This Could Hurt

by Jillian Medoff

  22

  A week later, after months of meetings, phone calls, and Rosa-triage, the all-employee town hall had finally arrived. It started at eight thirty, so Leo and Lucy met for coffee, hailed a cab, and swung by Rosa’s building at seven. But when they pulled up to the curb, Rosa told them she preferred to walk. “The hotel is a few blocks away.” She knocked on the driver’s window to hand him her credit card. “We could all use the exercise.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Lucy said, still in the cab. “We have a lot of gear.”

  Leo was sweating in his suit. “It’s too hot.” He also had a nagging hangover. The night before, he’d met Thomas for a drink, which turned into three (each), and the next thing he knew, they were making out like teenagers. Knowing he had to be up at five, Leo went home alone, and now he was wired, cranky, and still horny as hell. “I vote we ride.”

  “Stop whining, both of you,” Rosa said, already halfway down the street. “Let’s go.”

  The good news: Rosa was in excellent form. She wore a new St. John in a tomato-red color that matched her lipstick, and her hair and makeup were flawless. As they trooped to the hotel with their bags, she reviewed the agenda and assigned last-minute tasks, all the while on the phone with Katie.

  Leo was trying to text as he walked, but he kept stumbling.

  “Are you texting your new boyfriend?” Rosa asked coyly, watching him.

  “Who told you I have a boyfriend?”

  “I have eyes, Leo, first of all. I see everything. Second, you’ve had your head in the clouds for weeks. And third, why shouldn’t you have a boyfriend?”

  “I haven’t been in the clouds; I’ve been here and focused.”

  “Oh, Leo, please. I don’t want you here and focused. I want you to have a life. Oh! There’s the hotel!” Rosa sped up. “Come along, come along. We have a lot to do!”

  Leo glanced at Lucy. “She seems fine, right? Maybe we worry too much.”

  “Fake it till you feel it. Isn’t that what she always says?”

  “You think Rosa’s faking it?”

  “I was referring to myself.”

  Katie stood outside the hotel, clipboard in hand. “Over here!” She waved.

  Seeing her, Rosa lit up. “Good morning!” She looked around. “Where’s Kenny?”

  “Oh, he’s been here for hours; right now he’s with the events manager.”

  “Terrific! Let’s find him and see what’s what.” Rosa crossed the lobby, flanked by Lucy and Katie. Behind them, Leo noted how put-together they looked, even Katie, who wore a slim-fitting gray suit, silk blouse, and heels. So far, Lucy’s influence on her had been strikingly positive, which Leo found reassuring. To his mind, it could’ve gone either way.

  When they stepped into the banquet room, Kenny leaped to grab their gear as he filled Rosa in on last-minute details, including the 10 percent discount on the food and drinks he’d managed to negotiate. Looking around, Leo could see that Kenny had done well coordinating the space and acoustics. The room had thirty-five round tables, each with ten seats, to accommodate everyone in the New York office. Along the walls, a buffet offered bagels, muffins, fruit, and coffee. At the front, a makeshift stage rose four feet off the ground, and a lectern and chairs were set up for department heads and board members, who had started trickling in. By this point, Rosa was front and center, shaking hands. In her bright St. John, she added a punch of color to the crowd of mostly middle-aged men in drab suits and ties. Rutherford had been pleased with her presentation during last Friday’s run-through, so Leo felt optimistic—and relieved—about today.

  His phone dinged with a text from Rob, wishing him good luck. (After Leo’s out-and-proud speech last month, he was sure Rob would ditch him, but in fact, their argument drew them closer. Now they spoke every day.)

  Twenty minutes later, the town hall was under way.

  So far so good, Leo thought as Rosa stepped toward the lectern. Seated directly in front of the stage, the HR team had a perfect view. Not that it mattered—he was texting with Thomas.

  Gorgeous day. Let’s be 2gether NOW NOW NOW

  V tempting but at town hall then full day of work

  No more work, want 2 take train 2 Coney Island, soak in sun, study locals & each other

  UGH. Coney Island=Yard Time @ prison

  Dirty sand, toxic water, people fighting 4 space

  It’s Tues morning, beach will be empty . . .

