Consent_A #MeToo Romance

by Jason Letts

  “So I’m here. What do you have to say?” I said. She glanced around like she hadn’t been aware anyone had been sharing the table with her.

  “Me? I’m not going to say anything,” she said. My groan must’ve been loud enough for her to hear.

  “Then what are we doing here?”

  “We’re waiting. Ahh, here we go,” Chelsea said, standing up as the bell on the door rang. A woman with short, stiff blonde hair that had a slight spiky effect to it walked in. She wore a puffy brown coat with fur around the hood but hadn’t had it up and looked like she was freezing enough to make her teeth chatter. I recognized this woman as the one Chelsea and I had seen Keenan with that one day.

  “Cassie, right?” I said politely, extending my hand. She barely grazed my fingers before she let go.

  “This is Sarah, whom I was telling you about,” Chelsea said. “You have something in common.”

  “I bet we have a lot in common,” I said, still trying to be nice, but Cassie gave me a tired look as she sat down and pulled her chair up to the table.

  “We don’t need to make friends. You’re never going to see me after this. And we don’t have to pretend like we have to talk about anything other than Keenan. I remember meeting his previous ex-girlfriend and feeling exactly like you did, like I could be best friends with anyone in front of me. How quickly the situation gets reversed.”

  I raised my eyebrows, a little taken aback at Cassie’s cold, jaded words. She was a remarkably pretty lady but it did look as if the life had been sucked out of her. Chelsea nodded, letting her curls bob.

  “Well I appreciate you coming here and for accepting my Facebook message out of the blue. I don’t think this is really fun for any of us, but the least we can do is eat some noodles.” We put in our order and then she went on. “The part I’d most like to hear is how you broke up with my boss.”

  Cassie scratched the back of her hand before giving me a long look.

  “There are some parts of Keenan that are out there for everybody to see. He doesn’t mince words. He takes action. He has a lot of ideas and can get into deep conversations. That’s all great. But once you get to see him up close you see he has some strange habits, hang-ups, and an expectation that he’ll have the final word in an argument and that things get resolved by you seeing his side.

  “It’s easy to make concessions and compromises, but after a while doing things his way still isn’t good enough anymore. I have a sweet tooth like you would not believe, and with my metabolism it doesn’t matter, but he really wanted me to be going to the gym almost every day. One of his fun date ideas was to take me to a dietician so we could plan a change to healthy eating. He caught me with a gallon of ice cream and couldn’t believe that I wouldn’t follow through on what we agreed was best for me.”

  I nodded. It wasn’t so farfetched that I couldn’t believe it of Keenan.

  “I’m…‌sure you were devastated,” I said, quickly deciding not to apologize that it didn’t work out for her because it would seem disingenuous. Cassie gave me a very forced, closed-mouthed smile.

  “It took some time to realize he was doing me a favor. He wasn’t the worst boyfriend I ever had, but he was close,” she said.

  Chelsea didn’t hesitate to jump in here.

  “What exactly was so bad? I mean, trying to change how you dress, what you eat, and what you do isn’t good at all, but is that the worst of it?”

  “He just had occasional moments where he would completely fly off the handle. He’d be nice and talkative one minute, and then he’d get into a rage the next over something I hadn’t even noticed. I kept trying to see if he had any mail from doctors, because there’s a real good chance he’s bipolar. Or at least he acts like it.” She chuckled a little as if having a medical condition was a joke to her.

  “There were little things, like the way he’d look at me sometimes. It was unsettling, like he wanted to do something violent to me. I never saw it until we started dating. He did a fair amount of shouting, some of it right in my ear when he would say I wasn’t listening. Grabbing me hard by the sleeve. One time we were at a restaurant and I spent too much time looking at the dessert menu. He pulled me right out of my chair and forced me outside. That was probably the worst thing.”

  “How terrible,” Chelsea said, sounding genuinely aggrieved. I had to admit I was listening. I’d heard things like what she was saying so many times, but I didn’t want to believe it was true of Keenan. Was I being blind and leading myself into trouble?

