Going Nowhere

by Kimberly Lauren

I took the bundle and examined it. It would make a better fire starter than a doll. The entire thing was pieced together with random bits of nothing, stuffed with straw, and smelled faintly of marijuana. “Thanks, April. How did you know?”

  “The vodou priestess swears it will change your life.”

  “Great. I’m convinced. I’ll put it in my non-designer, non-matching purse.”

  “Sleep with it under your pillow tonight, ’kay?”

  I nodded my agreement. It was worth a try, and at least I’d be sleeping with someone tonight. “Thanks for all the concern, April, but you know what’s going to happen. No matter what I say or do, I won’t get the partnership.”

  “Now, you know that’s not true.”

  “It’s totally true. Do you actually think I’ll get it?”

  “It’s not that I think you’ll get it, it’s that I know you haven’t done everything to make yourself a top partnership candidate.”

  I downed the rest of my martini and signaled for another. “You mean I haven’t done everyone—like all of the partners. Is that what you meant?”

  “I’ll tell you exactly why you haven’t been succeeding,” she replied, lighting a slim menthol cigarette. “It’s the Suck Up Factor.”

  “The Suck Up Factor? Is that an official term?”

  “It’s a basic concept, my stubborn friend,” April said, rolling her eyes at the inanity of it all. “The Suck Up Factor is that evil little thing that’s been keeping you from achieving things all your life. Remember high school?”

  “Ah, it was so long ago...”

  “An entire decade, in fact. Have you learned nothing since then?”

  I tried to take another sip of my dirty martini, smoothly dumping half of it down my cleavage. “Never let a boyfriend convince you to pose for naked Polaroids!”

  “Is that all you’ve learned?”

  “Liquor before beer; you’re in the clear?”

  April carefully removed the martini glass from my hand and placed it on the bar, out of arm’s reach. “Tourism and Hospitality Club Scholarship.”

  My eyes narrowed into tiny slits. “Must you bring that up?”

  “Yes, in fact, I must,” she said, grinning as though she’d discovered my Kryptonite. “Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it.”

  “And what, pray tell, should I have learned from that fiasco?” I was rapidly sobering up. “I was robbed. That scholarship was mine, and everyone knew it.”

  “Everyone but Mrs. Yeung?”

  “That cow said I wasn’t motivated, that I didn’t have the right people skills. I still can’t believe George Palma, of all people, got to enjoy my scholarship, while I had to sell timeshares to pay my way through school‌—‌”

  “Enough, Kate! Will you listen to me?”

  “You’re the one who brought it up...”

  April sighed. “The reason you didn’t win that scholarship is because you don’t know how to kiss butt.”

  “Why should I have to be a brownnoser? My grades were the best in the club and I excelled at every project Yeung sent my way.”

  “Who did you always see by Yeung’s side? Who was always helping her clean the whiteboard or offering to pick up lunch?”

  “Georgie Porgie.”

  “Exactly. So when Yeung had to choose one member to get the scholarship, who do you think she’d choose?”

  I reached for my martini and managed to drink a few more mouthfuls without appearing to need a bib. “I think a responsible teacher would choose a candidate based on their qualifications alone, like grades and performance.”

  “You’re not living in the real world.” April tapped some ashes into a promotional Heineken ashtray. “It’s human nature to like people who like you. And you, for all your qualifications, aren’t always likable.”

  “Thanks a lot. With friends like you...”

  She squeezed my arm. “I’m trying to help.”

  “So what do you suggest I do?”

  “It’s simple. You’re going to have to start sucking up to Sam. He holds the keys to you getting that partnership in his grubby hands. You’re going to kiss his butt until you crack open each of his long, god-knows-where-they’ve-been fingers.”

  “Can’t you do anything to convince him?” I fidgeted on the barstool. “You’re his assistant, for goodness sake.”

  “Yes, I’m his assistant. A position that carries such clout.”

  “Fine. Maybe you’re right.” I reached for my martini again, but April stopped my hand. “I want to be respected. I don’t think it’s right that I should have to compromise my values.”

  “Respect doesn’t put food on the table.”

  I stared past her, towards the mass of people dancing. The disco lights blurred into fuzzy starbursts before my eyes. Doing what April had suggested would feel like selling out. I had certain ideas about the world, and to give up so soon would be disheartening. Why couldn’t I succeed on my performance and qualifications alone? I should be able to ignore everyone around me as long as I did my job.

  “Promise to think about it, Kate.”

  I couldn’t stop thinking about it.

  April hopped off the bar stool, still cradling her purse beneath one arm. “Wanna dance?”

  I sighed. “I don’t know if I can face going back out there. Those guys are a waste of space.”

  April pulled me off my barstool. “Since when do we come here to meet men?”

  “You always seem to disappear into some waiting guy’s arms once we’re out there.”

  “Not this time. Promise.” She smiled an unnaturally white smile. “These guys are pretty sad, though, aren’t they? Did you notice that the guy you were dancing with earlier was wearing socks with his sandals?”

  “Perfect.”

  “You coming, then?” she asked, half pulling me off my seat.

  “What have I got to lose?”

