“Thank you. I like the direction you’re taking. Melanie, good job. Jay, can I speak with you for a moment?”
“Of course.” My heart was suddenly beating out of my chest.
Why did he want to talk to me alone? It made no sense. I turned toward Mel and made my eyes comically wide, clearly asking without speaking, What the fuck? She closed the door softly as I turned to face Peter, calming my facial features and hoping they were as expressionless as his.
“Good report, Jay. I’d like to offer one critique regarding the language in paragraph five, page two, however. Rather than saying that we are going to….”
There was a part of me that wondered if I looked half as incredulous as I felt. Was he really giving me shit about my placement of a fucking adverb? I gave myself points for being a good team member, nodding and murmuring words of agreement at his suggestions when what I really wanted to do was smack him with my notebook. What a pompous prick!
“Thank you, Jay. I’ll be meeting with you and Melanie again in the next week or so.”
Peter sat back at the conference table and turned his full attention to his laptop. I had been dismissed. I bit my lip to keep from saying anything I’d regret and exited the room, closing the door behind me.
“What did he want?” Mel was waiting for me outside of my office. She looked worried, which made me just a little more angry. Didn’t that jerk realize that pulling me aside like that could cause tension between Mel and me? No one wanted to be paired with someone who might potentially drown them, and I resented that I was going to have to assure my partner that it was just a minor grammar infraction he wanted to chat about.
I sat heavily in my chair and filled her in.
“Seriously? That’s weird.”
“I agree.”
“Hmm. Have you done something to piss him off?” Mel chewed on the side of her thumbnail.
“Mel, I’ve seen him as often as you. I don’t know the guy at all and have been with him a handful of times total in relation only to this project. I don’t get it either. But I have to tell you… he may be sinfully handsome, but he’s looking a lot less attractive to me right now than he did when we first walked into that room today!”
Mel gave me a lopsided grin in response. Maybe she was feeling the same way.
THE NEXT meeting took place nearly two weeks later. Peter had been called out of town on business, which delayed the next scheduled presentation Mel and I were set to deliver. I was equal parts annoyed and glad about the delay. However, when we finally did sit back down with him, it went almost exactly the way our previous meeting had. He listened without input, told us both we did a good job, thanked Mel, and asked to speak to me again alone. When Mel slipped out of the room with worry written all over her face, Peter drew my attention to paragraph three of page six. This time my expression must have given me away. He couldn’t be serious. This man was a highly respected lobbying guru. He had a great reputation in the field as a young up-and-comer. Was it really because he was a grammar fanatic? Hard to believe.
His Gucci suit fitting impeccably on his tall, muscular, and well-proportioned form could not save him from a loss of regard in my eyes. I went into that room instantly taken by his broad shoulders, dark hair, and classically handsome profile, only to leave the room an hour and a half later thinking the guy had to be high. Why was he singling me out like that? None of it made sense. Unless, of course it was because of something that had nothing to do with work in the first place…. Maybe I was doomed from the moment he overheard my shoe commentary when the project first began. Maybe Mr. Morgan had decided he didn’t care for me because I was gay. The sentiment sounded a bit paranoid, but I couldn’t help thinking I just might be correct.
AS WE neared the project’s completion at the end of March, the meetings included all eight of the original group Peter had first assembled, and they lasted all day. A light breakfast of croissants and coffee was served in the morning. We took a forty-five minute lunch break that most of us used to catch up on e-mails and phone calls, before returning for a marathon afternoon session. A light evening snack was brought in as presentation after presentation was given. Reports were made and charts and graphs were displayed until our eyes began to cross and it was obvious that no one was retaining a damn thing. That was when our great leader would finally set us free for the evening. Of course, since it was eight o’clock, most of us went home, grabbed a quick bite to eat, and passed out from exhaustion only to wake up at four thirty the next morning and start all over again.
It was positively miserable. I now hated this esteemed, exalted project. I no longer cared about solar energy or any other form of energy at all. How could I when I had none myself? Most of all, I hated Peter Morgan. Hated him. In a very short time, I had gone from infatuated and admiring to cringing at the sight of him. Don’t get me wrong, he was still as breathtakingly gorgeous as ever, but he only had to open his mouth and I found myself waiting for the criticism to start. It was a strange type of critique too. It was never malicious per se, it was just nitpicky, and it made me feel self-conscious as I wondered how my teammates viewed my professionalism. Mel seemed undeterred, but again, the seed was sown. I felt unworthy and paranoid that perhaps the negativity stemmed from prejudice on his part. I wanted this project over and done as soon as possible.