  Up on the riser, Rosa thanked Rutherford for his introduction and then turned to the audience. “Good morning. I’m so pleased to be here. I’ve been asked to present HR’s current initiatives and say a few words about each of our projects for 2010. Boy, we have a lot going on! So . . .”

  At which point, heads bent over devices and side conversations resumed.

  . . . blue sky, hot sun, lapping waves, ME, ME, ME . . .

  For the next ten minutes, Leo texted with Thomas, tried to focus on Rosa, and then texted Thomas some more. The start of an affair was by far the best part, particularly since Leo’s track record with men wasn’t great. Over the years he’d had a series of boyfriends, but except for Horatio, none of his relationships lasted more than nine months. He worried this might happen with Thomas. They’d date for a while, fuck their brains out, and then what? They’d fall in love, move in together. Then one of them would cheat. Or need more time than the other could give. Or work too much. Or work too little. Then the other would bolt. Whoa, Leo thought. Slow down. This always happened, too: he got ahead of himself, envisioning the end before things even started.

  Rosa’s voice deepened. “And now, I have an important announcement.”

  Lucy looked up. “What kind of announcement? Katie, what is Rosa announcing?” She nudged him. “Leo, pay attention! Rosa is going rogue.”

  Say yes, say yes, say yes!

  “When I first came to Ellery, HR was just a handful of clerical workers and one facilities manager. But Rutherford had a vision, which he hired me to execute, and now, sixteen years later, I’m proud to report that our department is more robust and responsive than even he imagined. As a strategic business unit, HR develops programs that will help drive Ellery’s growth, efficiency, and profitability through the next decade and beyond. HR recruits the highest-performing talent; offers comprehensive and affordable benefits to you and your families; and provides training opportunities so that each of you can flourish professionally.”

  Closing his eyes, Leo envisioned hot sun, sandy beaches, iced coffee, Thomas. Focus on the now, he told himself. Stay in the moment. Don’t ruin this.

  “Ellery depends on you, and you depend on Human Resources. So let’s give a round of applause to the HR team. Guys! Stand up, please: Lucy Bender, Leo Smalls, Kenny Verville, Courtney Adams, Juanita Johnson, and Katherine Reynolds. Leo! Lucy! Come on, everyone up, up. On your feet.”

  Leo opened his eyes. Was she serious? “Lucy, was this part of the speech you wrote?”

  “What do you think?” But she stood up and waved. “I want to die,” she said through a clenched smile.

  “. . . which is why,” Rosa went on, “I want to announce—”

  LEO? Where R U?

  “—my retirement, effective this December. In the coming months, I’ll transition—”

  “Her retirement?” Lucy asked, turning to Leo. “Since when? Did you know about this?”

  Up on the stage, Rosa Guerrero was giving the speech of her life. First, she backtracked, describing her early years and what corporate life was like for women and minorities. “I was a second-class citizen. If my coworkers didn’t ignore me, they cut me off or spoke over me. I had to fight every day to be heard. We’ve made some progress, but still have a long way to go. So I implore you to reach out to coworkers who don’t look or sound like you—reach out and truly listen to them. Our industry is becoming more diverse every day; Ellery must be equally diverse, not just to keep pace, but to thrive in the twenty-first century.” Then she talked about employees she’d mentored in her c
areer, using words like investment, loyalty, and sacrifice, and explaining why it was vital to contribute to a greater good. “I started working when I was eighteen. I’m sixty-four now, so that’s forty-six years. Forty-six years. In business, we’re not supposed to discuss age, but I’ll tell you one thing: forty-six years is a very long time. I’ll tell you another thing: it wasn’t always easy. But even on my most challenging days, I felt something: exhaustion, pride, joy, sometimes sadness. Mostly, I felt strong for having survived. Which is probably the greatest lesson of all my years in business: a working life doesn’t just keep you solvent, it defines you, shapes your character, reveals what you’re made of. Work was where I found my best self, and even after forty-six years, there’s no place in the world I’d rather be.” Finally, Rosa expressed her love for Ellery, and thanked Rutherford and the board for their ongoing support. She especially wanted to thank her staff, each of whom reflected a part of her legacy.