  “It was pretty much the same as what the girl before me said. The only difference was that Keenan hated the makeup she wore and all of these pet fish she had. He seems to fixate on something different for everyone. Maybe you’ve already noticed him badgering you about things you do,” she said, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

  I felt the urge to nod and go along with it. That seemed easier than saying that I’d really only seen Keenan once and had a kiss besides, which didn’t seem to really even qualify as a relationship, or wasn’t even enough time for him to pick apart the things in my life.

  “Care to share how any of this strikes you?” Chelsea added when I didn’t speak up. I swallowed.

  “It sounds like he just wasn’t the right person for you, Cassie. I’m incredibly grateful for both of you for how much you so obviously care about my well being, but what Keenan and I do is our own business, and things he might’ve felt compelled to do for other people may not be an issue with our dynamic,” I said.

  “Your dynamic?” Cassie said, looking suddenly amused. “I don’t think you understand what’s happening. The dynamic with Keenan is always the same. Do things his way or find yourself out in the cold.”

  I could see the server preparing to bring over our bowls, but I’d already had my fill. I dropped my napkin on the table and got up.

  “If there are things you need to speak to a counselor about, I recommend you do that. I’ve spent enough time letting you air your grievances, if you ask me. I hope you were speaking truthfully about that one part, that we wouldn’t see each other again.”

  I left them behind and grabbed something quick to eat on my way home. It was hard not to feel ambivalent about Chelsea. These were the kinds of conversations I wanted to be having with women, and she had given me an accurate window into a lot of what I would be experiencing at Mouse Roar, but she always had a cold, unfriendly manner. I wasn’t an equal to her and despite what she said that was for my benefit I never for a minute thought she really cared.

  There were more important things for me to be focusing on anyway. The next morning came in a flash and there I was at my desk watching my test campaigns go live.

  “All right, boys. Do it for me one time,” I whispered to myself. The ads would be distributed among a number of platforms, from search to Facebook to mobile and apps. I was cautiously optimistic, and I continuously reread my copy looking for ways to improve it as I awaited the first sets of data to appear in the reports.

  In the back of my mind I couldn’t stop thinking about Keenan. Sure, he was away in Vegas having a blast and probably getting slept on at the moment, but I was going to do something that no one thought could be done that would really get his attention.

  The click numbers began to fill in the reports. Good, better than I could’ve guessed actually, but not good enough to retain my job. A lot depended on the buying too, which was a big, wide-open question. I fine-tuned and revised, creating more segments on the fly as new ideas occurred to me. Overall there was reason to be optimistic.

  But the day wore on and the improvements I’d hoped to see didn’t materialize to the degree that I needed. I was getting closer to my goal, but there was a gap between it and where I was that I just couldn’t close. Martin walked by once or twice with curious glances at my screen. He was lucky he didn’t lean close or say anything to me because I was getting so irritable I might’ve tried to bite him.

  I left at the end of the day with a ball in my stomach ful
l of dread that I wasn’t going to make it. The purchases had again been better than I would’ve imagined, better even than some of the ad sets that had been shown exclusively to women, but my target numbers remained stubbornly out of reach. Unless a lot of men wanted to kick off their weekend by upgrading their dining rooms, I was going to be in trouble.

  “It’s game time. Good luck, Miss Faverly,” Martin said the instant I sat down the next morning to conduct the campaigns that would determine whether or not I was able to keep my job. Unsurprisingly, his tone and expression made it clear he was hoping I would fail. He’d even brought an empty box for me to put personal belongings in, not that I’d ever brought many to work.

  The other guys around clearly knew what was going on as well. Hendrick actually came over from his desk by the elevators to waste my time picking things over and trying to give me advice. I only had a few minutes left before everything would start running.

  “This looks real good,” he said, “but if it doesn’t work out there are a few things you could help me with as a freelancer.”

  Getting hit on right now was the last thing I needed.

  “Are they things you’d have a man do if I were one?” I asked. A momentary cringe told me I’d correctly surmised what he was offering, but he shook it off.

