by Jason Letts
“As long as they didn’t fish it out of the East River.”
Instead I was fumbling with my chopsticks so badly that I dropped a piece of cucumber roll straight into the dish of soy sauce. I rolled my eyes and laughed despite myself. This was my penance for always eating the Chinese food I ordered with a fork.
“You’re getting better,” Keenan said, though I could tell he was holding back his own laughter.
“You know what this needs, something like bumpers for bowling to make it clear to everyone I’m completely inept. Or maybe swimming floaties would be better in case I fall into the soy sauce.”
“They do have something that might help. Can we get some sake over here?” Keenan said, turning to call to the hostess in the corner.
The restaurant only had five tables in it to begin with, and we were the only ones in it on this particular weeknight. The Asian hostess could’ve either been fifteen, thirty-five, or fifty-five, and the way she set her hand on Keenan’s shoulder might’ve suggested some personal warmth or sympathy for the sushi spread that must’ve cost a fortune. Everything I managed to get into my mouth was so good, and the hostess was never visible unless she was being called.
“This is good,” I lied after taking a sip from the small glass. Keenan was already pouring himself another shot.
“Make sure I stop after this,” he said.
“Why? Can’t your car drive you to the airport by itself? Don’t tell me it can’t take off and fly you right to Vegas.”
We laughed again and I leaned against the side of the chair, setting my head against the wall. My hand was on the table and I couldn’t help but wish he would take it. We were quiet for a moment, his eyes on me like warm light on a sunny day. It was hard not to look at the clock to see exactly how little time I had left.
“You’re not how I expected you to be,” he said after the smiles from our jokes had faded.
“Did I stop being thoughtful?” I asked. He grinned a little, but something more serious was taking over.
“No, from your blog,” he said, and I was surprised he brought it up after we’d nearly made it all the way through dinner.
I cleared my throat and looked at the table in case there were any instructions lying about for how to navigate this minefield.
“I’m sure it’s like your anthropology work. This is our modern culture, and these are the stories we have to tell. This is what happens to women.”
He nodded slightly, probably mostly because I’d referenced something about him. I couldn’t really blame him for not getting it. Most guys didn’t.
“So you’re saying that you’re a…”
I hadn’t wanted the conversation to go here, but Keenan must’ve really wanted to hear about it.
“A victim? It’s one part of who I am, and if there was any way for me to spare one other woman from knowing the things I’d experienced then there’s nothing I wouldn’t do, but for me life doesn’t stop at victimhood. We have to press on to the next day and the next taking what we’ve learned and applying it to the present. In that way being a victim can reveal a strength you didn’t know you had.”
He looked at me carefully, and what was going through his mind was anyone’s guess.
“That’s terrible that those things happened to you. For me, we all have a gender, but I’ve always thought that there was a deeper level of humanity beyond that. Something even more basic that we all share. I don’t blame anybody for focusing on gender, but it just never seemed like the most important thing to me. You know what I mean?”
If I’d been fresh out of the hospital after my attack, I knew hearing something like that would’ve been devastating for me. It would’ve been dismissive and maybe a little arrogant. But since then I’d learned a thing or two and had more sympathy for those who couldn’t really fathom what it was like. If I could help Keenan know what I meant, that would be a worthwhile endeavor to open the eyes of a well-meaning, intelligent man. These were the kind of guys who could listen and learn. We needed them on our side.
“I hope you see that the kind of perspective you’re talking about is a luxury afforded to you because you’re a man. Trying to focus on the essence of humanity is great, but it’s like clouds up in the sky and we’re in a plane trying to take off but there are all these bumps in the runway. We can’t lift off if we’re constantly subjected to both subtle and overt attacks that occur just because we’re female.”
Keenan gave another hazy nod and lifted another piece of sushi to his mouth.
“So what are you going to do?”
As much as I was sorely tempted to continue with my argument until he was in full agreement, I knew that pressing too hard wasn’t going to end well. These were the things that had to sink in over time.
I finished off my shot of sake and sat the glass back on the table with a little slam. Grinning, I leaned forward.
“I’m going to do the best I can at my job, at my life, and at listening to you tell me all about this conference. It’s not too late to get in a little more professional development, is it?”
He did spend a few minutes telling me about the conference, the presentations he had to make, and the people who were going to be there. Most of it went in one ear and out the other. He twisted his head a little and stopped abruptly.
“Actually, it is getting late.”
I was dreading this moment and felt like the only thing left that I needed was some sort of validation or sign that he felt something for me. I wanted to ask him “What’s the best I can hope for?” But I knew that I couldn’t. I wondered if I hadn’t done enough to make a good impression.
Keenan signaled to the hostess, who brought over the bill. Without thinking about what I was doing, I reached out and grabbed it.
“Here, I’ll take care of it,” I said without daring to pop open the booklet with the check inside. Those car repairs, this month’s rent, there was no telling how much of it would be gone.
“No, all kidding aside, I’ll get it,” he said, extending a hand for the check.
