CHAPTER 15
Excerpt from Petra Polly: Chapter 9—Dealing with Failure by Forgetting about Success
So your idea fails. What now? Some will worry, some will give up, and some will keep pushing the dying idea until it is a lifeless, floppy mess. None of these will help. What will help is forgetting. Forget the concept of success, at least temporarily. Forget the failure. Forget the stress and the disappointment. Don’t analyze what went wrong. Don’t flog a dead horse. Forget it all so you can be reborn. A clean slate. No ideas ever existed before this very moment. Free yourself from the pressure of success, and you’ll free yourself of the oppressiveness of failure.
“What happened to reaching the brass ring?” I asked Jackie while she blew smoke in the other direction. The Landon presentations were scheduled for the evening, and the atmosphere at Guh was nearly intolerable. Each duo guarded their project with police-dog ferocity—even Jackie hadn’t told me what she and Seth had come up with. She stalked across the office, looking miserable when she asked me to join her for a break, so I assumed things weren’t going well. I thought Glynnis and I did a decent job—not spectacular, but not merely passable. We had a chance.
Jackie made a disapproving sound. “Petra Polly was drunk when she wrote this. Like Rhiannon said, she makes fuck-all sense.”
“If we see her in a bar, we’re beating her silly.”
“I want to yank those golden braids. Hard.”
“She’s probably the type who’d like it.”
We laughed, but there was no joy in it. Because it came from fear.
“We’re not ready,” Jackie said after a fierce inhale. “Seth thinks we are, but we’re not. I don’t think he understands what’s on the line here.”
“I think he does,” I assured her. “But even if he doesn’t, you know what you’re doing. You’ve got this.”
Jackie shrugged. “I didn’t tell you, but I sent out some résumés about ten days ago. I haven’t heard a word. Not a word. I can’t lose this job, Paige.”
“You won’t. It’s not going to be us that get the boot. It can’t be.”
“I don’t see Rhiannon and Byron failing.” Jackie quietly finished her cigarette. We gazed out at the empty parking lot.
“I miss the market when it’s not here,” Jackie said. “Hard as it is to admit.”
“We need to have another dinner at my house.” I checked my phone. It was five o’clock. “It’s time to get back upstairs. Lukas is going to be prompt.”
Jackie put a hand tentatively on my arm. “Paige, if it is me, will you still keep up our . . . friendship?”
There was so much insecurity in her eyes. There shouldn’t have been. We’d known each other for nearly two decades. It shamed me to think I hadn’t strengthened our connection over the years enough that she wouldn’t be so afraid it would snap easily.
“Of course we’ll still be friends.” I drew her into a quick hug. Her sprayed hair tickled my nose, and she smelled like Poison. “Our friendship goes beyond this office. You know that.”
“Does it?”
“Now it does. I know it wasn’t always like that.”
“I like how it is now,” Jackie said, starting to cry. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you more when Jesse died.”
“Oh, but you were.” Honestly, I couldn’t remember. The months after Jesse died were a blur of people offering gifts I could never repay—food, gift cards, checks for Trey’s college fund. I didn’t remember even writing thank-you notes, but I was grateful for everything. Had Jackie sent flowers? Brought over a casserole? Hell if I knew. It was easier to assume she had. And knowing her, she’d done something. And I was indeed grateful.
“Thanks for being a good friend,” I whispered in her ear.
“But I’m not,” she sobbed. “I’m not.”
“Why would you say that?”
She pulled away. We were close enough for me to see that Jackie’s mascara-stained eyes were full of shame. “There’s something I haven’t told you.”
No one liked to hear those words, as so rarely did they end with an explanation that brought anything but sorrow or disappointment.
I steeled myself. “What is it?”
“I loved him. With my whole heart. I loved every part of him.”
My mind reeled. “Who?”
She swallowed. “Big Frank.”
I had to let that register for a moment. Jackie and Big Frank? KiKi, aka Mrs. Big Frank, had died only a few years before he did. Had he and Jackie been carrying on an affair? I suddenly felt sick.
