by Hawkins, JD
I can tell that Amanda has to pee desperately from the way she’s been shifting back and forth on her feet, pressing her legs together. She flashes me a quick look, Sorry for throwing you under the bus, and I know what she’s going to say before the words even come out of her mouth. “Ah, well, since I’m about to be out of the office for several months and we have a bright new talent about to step in for me in the interim, why don’t we see if Zoe can offer her perspective?”
The moment that Amanda finishes speaking, she dashes out of the room. Liam looks up at me. “Yes, Zoe—any thoughts you’d like to share?”
My insides are churning and I feel dizzy, half from being put on the spot and half from being caught in Liam’s smoldering gaze. I wish I could travel back in time to this morning and never get out of bed. I take a deep breath and remind myself why I was hired—for my marketing experience, yes, but also for the message of my YouTube channel, which promotes inclusivity and diversity above all else.
“Yes. Well.” I square my jaw and look straight at Liam. “Given the data on LoveLife’s current demographic and general consumer trends regarding spending habits on lifestyle and wellness products, the company stands to make substantial gains by expanding beyond just marketing to millennials and adding in products and services geared more toward older women and even men.”
I’m about to continue when Liam cuts me off, holding up a hand to stop me.
“I’m sure we can all agree we’d like to expand our demographic, but ‘older women and men’ is rather non-specific. What’s the operational definition? Anyone older than millennials? A specific generation, baby boomers? Any particular niche of older people we should be focusing on? Retired people aren’t exactly rushing to download makeup apps. Appreciate the input, but this is all sounding pretty vague. Let us know when you’ve got some more substantial data to back your ideas up.”
I’m about to reply to Liam’s questions, since I can actually think of plenty of relevant percentages, facts, and figures, but before I can get a word in, he turns up the lights to indicate that the meeting has adjourned.
As people pour out into the hallway, I’m seething—humiliated at being dressed down in front of my new colleagues but also incredibly angry at Liam for cutting me off, for his dismissiveness. He must have known I had more to say and instead he made me look unprepared, like a novice, in front of the entire company.
I make a beeline for the bathroom, afraid if I don’t find a place to cool off I might hunt him down and give him a piece of my mind that might cost me my new job before it’s even begun. Intellectually, I know that later, I’ll probably look back on this incident and think nothing of it, but I’m still reeling from all the rapid changes in my life. It’s a lot to take in all at once.
The bathroom is mostly empty, just a woman washing her hands. I hurry into one of the stalls, allowing myself five minutes to calm down before I go back to Amanda’s office and pretend everything is just fine. I lean against the wall and take out my iPhone. Then I plug in my earbuds and click on the YouTube app, going directly to Makeup for the People. Thankfully, my latest upload was a success—at least I can still do something right. In fact, I’m pleased to see it already has almost 10,000 views. I press play to double check that the audio sounds good. I’m a decent video editor at this point, but I always feel better double checking my work.
Hi everyone, I’m Zoe Skye, and welcome to Makeup for the People! For our episode today, we’re going to focus on freckles. Most makeup tutorials out there focus on how to hide your freckles; magazines and movie posters will literally airbrush them out. But here at Makeup for the People, we believe that your freckles are gorgeous, and we’re going to have guest star Paige McCorley demonstrate three amazing looks that will enhance those gorgeous assets on any skin tone and make everyone around you wish they had freckles too!
I pause, see my image frozen on the screen, a confident smile on my face as if everything in my life is going great. I know that’s who I really am, a strong, independent woman, but that smile feels so distant from the woman hiding in the bathroom, barely managing to keep it together. You can do this, I tell myself. All you have to do is make it to 5 o’clock—and then every day after this one will get easier. You just gotta take it one day at a time, and everything will work itself out.
At least, I hope so.
2
Liam
It feels like a cut from one scene to another in a movie. In the first scene, I’m standing in front of an auditorium of over a hundred employees, drenched in the spotlight, the center of attention, people clinging to every word that comes out of my mouth, words that don’t even seem like my own. And then bam, a moment later I’m still talking, except now I’m sitting in an intimate conference room with five of the company’s top investors, sunlight pouring in through the window, a table set with chai tea, a pitcher of water, and an array of LoveLife’s organic kelp protein bars and lemon coconut chia seed energy balls. Every pair of eyes is on me.
The investors are dressed in a variety of outfits that reflect their different backgrounds: a wealthy hippie yogi couple from Sri Lanka who originated lentil-based pastas, an athletic businesswoman in a power suit and dreadlocks who brought the fitness revolution to Austin, a retired female dermatologist especially interested in our expansion into skincare products, and an old-school Texan in a cowboy hat with a sunburned neck who’s willing to invest in anything that makes money.
And me? I’m the tech mogul they brought in from California, finely tailored in all senses of the word, the guy who’s going to transform LoveLife from its cookie cutter origins selling supplements and health food into an industry giant. Personalized services on demand and individualized products tailor-made for each particular person—that’s the way of the future.
“Mr. Bartock? You were saying?”
