Taking the Lead(49)

Perfect. Marlon wouldn't want to make a scene. I glided to the front along the wall, still not attracting much attention in the dim room, and tapped him on the arm.

"Oh, Ricki!" he whispered. "So glad you could join us."

"Would it be all right if I take the mic for just a quick 'thanks for being here' after Jim wraps up?"

"Oh, of course! That would be terrific. I know you don't like the spotlight, so thank you so much for offering. Here, I'll introduce you." He stepped up onto the dais. 

"Any other questions, you can ask me later, or drop me an e-mail," Jim was saying. "You have the complete spreadsheets in your handouts as well."

Marlon took his place and leaned down to the mic. "Ladies and gentlemen, I'm going to deviate slightly from the agenda. I know we're due for a coffee break, but first, well, we have a special guest."

Schmitt, sitting only a few feet away, suddenly looked up and saw me. He looked away, quickly, his mouth in an unpleasant downward curl, fuming. That's right, I thought. You didn't think I'd defy you this openly, this brazenly.

"May I introduce, Ms. Ricki Hamilton."

I stepped carefully up onto the dais and then exchanged smiles and mutual arm-pats with Marlon as I took his place at the podium. I had no notes. I looked out over the sea of faces, most of them unfamiliar.

"Thank you. I won't take up too much of your time today. I just wanted to come here to say thank you, really, for being a part of CTC. I know my grandfather wasn't very hands-on with the company in the last years of his life, but this being the first shareholders meeting since his passing, I wanted to come and wave the family flag and tell you how proud I am that CTC continues to carry on the traditions that Cy espoused. What was it he used to say? You're not a star unless you're known 'Coast-to-Coast'? We still do a great job finding new talent and building great careers, not just in movies but in subsidiary properties, too. The media world is changing fast, not only because technology keeps changing, but because the world itself keeps changing. I'm confident in the ability of the CTC management team to ride the waves of change and keep CTC on top. That's it, really. I just wanted to say hi, and thanks."

I smiled. They applauded much more enthusiastically than I thought they should. But people clap when they see something they like, and they liked me and what I'd said, even if I hadn't said very much. Simple enough.

I stepped down and then people began getting out of their seats. Caterers had set out snacks and fruit and miniature sandwiches and I mingled throughout the short break, mostly accepting platitudes from people as they circulated.

Funny, while I was mingling, Schmitt and I never crossed paths. When it was time for the next session to start, I left.

And went to the ladies room where the nerves promptly hit. It was so odd. I hadn't been nervous at all while making my little speech. For the past week I'd done nothing but think it over, practice it in my head, to the exclusion of almost anything else. I had psyched myself up so well, I guess, that I didn't even remember to be nervous-not even when the PR head had said I didn't like the spotlight. But now that it was over, I felt a little shaky. Whew. I did it.

Of course, now that it was over, all the messy emotional stuff about Dad and everyone else in my life that I had been shoving to the back burner kept trying to boil over. I took a deep breath and closed myself in the stall at the very end of the row, the one with the sink inside so I could lean on it. Since coming back from rehab, Dad had been veering between overly emotional and seeming regret over being emotional, so I could never tell whether he was going to run hot or cold at a given moment.

I tried not to take his cold moments personally. It's hard to expose yourself emotionally, I would remind myself. He pulls back because he's afraid. Gwen and I were both trying to remind him it was worth his while to let his feelings out.

And what about you, Ricki? What about when you let your feelings out? Maybe I was more like my father than I had realized previously.

If so, then I definitely wasn't cut out for relationships, especially BDSM relationships, that relied on honesty and trust and terrifying things like that. Now that the speech to the shareholders was over, I could go back to trying to forget Axel.



       
         
       
        

You know how hard it is to forget someone like that? Someone you dream of, someone whose touch you can almost feel even when they're not with you, someone whose voice you can almost hear, each time you think about them? Trying to forget inevitably meant thinking about him. The only way not to was to distract myself with work.