  Holding the microphone, Rosa glided across the stage like a beloved politician. She looked so fluid, so polished in her red suit, she was the picture of lucidity and control. But hours later, people would recall how, when the shimmering lights overhead caught her eye, she stumbled in her sensible pumps and skidded forward, then flew off the riser and into the air. She was so graceful, some thought it was part of her speech, even as her legs came out from under and her head smacked the floor. A half beat, a pause, then all hell broke loose.

  23

  ROSALITA GUERRERO, CHIEF OF HUMAN RESOURCES, EXECUTIVE VICE PRESIDENT

  JULY 2010

  She missed Peter; it was true. He used to bring her gifts from the road: sweet Georgia peaches (“a sweet peach for a sweet peach”), chewy peanut brittle, a snow globe from Raleigh. Little treats that made her day. Peter was a giving man, a loving man, which is why his behavior continued to baffle her. How does a person show up with a perfect piece of fruit one day and embezzle the next? How did that make sense?

  Rosa never did find out if they caught the kid in the hoodie, the one who stole all the iMacs. She bet he was still at large. A scam like that took forethought; the kid probably plotted for months. Peter, by contrast, sat at his desk and wrote himself checks. The clumsiest robbery on record, but he almost pulled it off, so shame on her for being blind. On the other hand, he’d never given her any reason to doubt him, so of course she trusted him. She trusted him so much she doubted herself, despite the black-and-white proof in her hand.

  Rosa was in her office. Someone had switched out her chair; this new one was too low and gave her a backache. Every time she shifted, searing pain radiated up and down her spine. Radiate was a ten-dollar word. She’d forgotten that expression, “ten-dollar words.” It came from grammar school, from Mrs. Hutch in fourth grade who gave her Weekly Readers, which Rosa had devoured. She still read the paper every day, but whether or not this habit started with the Weekly Reader, who knew. Analyzing too deeply was borrowing trouble. Teasing the devil, her mother would say when Rosa asked too many unanswerable questions. In business you have to focus on the whos, whats, whens, and hows; you can’t get bogged down with the whys. And the pain did radiate, which was the best way to describe the burning that fanned up and out, across her back, like rays of the sun. It hurt too much to sit up and type, so she hunched over and handwrote a note.

  “Lucy.” She spoke aloud as she scribbled. “I want the engagement survey. I realize there were mitigating circumstances, but I’m losing patience.” What else? “Thank you,” she added.

  Despite this business with the survey, Lucy was turning out to be a superb number two. One day she’d make a fine chief. Now, though, her tongue was still too sharp, and she was overly concerned with the whys. But Lucy was smart, so the whys were in her nature, and Rosa could see she was trying to change. Eventually she’d soften up, and the world would be hers to run as she pleased. This, Rosa knew because in her first big job, she’d been a bitch on wheels until she realized she didn’t have to be nasty for people to do as she asked. Kindness, she learned, went a whole lot farther. Lucy was just unhappy at the moment, which is a rite of passage for some businesswomen of a certain age. They hit their forties and suddenly realize they’ve spent too many lonely years waiting for a man to appear and their real lives to start, when all along, something was happening, these were their real lives. Waiting is itself a choice, and when you’re a woman, it’s the choice to put work before family.

  Rosa understood Lucy’s predicament all too well; she went through this herself before she met Howard. She woke up one day too old to do anything except tend to her career. Men no longer saw her as female, children (her own) were out of the question. It was painful, yes, but it passed, and afterward she was content with her lot. Nor did she regret not having kids; her life was rich and full. Funny, then, that she met her husband only after she gave up on love. The world was a mysterious, enchanted place, which Rosa was reminded of first when Katherine showed up at Ellery hours after helping her at Starbucks, and second when Kenny grew up right before her eyes. That’s what made Rosa a great chief. She saw the man Kenny could be, and voilà, he emerged. This is what she wanted for all her people—Leo, Lucy, Katherine, even Rob, even Peter—to dig deep and find their best, most true selves. For some, it would happen at Ellery; for others it would take moving on, though this was the beauty of a corporate career: every new job is another chance to reinvent yourself. The key is to be the same person at home and at work. This doesn’t mean bleeding your personal problems all over your desk—no one cares about your bunions or your kid’s solo in Hairspray—but your core self should appear in both worlds. And for what it’s worth, Lucy looked outstanding these days, so at least she could play the part. As chief, you learn that how you feel is less important than how your staff and your board believe you feel, so your job is to convince them you have it all covered. Fake it till you feel it. This, too, Rosa knew from experience.

