I nod, steeling myself once more, shoulders squared. "I'm going to get my job back. No matter what it takes."
He smiles and leans in to kiss my lips, just once, feather-soft and light, a kiss that's there and gone again before I have time to blink. "You will. You're incredible, Clove. If anyone can talk your boss into having you back in the office, it's you. And if you need me to come in and testify about it, explain that it was all this psycho … "
I laugh, shaking my head. "Somehow I don't think that would help. If you tried to explain that it's all a big misunderstanding, someone stole my sext to you … " I raise an eyebrow pointedly.
He grins in response, and leans down to kiss me one last time before the doors open. "Well, I offered."
"You did. I'll keep that in mind when I've finished winning my case."
"Good luck," he says, offering me a hand as I step out of the elevator. I take it, and twine my fingers through his, squeezing tightly just once for affirmation.
"You too," I tell him, pouring every ounce of feeling into my tone that I can. I hope he can do this. I hope he can talk his ex down. I hope it won't hurt him too much to be around her, to have all those old memories drug up. I hope she stops coming after him, leaves him alone to live a normal life.
I hope a lot of things today.
Time to start acting, at least on the ones I can affect.
I square my shoulders and cast Zayne one last long smile, then stride out through the glass doors of our apartment building to face the coming storm.
"And you want me to tell the board this?" My boss stares at me across the desk, hands folded on top, leaning forward just far enough that I can see the wrinkles at the edges of her eyes, the corners of her mouth. Normally she's a cheery person, always smiling and laughing. Even when we do our annual performance reviews, she's happy, complimenting me on my work and cheerfully explaining any areas that she thinks I should work on in the coming year.
It feels strange to see her frown, especially this much.
"If you think it would help," I say, "sure. But either way, I wanted you to know exactly what's going on. I want you to know that this isn't who I am, who I ever would be in my professional life." I'd just finished explaining the entire saga to her, starting from the point where my doorman saved my ass, all the way up through the awkward part where I shared one risqué but entirely consensual photo with him, and to the part where his psycho ex creepily hacked into all of his accounts and took it upon herself to make an example of me. All for daring to date a guy who dumped this girl years ago.
My boss sighs and rubs a temple with one finger, massaging it in slow circles. "I don't know that sharing this level of detail with our higher-ups would help, Clove."
"Then don't." I bite my lip. "Can we just explain that we found out who made the website, and we're working on getting it removed? And that I've never done anything like this before and never would in the future." I don't need to send Zayne naughty photos anymore-he can see what I've got to share in person. I've learned my lesson about putting myself at risk, even with someone I trust.
I square my shoulders, rest my new purse on the table between us, and pull out some charts that I made late last night, as I lay in bed with the worst case of insomnia I've ever battled.
"In the meantime, I think this might help convince them that I'm worth keeping around." I spread the charts on the table. One of them is my projects' performances for this full year. I had the one disappointing campaign, true, and the fact that it happened right before this whole mess kicked off isn't helping me, I'm sure. But that was one mediocre campaign in a heap of really successful ones. I point out the growth in all the areas I've been marketing, along with the results of my last few experimental campaigns, one of which was entirely my idea and generated a ton of revenue from an untapped stream for the whole company.
Next, I draw out another series of charts that I made. Ones to explain how much more useful I'd be if I were able to start working on relaunching the failed campaign from last week. I put together a whole new strategy and an estimated schedule of how quickly I'd be able to make up for the lost time and investments in that campaign.
"Just give me a chance," I tell her. "And I'll make it worth your while. The board can keep reviewing the case, decide later what they want to do about me, if they can keep me on or not. But in the meantime, let me help you. Let me keep doing my job. Please." I lock eyes with Stacy. "I need this. Not the money, just the … The activity, the job itself. I need to have something to do. It's been just a few days and I'm already going stir-crazy."
She sighs. "I know this job means a lot to you, Clove. And you're right, you've always been a highly valuable member of our team … "
"So let me come back. Please."
"It's not up to me. If it were, you would never have been asked to leave at all." Stacy purses her mouth, her fingers dancing over the desk phone beside her, as she considers. "But you're right. This is crazy, to keep you out of the office. Especially if you're sure there won't be any more leaks like this. And if you already know who this is, we can file a lawsuit against them-this person hacked into our company servers too, you know. They sent spam messages about that website and your … ah, image. To our clients. We'll press charges."
My heart leaps at the same time my stomach twists. Will Zayne want that? He said he'd warn his ex, not straight up sue her. But then again, if she's done all this to me, how much has she tortured other girls in his life? All for simply existing?
I can feel myself nodding. "I agree," I say. "We're going to confront her, but either way … She can't feel free to do this again. She can't keep ruining people's lives like this."
My boss extends a hand. I lift mine, clasp her fingers in a single tight handshake. "Deal," she says, and I'm surprised to find that after all this, we're both smiling.
So there's one problem down. Here's hoping the rest fall into place just as easily.
12
Success, I text Zayne on the train home. Just to his real phone number now, having learned my lesson about trusting app accounts. How about you?
I don't want to admit how nervous I am to hear back. How much my heart sticks in my throat until my phone finally dings, and I can flip it open to see the reply.
Went as well as it could have. Which is to say, not great. But I think she took me seriously. I think she'll really stop this time.
Good, I reply. Then I bite the inside of my lip. I have to tell him. Because we need to talk about something that came up in my meeting …
I text Zayne from the train to meet me outside our building. It's his day off, which is good, since he looks like he slept on a floor all night and then spent the last hour arguing with a psychotic ex.
"Coffee shop?" he asks before I can even open my mouth to suggest it. I shoot him a grateful sideways smile and we head off toward what's quickly becoming our spot. Somewhere along the way, he loops his hand through mine, and I squeeze his fingers tightly, enjoying the warmth of his grip, the steadiness of his support.
"So," he starts as we step into the warm, reassuringly coffee-scented air of the corner coffee shop where we had our first date. "Tell me what happened."
"I need caffeine first," I protest. Like a mind-reader, he's already in line. He orders for us both, and I notice with a little secret thrill that he remembered my order from last time. He already knows how I like my coffee. How many guys would notice that, let alone remember it?
We take a seat at the back, the same one where we sat last time, and I blow on my latte while he takes small sips of his tall black coffee.
"You made it sound like bad news," he finally says, when the silence has stretched on too long.
"It's not. It's just … Complicated news," I reply.
He lifts his eyebrows, expectant. Waiting for me to explain.
It doesn't take more than that to get me to spill. I launch into the full story, from the moment I first told my boss everything, up to her proposal. "I don't know how you'd feel about it; I know you wanted to warn her, give her a chance to back off, but she hacked corporate servers, Zayne … "
"I know." He grimaces and blows on his coffee absently, before taking another long gulp. "But you're right. She's broken laws at this point. I can't protect her from herself. It was her choice to hack your company, use that against you. She'd already gone way too far with taking that photo and putting it out in the world, she didn't have to try and ruin your career along with it." He scowls and shakes his head so hard that a lock of his blond hair falls across his forehead. I fight the urge to reach out and brush it back. That's fast becoming a habit already.