Speaking of which, it was time to go to my actual job. Riggs took me home and I drove myself in, arriving just in time for the weekly development meeting.

After my triumphant appearance at the shareholders meeting, being back on the bottom rung at Blue Star was a bit depressing. Especially when at that development meeting I got to hear Grant Randolph put forth the idea that Blue Star's bottom line might be improved by "the occupation of the under-inhabited territory" he called "the female-centric market."

He used different words than I had but he was making the basic argument I'd given Meyers and floated in meetings more than once now. But I'd gotten nowhere.

By the end of the meeting, it looked like Grant was getting his own development team. As if that weren't bad enough, Meyers called me into his office shortly after the meeting ended.

I closed the door behind me and sat in the chair in front of his desk, trying to keep my temper under control. We glared at each other until he gave in.

"Obviously," he said with a conciliatory nod, "it would appear Randolph picked up the ball and ran with it."

"The ball you told me to drop," I said.

"I know. Well, you were right, it was a sound idea, and the data is there to prove it, or at least to prove that it isn't a stupid move to approve the pursuit of it, even if it ends up flopping."

"Did you ask me here to tell me I was right?"

"Yes and no." He had shaved and being clean-shaven made him look younger, if not any less world-weary. "Given your enthusiasm for the effort, Ricki, I believe you should join Grant's team."

"In what capacity?"

"I need you working directly under him."

I didn't bother to hide my skeptical look. "What do you mean by 'under'?"

"I mean reporting directly to him from now on and providing executive support."

That sounded like a living hell if ever I had heard of one. "In other words, you want me doing all the work to make sure this team succeeds while Grant gets all the credit."

"May I remind you that he has seniority? He's been here for years, Ricki, not months like you."

"That doesn't change the fact that this is monumentally unfair."

"I'm being realistic. If we want this female-centric initiative to succeed, one, we do need a woman on the team and you're the obvious choice for that, and two, Randolph has his strengths and his shortcomings and I know I need to pair him with someone who complements his shortcomings. He's a better visionary than executive. He's not detail-oriented." 

"That's all a fancy way of saying what I already said: you want me doing the work while Grant gets the accolades."

"This isn't about accolades." Meyers huffed impatiently. "Look, Ricki, I know it's not a perfect situation, but you'd get to push your agenda in terms of which films get made. From a PR standpoint, actually, it'd be important that you, the female on the team, be the mouthpiece. If you want me to add a PR title to your nameplate, I will." He dangled a carrot: "A title bump, even."

A promotion, he meant. I was not tempted. "So now you want me to be the spokesperson, and work on project development, and crunch the numbers, and wipe Grant's ass, but Grant will still be my boss?"

Meyers folded his arms. "Well, it would seem you inherited your grandfather's steamroller of a mouth. May I remind you this isn't the CTC shareholders meeting? You're not in charge here, Ricki."

"No, but maybe I should be. Meyers, you said you hired me because you wanted the best. Are you seriously telling me the reason you need the best is to compensate for the fact that Milton Randolph's nephew is incompetent?"

He cleared his throat. "Incompetent is a strong word."

I said nothing to retract it. "Yes, it is."

We stared at each other then, in a standoff.

He gave in and spoke first. "Well, let's give the idea some more thought before we commit to anything."

"Well, here's one more thing to think about: do this and you'll have my resignation."

He grimaced and shook his head. "Twenty-four years old, fresh MBA, and only on the payroll a few months? You can't play that game with me, Ricki Hamilton. I know you're bluffing."

"Am I?"

He gave me another of those calculating looks, and said in a "gotcha" tone of voice: "I know about the provision in Cy's will."

I sat perfectly still for a moment. That meant that Schmitt had told him. And it made me wonder if he'd hired me because I was "the best" after all. I got to my feet. "Then maybe it's best I resign right now, if the only reason you hired me was as a favor to a poor bereaved waif like myself."