I loosen my tie just a notch, and then take a long drink from the glass of water on the table in front of me. I don’t know what’s gotten into me today, but ever since I locked eyes with Zoe during the company meeting this morning, I’ve been feeling slightly distracted, slightly off my game. It’s like my mind can’t stop drifting back to the sound of her moans, the tightness of—
“Liam?”
I clear my throat. “Yes, so as we discussed at our recent board meeting, the main reason I came on last year was to address your desire to pivot LoveLife’s health and wellness brand toward the digital and technological sphere. We’ve been going hard, and of the several apps we’ll be launching in the coming months, I’m most excited about our new makeup app. It will broaden our reach exponentially, give us exposure to a whole new demographic—”
“What’s it called?” the dreadlocked businesswoman prods. “And how does it work?"
“We're still weighing a few options for the name currently, but we’re in the final stages of developing the algorithms that will enable the app to cross-reference LoveLife’s product database and quickly select skin care and beauty products to best match a user’s profile. Essentially, users answer some questions and then upload a photograph of themselves, leaving the app to do the match-making for them. The whole process takes about five minutes.”
“So in other words, my wife fills out a questionnaire and then uploads a selfie, and this thing’ll tell her which lipstick to buy?” the Texan asks.
“That’s exactly right,” I agree. “And once the app provides those recommendations, the user can purchase them in the app and have them sent straight to their front door, in three days or less. No more wasting time trying to figure out what you want, or having to shop at three places to get the right combination of items, or throwing out a lot of products that don’t end up working for you.”
The dermatologist frowns. “What if they don’t work? What if this app recommends a cleanser that gives someone an allergic reaction, or even just a shade of makeup they don’t like?”
I smile, fully prepared for the question. “Glad you asked, Dr. Dee. We back every order with no-h
assle returns. Even if the customer decides it’s just the wrong color lipstick. This way there’s no risk for people to try our new products, and we’ll earn their trust and return business.”
The dermatologist nods, and I see the other investors exchange thoughtful glances.
“Alright, Mr. Bartock. Do you have a projected profit margin in mind?” asks the Texan.
“And who exactly will be using the app?” the dreadlocked woman interjects. “Why would it work better for users than a trip to their local Sephora for a personalized consultation, or just shopping the highest-rated products on Amazon?”
“Speaking of which, have you heard of Rihanna’s Fenty line of makeup?” the yogi husband says. “How are we different? We’ve got to be competitive.”
Dr. Dee adds, “And are you thinking these products would be used in people’s everyday lives, or for special occasions or…? For myself, I don’t use the same set of products when I’m at work versus at home or when I go to a party.”
The investors’ questions swim around me and I go on autopilot, flip the switch to my highest charm setting, mixing up a cocktail of confident explanations and soothing promises to placate their varying concerns, at least for the time being.
Inside of my head? I’m not thinking about the investors or the company or the millions of details that need to be hammered out for my theoretical app. I’m still thinking about Zoe.
The moment I’d looked up from the notes on my podium and caught sight of her under the glow of the Exit sign, I knew instantly that it was the same woman from the hotel, her sultry eyes, high cheekbones, that once in a lifetime smile.
I’d been dreaming about the mystery woman all week, wishing I hadn’t agreed so easily to her rules, wishing I had gotten her number. I’d lie in bed at night, wide awake, remembering the look in her eyes as she sucked my cock deep into the back of her throat.
I’d fantasize about meeting her again. We would happen to sit next to one another on an airplane, a late night flight, and she would smile as she took my hand, leading me down the aisle, whispering that she’d always wanted to join the Mile High Club. Or I would step out onto my back patio to take a dip in the hot tub and she would already be there, naked, the water bubbling up around her breasts as she motioned for me to join. Or it would be somewhere even more unexpected, vacationing on Santorini, running into each other at the same seaside restaurant, the breeze in our hair, the sun setting in the distance, sipping a little too much ouzo before we sauntered down to the beach, finding a hidden cove and fucking for hours in the warm sand.
This is bad. I need to get ahold of myself. When I saw her in that auditorium, I immediately felt myself begin to stiffen, so I clutched the podium and positioned myself directly behind it, beckoning all of my willpower. I knew I had to regain control immediately if I ever wanted to see another day of my career. So of course I played it off like some kind of asshole. I don’t even remember what I said to Zoe, just that it was dismissive and rude because it was the only way to keep my cheeks from flushing, my body burning hot with lust.
And now? Now nothing can ever happen between us again, at least for as long as she’s working at LoveLife. I have strict boundaries in that regard, and things ended disastrously when I broke my own rules and dated a coworker at my last company, a startup I created called The Seed Project, offering individuals the opportunity to invest in mutual funds based around companies actively combating climate change. I thought Holly would be the exception because we were so in sync. She was passionate, fierce, and brilliant, which was great for the company—and our romance—when we were on the same page. But then we started disagreeing on the direction of the company, giving contradictory orders to employees, and by the time the relationship was over, The Seed Project had almost tanked due to our conflicts.
