Digging In: A Novel(39)

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 . . .”