  We squeezed onto the dance floor and were soon shaking our moneymakers to the latest overplayed dance song. I swear, the party station in South Florida was like listening to the same mix CD on repeat all day. They didn’t even have DJs.

  “Kate,” April said after a few minutes, leaning closer, “if you’re not going to take my advice, do something. It’s not like you to be so defeatist. You need to make some sort of forward progress instead of obsessing.”

  I nodded with understanding, the simple motion making me realize I’d had too much to drink. And the next day I did do something: I laid in bed and vowed never to drink again.

  Chapter Three

  “I HAVE BAD news.” Max was standing over me at my desk again. Maybe he’d found out that I hid Cadbury Eggs under the paperwork in my file drawer. “Want to take a walk?”

  I nodded and followed him down the hall. Away from the office and toward the elevator bank. I looked at the pastel paintings of sunsets and whooping cranes we passed and tried not to panic.

  When we were suitably out of hearing distance of the rest of my coworkers, he said, “There’s been talk of lay-offs.”

  “What?”

  “I wanted you to hear it from me before you got blindsided.”

  I didn’t know what to say. My stomach felt like it wanted to rise into my chest, which made it hard to form words. And what was there to say, anyway? I knew how the economy was going, and this wasn’t exactly a shock.

  “They have been saying we have too many associates. The firm’s expenses are exceeding revenues.”

  The elevator made a quiet beep before the doors slid open. A woman I didn’t recognize walked out and I gave her a large, over-compensating smile in an effort not to reveal what was going on. She smiled back and squinted her eyes to study me, probably assuming she must know me from somewhere rather than the truth of the matter: that I was a lunatic.

  As soon as she disappeared down the hall, Max continued, “I’m sorry, Kate. I know this isn’t good news, especially on a Monday.”

  “So I guess that’s it, then.” I considere
d asking Max if he knew which brand of paste would be most efficient at permanently gluing my lips to Sam’s ass, but kept that thought to myself.

  “If there’s anything I can do to help you, I will.”

  “Why, Max?”

  The elevator stopped again and let out a few people from our floor that Max had to greet and make nice with.

  I grinned the whole time, once again refusing to let anyone watch me bleed.

  As soon as they were gone, Max said, “What did you ask me?”

  “Nothing. We’ll talk later?” I said and he simply nodded.

  With my cheeks hurting from the strain, I kept up the façade until I entered the ladies’ room.

  I didn’t take too long in the bathroom consoling myself. Hiding in the bathroom all day was a good way to get fired even faster. No matter how I was feeling, I had to put in my time until my first allotted break.

  Then I went straight to April’s desk.

  When she saw me, she quickly mumbled something to whomever she was speaking to on the phone and hung up. “What happened?”

  I walked behind her desk and slouched against the filing cabinet. Lowering my voice, I asked, “Is Sam in his office?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Yes, he’s been in there all day, driving me crazy.”

  “What’s the latest?”

  “He has the amazing ability to make the simplest of tasks complicated and excruciating,” April said, crossing out an item on a long, handwritten list posted next to the phone. “And now he’s taken to drafting ‘to do’ lists for me.”

  I grabbed the list.

  Water Fifi.

  Call dry cleaners and ask them to pick up pants (let me know five minutes before they get here so I can take them off).

  Light incense (Patchouli only!).

  Answer phone (if anyone calls).

  Rearrange files by size, NOT name.

  Obtain pink highlighter from supply closet.

  Obtain blue highlighter from supply closet.

  Obtain green highlighter from supply closet.

  Obtain yellow highlighter from supply closet.

  If supply closet has additional highlighter colors, obtain those, as well.

  Pour regular coffee grinds into decaffeinated coffee bag and dispose of first bag.

  April watched me read the list, then grimaced. “Can you believe him?”

  “I can’t believe any of it. Except for watering Fifi. I assume that’s his plant?”

  “Sure. She’s right here,” April said, pointing to an artificial ficus.

  “Oh, I see.”

  She scooted closer to me. “So what happened? You don’t look too happy.”

  I stared at the floor, wishing I could lie down and pretend I was at home in bed. “I’m getting fired if I don’t figure something out.”

  “Really?”

  I fiddled with my skirt, realizing at that moment that it still sported grease spots from the potato chips I’d spilled on it last week. “Max says they’re talking about lay-offs and I’d be one of the first to get the boot. Which, obviously, is a step down from languishing as an associate while my brain gets dry rot.”

  The phone on April’s desk buzzed. She pressed a button. “Yes?”

  “I need a highlighter,” Sam said, his deep voice reverberating through the intercom.

  April smiled mischievously at me before pressing the button. “What color?”

  There was a lengthy pause, then, “Orange.”

  “Sure. I’ll be right in.”

  “Wait! I changed my mind. Better make that blue.”

  “Okay‌—‌”

  “Oh, no! Bring me the yellow.”

  April picked up the letter opener on her desk and mimed slitting her throat with it.

  “Are you still there, April?”

  “Yes. I’ll bring the yellow highlighter in immediately.”

  “And get rid of all those other damn colors! I don’t need the stress.”

  I laughed as quietly as I could while April opened a drawer and took out the yellow highlighter.