  “Of course. Why wouldn’t it?”

  I told him to get lost so I could return to work. Finally I had enough space to look things over and watch it all unfold. But something about that conversation with Hendrick hit me. Why hadn’t I thought of it before? It had to be so much easier. Gay men. Targeting them would be way more effective than what I had been doing and still fit into Martin’s stipulations. He’d obviously not considered this route himself.

  Hastily shutting down everything I spent days working on, I cranked out a new ad set in a little over ten minutes. I’d missed the usual start time but was confident that this was going to produce better results and put me in reach of my goal. I never thought I’d really cared about this job, but now that I was at risk of losing it I was ready to fight tooth and nail to keep it.

  Staring at the screen like it was the only thing that existed, I waited anxiously for confirmation that I’d struck gold. It was so obvious that I couldn’t believe I hadn’t thought of this before. The ad copy, the targeting, it was all a snap.

  But the numbers, while better than yesterday’s, weren’t the mind-blowing success I’d been anticipating. A few revisions and tweaks would be enough to get the job done though, and I pounded away on the keyboard straight through lunch to refine everything and close off under-performing segments.

  The afternoon wore on, and I got the sense that I was running out of time to improve the numbers enough to make up for the weaker ones from the morning. A chill swept up my arms and my typing got slower. If I’d had one more day with these I could’ve done it, but my chance was out of reach now.

  Martin came around at the end of the day.

  “Scoot, scoot,” he said, like I was a cat in his seat. “Let’s have a looksie.”

  He made some clicking noises with his tongue as he perused the reports, finally shaking his head and looking over at me ruefully.

  “Just a hair away. Heartbreaking. A valiant effort, really,” he said, laying the sarcasm on thick.

  “I think a lot of people in your position, having gotten what they wanted, would find a way to stop being so smarmy and move on,” I said, my eyes shooting lasers at him.

  “I didn’t get what I wanted,” he said, glaring at me.

  A chuckle escaped my lips involuntarily.

  “Oh, right. Don’t worry. I’m sure you’ll be able to make a woman very miserable someday, but it won’t be me.”

  “This is for you,” Martin said, handing over a sheet of paper bearing his signature that confirmed the cancellation of my contract. It had been dated a week ago.

  The thought crossed my mind to say something, either to Martin or everybody who was now watching me get canned, but I knew it was pointless. The time would be better spent sprucing up my resume. I wondered if Keenan would allow me to put him down as a reference.

  Without saying anything, I turned to leave. This time there was no mysterious envelope in my box, no reason to linger. It was strange to feel so bad about losing the worst job I’d ever had.

  And having the entire weekend to dwell on it made it worse. I made an unannounced visit to my sister’s but couldn’t deliver the unwelcome news that I was again unemployed. They knew I was in a funk and let me play with Patrick to get my mind off it.

  Driving back on Sunday, I started to again feel incensed about what happened. There was no real way Keenan was going to let Martin get rid of me like that. I was sure of it. If I did the same test again, I knew I could pass it. There had to be some extenuating circumstances. If Keenan cared about me at all, he’d find a way for me to keep my job. It was the only way I could keep being in his life.

  On Monday morning I got up and got myself together as if I still worked at Mouse Roar. I’d made up my mind that I was going to march in there, demand to see Keenan, and get what I rightfully deserved. There was no way he wouldn’t listen to reason.

  I arrived a few minutes early but was surprised and delighted to see the entryway and elevators clear of people who I didn’t want to face. It began to look like a little luck was finally coming my way.

  But everyone wasn’t already upstairs on the office floor either. Hendrick’s desk was empty, and as I stepped around it I saw that literally no one had come in to work today. Was it a holiday that I’d forgotten about? The lights were on, though, but that was it. Not a single computer was running, no sounds of voices anywhere. It was like everyone had vanished into thin air.

  I went farther in and saw that the door to Keenan’s office was open, but there was no one inside.

  “Hello?” I said, wondering what the reason for this could be. It was Monday, right? Yes. The creak of a chair in the distance made me turn.

