendship would continue, whether I stayed at LaToulle or not.
Step two—I texted Olivia. I could’ve listened to Sisi a long time ago and cut her out to avoid all this, but it was too late for that now. To keep up with my commitment not to ghost people, I’d break off our friendship the right way—in person.
Over coffee that afternoon, our conversation started out light. However, things quickly turned heavy when Olivia admitted she used my situation to get Bryan a new client.
“Olivia, enough!” I blurted out after she tried to defend her indefensible action.
“Keep it down,” she directed, looking around the café. She lowered her voice and pointed her index finger at me, “You’re the one who told me Brunchies was shopping around! You should be happy we’re trying to build our business. Doesn’t LaToulle make enough money?”
“Ya know, even if that made sense, you should’ve at least had the audacity to tell me, warn me, anything!”
“What does it matter? You landed them anyway, so why do you care?”
“That’s not the point! What if I hadn’t? God, Olivia, you never think about anyone but yourself! The whole time I thought you were supporting me, you were only worried about getting Bryan a client.”
“Are you kidding?”
“No, I’m not. Truthfully, you’re obsessed with him and will do anything to get him to be with you. You should just be honest about it.”