“I had a good time. Why shouldn’t I pay for it?” I said, holding it out of reach while I dug into my bag for my cards.
“I had a good time too. I’ll pay,” he said.
I stuck a card in the case and handed it over to the hostess, who started to walk away. Keenan gave me a suspicious look.
“Kasumi, come back here, please,” he said.
This time I didn’t stop him when he switched out my card for his and dropped mine back on the table in front of me.
“Of course,” said the hostess, exiting the room.
“You really would’ve paid, wouldn’t you?” He shook his head a little but was smirking. I shrugged casually but did feel some relief that an entire week’s wages weren’t blown over one meal. I always felt the central contradiction of being a young woman was between wanting to take charge and wanting to be taken. At least he appreciated the gesture.
We got up and went for the door. I braced myself for the rush of cold air and a night spent picking over everything that we said in my mind.
I exited out first and stopped on the small walk beside the stairs leading back up the street. For some reason I needed to turn back to see that he was still there, that it had all really happened. What I found was his mouth rushing in to meet mine, the stubble on his cheek brushing against me, the feel of his warm breath. I could’ve dissolved into vapor and drifted away.
The way his lips moved, soft and gentle, was part of a blur of sensation. I realized his hand was on the side of my face and the back of my neck, pulling me closer to him. As if the passion had overcome him, I could feel his tongue slip into my mouth. I quivered, so ready. Why weren’t we in bed?
“I have to go,” he said, breaking away suddenly. I could still feel the sensation of him pressing against me and wanted more of it.
“I know,” I said, trying not to sound too disappointed about it.
“I’ll…”
“Call me an Uber?
Thank you,” I said, hoping he knew I meant it for everything we’d shared together that night.
He left me in a bit of a daze, and rather than spending the whole night agitated and unforgiving, I slept better that night than I had in years. The good feeling remained into the next morning, when it felt like I was sleepwalking going into work. Worries about whether last night would mean anything to him while he was in Vegas were successfully kept at bay, and I plopped down into my chair and actually looked forward to spending the day writing.
I noticed there was more chatter than usual around the office. People were much more relaxed, standing around with energy drinks and donuts. I didn’t pay any attention to them but a loud sigh from right behind me forced me to turn around. It was Chelsea with her arms crossed and a pitying look on her face.
“I tried to warn you,” she said. I knew there was no hiding from what she saw.
“I can take care of myself, thank you,” I said, but the look she was giving me pierced straight through to my soul. I couldn’t help but turn away.
“That’s what you said before, but I understand a good-looking man is hard to resist. I just thought you had a little more constitution, an ability to see what’s in your own best interest.”
Every word out of her mouth punctured my mood a little more.
“There’s nothing wrong with him,” I said.
Chelsea leaned over, whispering from uncomfortably close to me ear.
“There isn’t, is there? Meet me at the noodle shop for dinner tonight. I’ll bring my crystal ball and I’ll tell you your future based on his past. Unless you’re scared of the truth…”
I turned, ready to tell her off, but she already had her back to me and was walking away. It cut deep to think that Keenan had a bad history with women, but it ran contrary to everything I saw from him. Maybe those other women just weren’t right for him. Maybe they did have a problem getting cold or dressing for the weather.
I heard footsteps behind me, and I twisted around ready to tell Chelsea I’d heard enough from her, but it was Martin with a nasty smile marring his horse-like face. He had a half-eaten donut in one hand. The other half was in crumbs on his shirt and tie.
“Looks like I’m the big dog around here today. And we’re finally going to get you sorted out properly. No one to save you now.”
CHAPTER 6
I could feel Martin looming over my shoulder as he paraded me across the office to his little glass room. That left me no opportunity to turn my phone’s recorder on. The snickers and chatter were everywhere, but I paid no attention to them. My mind kept spinning over how I would contact Keenan again if Martin successfully found a way to get rid of me.
Once inside, he leaned back and dropped into his chair, letting it swing his legs around. His hands were behind his head and he had a happy-vicious look on his face. I continued to stand, refusing to be a party to this guy any more than I had to be.
“Let’s have what I like to call a moment of candor. I’ll go first. Ready? You do not belong here. You don’t fit in. No one likes you. The work you do is subpar and can be done by anyone. You don’t meet deadlines with enough time to spare…”
“I thought the whole point of a deadline was that as long as you finished before it, it was fine.”
“Quiet,” he interjected quickly. “I’m not done. Finally I’ll admit that it was a mistake to hire you and I should’ve gone with my instinct that you were grossly unqualified and incapable of doing what we needed for the job. There, now I’m done. It’s your turn. You have ten seconds.”
I chewed on my tongue, dragging the time out to annoy him.
“Everything you say is the result of a personal grievance you have against me because your advances were rebuffed.”
He set his jaw, stewing. I had an inkling he was giving me some kind of hand gesture under the table.
“Next we move onto a part of your contract that is spelled out quite clearly, the introductory period assessment and review. What we do is set a task for you to complete, measure the results, and if they meet our specifications then you can continue with your employment, otherwise your contract is immediately cancelled,” he said.