  “Lucy,” she continued, “you have until Friday the . . .”—What was the date? Rosa glanced at her watch, but her arm was bare. The town hall had been on Tuesday, two days back, July the . . . the what? She couldn’t remember—“ . . . until this Friday to give me the survey. Period.”

  Rosa’s door was open, and she could hear a woman’s heels click like knitting needles as she strode down the hall. Rosa was attuned to the sound of women’s shoes, an unconscious habit she picked up as a child. Her mother, Anita, had no arches in her feet and always wore a wedge, day and night, for support. As soon as Anita came home, she took off her street shoes and slipped on an ancient pair of mules, which she clomped around in all evening. Lying in bed, half-asleep and half-awake, Rosa was comforted by the dusty clip-clop, clip-clop of her mother’s feet as she moved through their apartment, tidying up the kitchen and shutting off the lights.

  Rosa tried raising her left arm, but it too was sore. She lifted her right one (her stroke arm), and that seemed okay, but it was hard to tell since most of the feeling was gone. Once upon a time, she had been a hearty woman, strong and busty. But lately she felt frail; she also had no appetite. All her St. Johns hung like drapes, which was why she’d bought the new red one. (It wasn’t because of her retirement announcement; that was a coincidence.) Plus, she planned to consult after she retired, so she’d still need her St. Johns. What else would she do? Sit alone and watch TV? Knit booties for the grandchildren she didn’t have?

  “Lucy, please see me if you have questions. Period. Thank you (again). Best, Rosa.” She couldn’t push send, so she placed the note in her out-box. “Send,” she said anyway.

  Swiveling around, she called out, “Leo!” and was startled to see him slumped in a chair, next to her desk. “Oh my God! You look terrible.” He was rumpled and unshaven, as if he hadn’t slept for days. “How long have you been sitting there?”

  Blinking, he rubbed his eyes. “I was here most of the night.”

  “Are you insane?” Even so, she was proud to hear this, her loyal footman pulling an all-nighter. “Go home an
d get some sleep.” She heard her bossy tone. Fetch the car, James. I have a board meeting at noon. “I’m not kidding, Leo.”

  “I’m fine.” He yawned. “I’m more concerned with how you are.”

  How was she? How was she? It was nice that he cared, but honestly, she felt fine. Well, her back was stiff and hurt like hell—because of the new chair, she assumed—and her mouth was dry, her right side felt bruised, and she couldn’t lift her left arm. “I’m okay,” she told him.

  “What about your head?”

  Now that he mentioned it, her head was killing her. “I do have a headache. There’s Tylenol in my bag. Also? I wouldn’t mind a Starbucks.”

  She started to stand up, but Leo leaped out of his chair. “Don’t move! Stay right there. I’ll get whatever you need. By the way, your sister stopped by. She’s in town.”

  “Marcy came here? Really?”

  “I know! I couldn’t believe it either, but she’s in the city and staying at your place.” Leo stretched his arms and legs and then checked his phone. “I’ll be right back, so please try and relax.”

  “Coffee with milk—whole milk, please,” she said, waiting for him to chide her about the whatever, the whatchamacallit, the points. “A doughnut, too. And I’ll just relax here until you get back.” She chuckled. Relax—what a cockamamy thing for him to say. As if she could ever relax with people racing down the halls, her BlackBerry pinging, her phone ringing, ringing, ringing with requests for payroll clerks, extra time off, permission to work from home. The Wizard of Oz, Lucy used to call her, Ozzy when she felt generous. Lucy figured she didn’t know about the nickname, but of course she did. (And for the record? Rosa loved the name Ozzy. It was a compliment, after all.) Rosa was HR chief. She knew everything: Leo had an eleventh-floor hideaway; Lucy went out with the security guard but broke it off; Kenny no longer loved his wife but couldn’t tell her. They all had their secrets, which she accepted. This was a business, not group therapy. It was the thievery, the lying, she couldn’t abide.