“What? How?”
She lowered her eyes. “I never told him. Never acted on it. I obsessed about it, and tried to manipulate situations so he and I would be together at the office. I bought him presents for his birthday and Christmas. I have photos of him in my apartment. That sounds so weird, right? I made a fool out of myself at the Christmas party, trying to get him on the dance floor.”
I didn’t remember that. I was so lost to my own grief at the office party, and even more so when Big Frank was found.
“I regret that I acted like a love-struck teenager. It wasn’t right, even after KiKi died.”
“I don’t know if you can assign right and wrong to that situation. You couldn’t help the way you felt. Do you think he knew?”
She paused before answering. “Yes. Once, a few years ago, he walked by my desk and said, ‘Kid, you’re one in a million. And I’m not gonna be the only one who thinks it, because it’s pretty damn obvious to those who get to know ya. Capiche?’”
Classic Big Frank. So he knew. That was his way, the way of kindness. Of course she loved him. Who wouldn’t?
“You think badly of me now,” she said.
“Why would I? I think nothing of the sort, though this does change things.”
“I know,” she said, defeated.
“The way I see it, you’re a widow, too. All the more reason for us to stick together. No matter what happens in that conference room, I’ve got your back, and you sure as hell better have mine. Capiche?”
She put her head on my shoulder. “Capiche.”
We sat around the conference table, pairs huddled together, waiting for Lukas. No one spoke. Our laptops, open in front of us, didn’t provide enough of a shield, and we each glanced around the room, avoiding eye contact. Two of us weren’t going to make it through the evening. Hunger Games, indeed.
Lukas walked in smiling, which seemed exceptionally cruel.
“Paige and Glynnis, you’re up first,” he said brightly.
Glynnis squeezed my hand under the table. Her pallor shifted from pale to snow white, and I squeezed hers back.
“I’ve just sent you all the file,” I said, voice shaking. The others dove into their mailboxes. Were they simply curious or rabid to see us fail? I looked up, and Jackie gave me a subtle thumbs-up. It was enough to give me a little courage.
“Start the video now,” Glynnis squeaked.
The short video that Trey and Colin had begrudgingly helped us with looked polished. The music, ’60s Motown, began, and the image of Diana Ross sitting at her makeup chair, gorgeous and confident, appeared. The music shifted seamlessly into something more modern, and the image morphed into Tina Matthews, pop princess, in a similar position, her eyes showing that whatever the joke was, she was in on it. Then the ad popped up, the makeup in the foreground, the background split between the past and present. We’d re-created both backstage spaces perfectly. The words were displayed in frosty pink letters: The Past Makes a Beautiful Present. Glynnis had added a pink bow around the lipstick at the last minute, and the color contrasted beautifully with the black-and-white photographs.
“I really like it,” Jackie said immediately. She looked up at me, and I could see the pride in her eyes. I was so grateful for it.
“Thank you,” I said.
“The pink is a little too girly,” Rhiannon started, and I wished the earth would open up and swallow her whole. “Overall, I think it’s effective. I like the message.”
Shocked, I could merely nod in her direction.
“You can’t use those images without paying a fortune,” Byron noted.
My smile was brittle. “We’d substitute something similar.”
He flicked a key on his laptop. “Then the effect is completely gone.”
I glanced around the table. All eyes were on me—should I defend myself? I didn’t know. “I disagree,” was all I said.
Lukas put his elbows on the table and peered at me over the top of his glasses. “Byron has a point. You couldn’t go to a client with material that would add substantially to the cost of the project. I like the concept, Paige and Glynnis, really, I do, but I’m not sure of its . . . sustainability.”
“It’s not a rain forest,” I mumbled under my breath, and Glynnis kicked me. The others stared at us in relief. We hadn’t hit this one out of the park. We’d made it to first base, but that barely counted, even in make-out sessions.
“Byron, why don’t you show us what you and Rhiannon have come up with,” Lukas said, turning his attention to the A team. But had they brought their A game?