I nodded, beginning to put together what his plan was.
“Isn’t the introductory period three months? I haven’t even been here one month.”
“The assessment can be conducted at any time during the introductory period. That part is left up to the interpretation of the management.” He nodded in a smugly matter-of-fact way. I didn’t have many cards to play and saw no point in holding them.
“What happens when Keenan comes back and discovers you’ve gotten rid of me under ridiculous pretenses?” I asked. The more worked up he got, the more serene I felt about this petty person I wouldn’t give the time to out on the street. He was bubbling under the surface.
“Oh, it’s Keenan now, is it? Yes, I’m not surprised you went straight to the top. Well, Mr. Roche and I have a firm understanding of our policies, and he doesn’t have any real room to argue with me here. He may be crestfallen about losing your desperate and shameless attempts to throw yourself at him for a moment, but I know you’ll agree with me when I say there’ll be plenty of others who’ll help him move on. You’ll be forgotten within minutes, less than the trace of a memory.”
He looked at me as if he expected me to say something or show some sign of injury at his remarks. I did neither. He eventually cleared his throat and glanced at his computer screen.
“What your assessment and review will consist of is to create a new campaign for the Laddie’s drapes and linens line,” he said, twisting his computer screen around so I could see some charts on it. “You can see the usual performance of your campaigns here. This is woefully inadequate. We need you to drop your cost per click from twenty-one cents to fourteen cents while improving your ROI from one hundred and twenty-five percent to one hundred and fifty percent. You’ll have today to create, tomorrow to run and test, and by the end of Friday we’ll review your results.”
I nodded distractedly.
“OK, so that’s all I have to do then,” I said without much feeling. To my surprise the task didn’t actually seem that challenging. A focused campaign with a small budget could get lucky and hit those numbers. I would just have to be laser-focused on the reporting. My thoughts got interrupted by more words coming out of Martin’s mouth.
“One other detail. The target audience for this campaign is exclusively men.”
“Men?” I gasped. It felt like a bucket of cold water had woken me up.
“Yes, men. They’re like women but with penises.”
“What men are going to buy drapes and tablecloths at a fast enough rate to achieve any results, let alone really good ones? Men are never targeted for these products.”
Martin had a satisfied expression on his face as he leaned back. He must’ve known that yanking something away that was within reach would get more of a reaction than making it stupidly impossible from the get go.
“Quite right. It’s an untapped market. Could be an opportunity. Is this all clear then? You know what you need to do, else Friday will regrettably be your final day here. Get to it. Pip pip,” he said, waving me away with increasing intensity as I didn’t immediately go. I had an idea that just might work.
“I’m going to do this, and I’ll watch you tell Keenan how I passed with flying colors.”
I exited to the sound of Martin’s snide laughter, but I had a Buffy the Vampire Slayer mindset as I stormed back to my desk. The task was right there and I was ready to attack it with all the vigor I possessed. Men buying napkins and doilies online? A piece of cake. Martin would wish he’d made me try to get children to spend their allowances on denture cleaner by the time I was finished with him.
An empty text box on the screen waited for me to fill it with brilliance. I stared hard at it, shaking my fingers a bit as I do sometimes when I’m trying to fight through nerves. Eventually I decided I did need to take a real wa
lk to sort out what the best approach would be. It was cold out, but that meant there were fewer people on the streets. I walked around the block about ten times before going back in.
It was hard not to lean on stereotypes when devising my copy. Between violence and sex, the latter seemed more willingly yolked to the products I had to peddle. Your wife will put out if she thinks you actually care about the state of the house. Buy these drapes. Bringing a girlfriend home for the first time? These hand towels will put her in the mood. I was ashamed to have considered those ideas, which were offensive to pretty much everyone.
But I kept thinking. There were men out there who appreciated good quality material and had nice, well-maintained homes. Why wouldn’t they be interested in fabrics that reflected their tastes? Blues and greens in the ad images rather than peach and white were just going to be more popular colors with this demographic, probably already matching what they had.
The trick was how to find them and what words would spur them into action. I tried to remember what Keenan had said to me, that there were multiple truths but one that stood out as the strongest motivator. I felt that drawing attention to these products as a mark of their sophistication was going to be the biggest winner.
By the end of the day, I’d had everything submitted and was ready to start running and fine-tuning my tests the next day. But instead of immediately getting up to leave, I sat and finally took a minute to contemplate the other challenge I’d been given. Was I going to meet Chelsea at the noodle shop and listen to her bad mouth the man I’d been making out with last night? Another tough call, but I decided I wasn’t afraid of the truth.
I arrived at the noodle shop first, sat down, and wondered if Chelsea was actually going to show up or if she was just jerking me around. But a few minutes later she came in and took off a massive scarf that must’ve been twenty feet long. I sat there patiently as she started looking over the menu. After she had two separate sips of water, I was more than ready to get on with it.