  “I’ll be right back,” she said.

  I watched her go into Sam’s office and wished Mr. Goldblum was more approachable, more open to giving me an opportunity to show my worth. I’d never even been given a chance.

  April quickly returned, being careful to shut Sam’s door. She looked at me and said, “I hate to say I told you so.”

  “No, you don’t. You love to say I told you so.”

  She shrugged. “True.”

  I looked past her, at Sam’s office door. “So you think I’m not going to get a partnership because I don’t know how to suck up.”

  She nodded. “I’m sure of it. The Suck Up Factor. Trademarked.”

  “It is not.”

  “Who did Max say was on the short list?”

  “Zoe and Timmy,” I answered in pouty toddler voice.

  “The biggest ass-kissers of them all! Zoe laughs at everyone’s jokes, no matter how stupid, and she bakes a cake whenever a partner has a birthday. Timmy brings Sam a venti white mocha frappuccino every morning, because he knows Sam likes them.”

  “I wish he’d bring me one.”

  “Exactly. Wouldn’t you like him a lot more if he did that for you every day? The same thing happens with Sam. Sam looks fondly upon the kid because he goes out of his way. Puts in that extra effort. How else do you think people get glowing recommendations?”

  “Work ethic? Job performance?”

  April laughed loudly.

  My gaze darted around the office, wondering if she’d gotten anyone else’s attention. I looked at her, wrinkling my brow. “It’s not funny.”

  She patted my hand. “I’m sorry, Kate, but you have a lot to learn. You have to stop expecting people to reward you for your hard work. In fact, the better you perform as an associate, the more they’ll want to keep you there.”

  “What do you expect me to do, then?”

  She glared at me. “Suck up. Suck up. Suck up. It’s the only way.”

  I sighed. “Fine. Let’s pretend you’re right. How would you suggest I get started?”

  “Fine. Let me think about it.” April picked up a ballpoint pen and started to press the button on the end. Click, clack, click, clack. She stared into space and pressed the little metal nub at a rate of about 200 clicks per second.

  I grabbed the promotional Zoloft pen and held it above my head. “Your version of ‘thinking’ makes me want to kill myself.”

  “I can’t think straight without having something to occupy my hands. That’s probably why I get my best ideas when I’m touching‌—‌”

  The phone on her desk rang. She answered it then transferred the call to Sam. “What was I saying?”

  I shrugged. “Let’s move on. So what do you think I can do?”

  “Okay.” She leaned closer to me and lowered her voice. “I think you need to go straight to the source: Sam.”

  I checked my watch. I was two minutes away from being late. “I’ve tried that, but you know how he is. Very unapproachable. Won’t accept a meeting with anyone.”

  “Exactly. He’s unapproachable if you’re trying to schedule a meeting with him or do anything work related. If you could get closer to him on a more personal level...”

  I gnawed on one of my fingernails and stared at the marquee running across April’s computer screen. ‘I brake for sales.’ How wise.

  Then I looked down at my skirt again and had a grease spot epiphany. “What if there is a way I can get close to him without the distraction of work?”

  “How?”

  “I’ll go on that cruise he and Max are going on. Then he’ll have to notice me.”

  “It’s short notice. Can you get the time off?”

  “I think so. I haven’t taken a vacation in over a year.”

  April bounced in her chair. “I could come with you! No way am I missing this. I don’t have anything to do without Sam being here, anyway.”

  “Do you hav
e all the details of his cruise?”

  She nodded and starting typing. “It’s all right here.”

  I read the screen from over her shoulder. “Seven-day Eastern Caribbean. This is going to be fun. It’s not sold out, is it?”

  “Doesn’t look like it,” April replied, with a flick of one tennis bracelet-covered wrist. “Write down your credit card number and I’ll book it.”

  Taking a deep breath, I did as she asked. Too much online shopping meant I had my MasterCard number memorized, including the expiration date and security code. After I handed her the paper, I turned away. “I have to get back to my desk.”

  I heard her typing away. “This is going to be great.”

  I sure hoped so. I wished I could be as optimistic as she was, but that wasn’t important. What was important was that I was taking matters into my own hands. Instead of waiting for the partners to decide my fate while I sat quietly with my fingers crossed, I was going to try something.

  If nothing else, it was better than nothing.

  When the morning of the cruise finally arrived, April picked me up and, for once, she was on time. I heaved my two suitcases into the trunk of her BMW as soon as she pulled up. With all the occasions I had to be prepared for, it was a miracle I’d been able to pack so lightly. There were casual clothes, pool clothes, formal night clothes, and all the uncomfortable “sexy” clothes that squeezed me in the right places so that I looked good but could no longer breathe.

  I slid into the passenger seat and smiled. “Well, here goes nothing.”

  April peered at me from above a pair of silver Chanel sunglasses. “You need to work on your enthusiasm.”

  “You’re right. That is another one of my flaws.” I looked out my window at the storefronts we drove past on Alton Road on our way to the Port of Miami. “Enthusiasm: check.”

  April turned onto Fifth Street and made her way west, toward Macarthur Causeway. “Fake it ’til you make it.”