Rhiannon and Byron shared a smile, and then fiddled on their laptops for a minute. “It’s yours now,” Rhiannon said. “Take a look.”
It was a psychedelic Peter Max–style extravaganza—the colors of Landon’s line swirling together in a ’60s-inspired wonderland. The two hipstery girls superimposed over this masterpiece were laughing, passing the lipstick between each other. There was no tagline, simply the Landon logo scrolling across the bottom in hot pink.
Pink!
“I guess pink’s not all bad,” I said to Rhiannon.
“It’s a certain shade,” she retorted. “I’d almost argue it’s got burgundy undertones.”
“It’s arresting,” Lukas said, obviously pleased. “Nice marriage of the past and present.”
Glynnis made a choking sound.
“It feels fresh,” Lukas continued. “Well done.”
“We were going for hipster meets hippie,” Byron said, unable to graciously accept his victory. “I’m glad we succeeded.”
The table fell silent again, but this time the smugness seeping off Byron and Rhiannon gave it an uncomfortable hum.
“Jackie? Seth? You’re up,” Lukas said.
I realized then that Seth had been silent up until that point. I also noticed that his color seemed off, his normally flesh-toned Pantone 62-7 color fading into something with a greenish tint. Was he sick?
“It’s there,” Jackie said flatly.
I found myself looking at an image of a lipstick-shaped rocket hurtling toward a star-laced sky. It was retro, trite, and . . . phallic. Jackie and I had both dismissed that idea as tired when we were sitting around my kitchen table. I caught her eye, and she gave a quick nod and pursed her lips. I noticed how much distance there was between her and Seth. They’d had trouble from the start and obviously hadn’t found a way to overcome it. I wished she’d asked for my help, but then would I have been able to offer any?
“Well,” Lukas said. “Well.”
“The image is well defined,” Rhiannon said in a rare show of grace. “The rocket is . . . dominant . . . and . . . shiny?”
Byron groaned. “Did you intend for it to look like a dildo?”
“Enough,” Lukas interjected. “It’s a traditional take. The space-age theme is a bit obvious, but sometimes that’s what’s needed.” He gathered himself and stood. “Petra Polly does not believe in embarrassing employees, and neither do I. I will share your proposals with Miss Trinka tonight. Tomorrow morning you’ll find an envelope at each of your workstations. Inside will be a card that says ‘stay’ or ‘leave.’ If you are in the position of leaving, take it merely as a sign that there are opportunities for you elsewhere and that you now have the freedom to pursue them. I do ask, however, that if you are asked to leave that you do so immediately, and through the back entrance. Whoever it is, be aware that we all wish you the best of luck. There is no reason for any long, drawn-out goodbyes.”
As we shuffled out of the conference room, bent and defeated, I wondered if Lukas’s method of kicking two of us to the curb was Petra’s method or his own.
It definitely wasn’t Big Frank’s.
Jackie and I decided to meet at the farmers’ market for coffee before one of us possibly lost her livelihood. We grabbed two cups of the best coffee we’d ever tasted and waved at Mykia as she attended to some early customers.
“Seth and I simply could not work together,” Jackie explained as she sipped her coffee. “All of his ideas centered around sex. Or something sexist. Or both.”
“Well, two of us are going to get the boot. I’m worried for Glynnis. And for myself.”
“I’d like to say I’m worried for all of us, but I’m not,” Jackie admitted. “I don’t want to go, and I don’t want you to go either.”
“Lukas was toughest on mine. It’ll be me and Glynnis.” I pushed the unkind thoughts from my mind. The ones that said I wished it would be Rhiannon and Byron, because they were young and would bounce back a lot quicker than I would. I tried to bury my fear down even deeper—what would I do? How would I continue paying the mortgage? How could I help Trey pay for college? But it kept bobbing to the surface, leaving an oil-spill residue of anxiety.
Nervous, Jackie and I both checked the time on our phones. “Let’s get it over with,” she said.