I return my attention to the conference room, to the investors, several of them leaning forward to hear what I’m going to say next. “Why don’t we meet again in a couple of weeks, and by then I’ll have had the opportunity to work with my team to address all these concerns and prepare a much more formal, detailed proposal for you to review. How does that sound?”
“We believe in this company, Bartock. Don’t make us regret it,” says the yogi wife, and everyone laughs and rises.
They check watches and smart phones and snatch up the last of the lemon coconut chia seed balls, busy people buzzing off to other endeavors. I straighten my tie and shake each of their hands as they leave the room, then let out a long sigh once I’m alone. I look up at my own reflection in one of the glass-paneled windows, and I have this expression on my face like I’m sick. Lovesick. Who am I kidding? More like lust-sick.
I have to get Zoe out of my system. I have to find something—or someone—else to occupy me so that I can stay in control of this company, and myself. There is no other option.
3
Zoe
Amanda gets me settled in her office and shows me a dense binder with all of the company practices and procedures that I may need while she’s away. She also gives me the passwords I’ll need to get on the network and access the company’s shared drive and my new work email.
“I know there’s a lot of detail in here, so it’s okay to just skim the majority of the sections and then look for whatever else you need on the drive. The most important specifics to note are the pages on the SEO vocabulary and aesthetics of the LoveLife brand and our marketing goals for the next several months, which are primarily centered on phasing in those three new digital apps. Like we talked about earlier, your primary focus will be on developing the marketing plan for the makeup-matching app. You may be called on to consult on the other two apps, but those campaigns will be spearheaded by two other associates. Any questions?” Amanda asks.
Despite my chill-out break, I’m still fuming too much over Liam’s behavior during the auditorium meeting to say anything without exploding like a china vase dropped on concrete, so I just shake my head no. Amanda wishes me luck and then says she has to step out for a doctor’s appointment. She’ll be dropping in throughout the week to make sure everything is running smoothly, and after that she’ll be out, taking full advantage of her maternity leave.
Today just sucks, plain and simple. Amanda doesn’t bother to pack up the office—she’ll be back soon enough—so I’m stuck here surrounded by photos of her and her handsome, loving husband, standing at the top of Machu Picchu, giggling together poolside in the Bahamas, smashing wedding cake into each other’s faces as people clap around them.
It’s great to know that actual love still exists in the world, but it stings to be surrounded by these adorable photos of everything I’d thought I had with Jonathan, and then abruptly lost. The two of us had been so good together, at least initially. Jonathan was a die-hard romantic and was constantly bringing me flowers, taking me out on cute dates, planning surprise weekend getaways and adventures. He was the first person I’d been with who truly seemed like The One, and I loved that he cared so much about helping people in need, that he had gone into law to fight for the oppressed rather than to pull in a giant paycheck from a corporate law firm.
But then things got more complicated. Because Jonathan was so good at his job, his workload grew exponentially, and with the stress that brought on, the romantic gestures diminished. He couldn’t keep up with his share of the chores and got resentful when I reminded him to take out the trash or ask if he could take a turn washing the dishes. Ultimately, too, I realized that there were blind spots in his compassion. He cared so much about other people in the context of big picture issues like injustice and discrimination, but he struggled with empathy and emotional intimacy in his personal relationships. And though he’d initially been the one to convince me to quit my day job and pursue my YouTube channel full time, his sixty hour workweeks soon had him singing a completely different tune, even calling my makeup show frivolous and shallow despite the fact that I’d managed to gain over half a million loyal subscribers. Of course, it’s easier
to see and articulate these things now that he’s gone.
I pull out the photo of Garfield that I’d grabbed from the apartment this morning and prop it over the wedding photo. It’s my favorite picture of my cat, from the first night he settled into the apartment, when he had somehow managed to sprawl across all of the bed pillows as if he owned the place, a snaggle-toothed little grin on his face.
The more I think about it, the more I realize that I’m still really excited about my new job. The issue here is Liam. I keep replaying that moment at the company meeting in my head, the disrespectful way he spoke to me, that smug expression like all of us were peasants in his kingdom. He knew I had more to say. He just wanted to embarrass me in front of the room, put me in my place, probably because I’d materialized out of thin air and caught him in his lie about being CEO of a tech startup. I bet all that jazz talk was just part of his repertoire, lines he uses to pick up women. How could I be so stupid? It’s infuriating.
But at the end of the day, none of it matters. The important thing is this job, and finding a way to work alongside my new boss despite our one-night stand. There must be some way I can confront him and set a professional boundary; let him know that regardless of our history, his behavior today was unacceptable, and that I won’t put up with him acting like that in the future, CEO of the company or not.
Just a glance at a few pages of LoveLife’s quarterly finances in conjunction with some of its past marketing plans and I’m reassured that it’s everything I expected. Sure, LoveLife is doing okay. Their profits are growing but it’s slow, like a trickle of water. It was the same thing at the last company where I worked. Companies love the idea of marketing to millennials. It’s trendy, sounds hip and sexy. The truth is, unless you’re tapping into the teen and preteen market, Generation Z, who still have access to their parents’ wallets, you’re not going to achieve much.