  Keenan was sitting alone over near Chelsea’s corner, apparently just staring through the window at the other tall buildings in the city. As I cautiously approached him, his head and eyes turned to me as if they were moving in slow motion.

  “Keenan, where is everybody?” I asked in a whisper.

  He sighed and turned back to the window, clearly embarrassed to be seen. I could tell he was hurting and it made me want to reach out to him. What had happened?

  “I told everyone not to bother coming in. The company is shutting down. We’re finished.”

  CHAPTER 7

  I pulled up a chair and sat as close to Keenan as I could. He seemed to be trying to keep still, but his hand was shaking slightly. I couldn’t even imagine what was going through his mind.

  “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

  “I wrote everyone an email saying we’re done. Didn’t you get it?” He wasn’t angry, but he looked plenty shell-shocked. Whatever went down in Vegas, it had to be traumatic. I looked down at my feet.

  “No, I didn’t get it. While you were gone, Martin found a way to cancel my contract. Before I even left the building all of my accounts were closed,” I said, looking up to gauge his reaction.

  “Oh,” Keenan said, not demonstrating any emotion over what had happened to me. Maybe he thought it didn’t matter since Mouse Roar was done for anyway, or he might’ve been hurting too badly to empathize. From the dazed look on his face he didn’t seem to be hearing what I said that well.

  “What makes you say the company is finished?” I asked slowly. He didn’t answer immediately, and I wondered if I’d have to sit there all morning to get it out of him, but he slowly leaned forward, an elbow against the table, and nodded at me. His beautiful green eyes were as big as saucers.

  “You know Connoisaurus? They announced they’re opening up a boutique digital marketing arm. They’re taking everything they learned from me and they’re going to sell it to everyone else. I wasn’t in denial that they wanted all the money out there,
but I just never imagined they’d be coming after mine so soon,” he said.

  I pursed my lips, trying to nonverbally tell him I was there for him. It was hard to know what to say when I didn’t have a firm grasp on what this all meant.

  “So we lost our biggest client. There have to be others…”

  “They’re all gone. Laddie’s, Marta Incorporated, Yodelo. There weren’t that many to begin with. We were mostly just catering to large conglomerates. Connoisaurus went behind our backs and convinced them all to sign over. That’s how deep they were in our operation. They knew everyone we were working with and took them all. We literally don’t have a reason to push a button here,” he said.

  I was taken aback and the full breadth of what had happened was finally hitting me. It really was all gone.

  “Why would they do that to you?” I asked. A sad grin spread across his face.

  “They don’t care about me.”

  We sat in silence for a while. I was trying to think about why they did that and what we could do about it. Keenan was too stunned to move. I’d wanted more alone time with him, but not like this. It was strange looking at him in this defeated state. I couldn’t believe it was really him. Even despite this terrible blow, he wasn’t acting like how I’d imagined he would. Deep down I had a sense that he wasn’t the type to lie down like this, but it was going to take some help.

  “So what are you going to do?” I asked. He glanced around and took a deep breath like he’d forgotten I was there.

  “Probably head home in a bit. Maybe the gym and some pizza. I just wanted to come here one more time before I left it behind,” he said.

  “So you’re quitting?” I asked. He looked at me and his eyebrows narrowed.

  “Did you hear what I said? It’s all over.”

  “You said all of your clients were gone. What about trying to get new clients? In everything I read about you they always talked about what incredible connections you had,” I said.

  “My connections were one guy at Connoisaurus,” Keenan grumbled. “And he was there on stage talking about his bold new marketing initiative. I was sitting in the audience forced to listen to how he was going to put me out of business. About halfway through other people around started to give me these uncomfortable looks. Everyone knew what was happening. It couldn’t have been more embarrassing if I’d shown up to the presentations buck-naked. I just sat there trying to act like I wasn’t impressed as they listed all my clients as their special launch partners. On the way out there were people laughing at me. They knew I was washed up. I only wish they’d had that presentation the first day instead of the last.”