We climbed the stairs to Guh, our footsteps heavy with foreboding. I’d worked for Giacomo for seventeen years. Nearly Trey’s entire life. Would getting the boot ruin me? I thought of the garden, of Lukas’s insincere promise that opportunities would abound. Maybe I’d make my own opportunities. Maybe . . .
When we stepped in the office, Byron, Rhiannon, and Glynnis were already at their workstations, saucer eyed. They pointed to the chair where Seth usually sat. An opened envelope, torn in half, rested on the keyboard.
“He’s gone,” Glynnis said, pink cheeked, likely embarrassed by the relief in her voice. “But he didn’t go out the back door.”
“Good for him,” I said, but then my comment trailed off as I saw the pristine white envelope wedged into Jackie’s keyboard. With Seth gone, it didn’t take much to imagine what hers said. My mouth opened. “Oh, honey . . .”
She ran to her desk and snatched the envelope, clutching it to her heart instead of opening it. “No,” she said. “No way. I’m not leaving.”
“I’m sorry, Jackie,” Rhiannon said. She stood up and awkwardly attempted to offer a hug. “I really, really am.”
Jackie shook her off. She pushed her shoulders back and lifted her chin. “I said no. I don’t accept this.”
“I don’t know if you have a choice,” Glynnis said. “I’m so sorry.”
Jackie glanced at Lukas’s closed office door. “Hell if I don’t have a choice.”
She marched over to his office, and in a rare show of office solidarity, we all followed her. Jackie didn’t hesitate before knocking.
“I’m busy at the moment,” Lukas called out. Was that a Madonna-esque fake British accent I’d heard?
Jackie busted into his office anyway. We were at her heels. Adrenaline pulsed through my body with such force I felt light-headed. Jackie, red faced and determined, was nearly vibrating with energy. You can move mountains, I thought. Start pushing.
Jackie tossed the envelope on Lukas’s desk. “Big Frank would never have done this. Never.”
I winced. Don’t lead with that!
Lukas stood. “In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not Big Frank. We all agreed to this, Jackie.”
“I didn’t agree to anything.”
Lukas slowly picked up the envelope and held it out to Jackie. “If you’d opened this,” he said, “you’d have found a very generous severance check. I didn’t have to do that, but I’m thankful for the years of service to Guh—”
“Giacomo!” Jackie screeched. “It’s Giacomo. Always has been. It’s your name and birthright, but I’ve given my adult life to this company. I believe in it, I believed in your dad, and I even believed in you! Don’t do this.” She paused to collect herself. “Please, Lukas.”
Indecision flickered over his Big Frank–like features. Lukas took us in, standing behind Jackie. I had put one hand on her shoulder, and Rhiannon had done the same on the other. We were a force to be reckoned with. A beleaguered but energized foe.
Lukas took a deep breath. “I don’t believe Petra would approve.”
“Petra says we should embrace failure,” Byron piped in. “Wouldn’t keeping Jackie on best illustrate that principle?”
Byron’s smooth baritone delivery made Lukas take notice. Glynnis practically swooned. “He’s right,” she said in a whisper.
Lukas pondered this for one excruciating moment. “I suppose re-adding Jackie to the mix would make the next contest all the more of a challenge. Petra does discuss the nature of competition more comprehensively in chapter 5.” He held up the white envelope. “Upping competition should add an element of risk. You are welcomed warmly back to Guh, Jackie. However, if you lose the next contest, there will be no severance. Do you accept that term?”
I could feel Jackie trembling beneath my hand. I wanted to squeeze her shoulder, but would she take that as encouragement to accept Lukas’s offer? I wasn’t sure what she should do. How much risk was too much?
“I accept,” she said.
Lukas nodded. “That goes for everyone. There will be no severance for whoever loses the next challenge. I’ll have our lawyer draw up a legal document. I’ll expect you all to sign it.”
That was our cue to leave. We filed out, subdued with worry.
“Paige,” Jackie murmured in my ear. “Will you go with me to the bathroom? I think I might be sick.”