The Frame-Up (The Golden Arrow #1)(18)
“Are too sweet. Yes, I know. Have a good day at work, pumpkin.” He throws me a look that says he’s apologetic about cutting me off, but then, to add insult to injury, he gives Andy a conspirator’s smile. “I’m sorry she’s late. Completely my fault.”
The peanut gallery . . . no, my bosses titter.
Andy seems at a loss for words. “Um, yes, well, collect your things for the meeting, MG, and we’ll see you inside.” He hesitates, then winks at me. The group of executives, led by Casey Junior, heads toward the boardroom amid laughing and storytelling at my expense. My reputation is burning up and crashing to the surface like the USS Enterprise on Veridian III.
My fury from my morning implodes—detonation starting in T minus two seconds. OHT called me honey. In front of my boss. And pumpkin. And what the hell, also insinuated again that he and I are dating. No. More than dating. My mouth flaps open and shut. There are literally so many words I want to spew, they’re stuck in the back of my throat. This man has cut me off for the last time. “The hell are you doing coming into my work?”
Matteo leans in while I wind up for the pitch and gives me a hug. His lips graze the sensitive spot just under my earlobe as he mutters, “You and I need to talk. It’s important. I did try to call you.”
I shove him backward. “I don’t answer my phone, and you didn’t need to make my bosses think I was late because we were . . . you know,” I hiss back.
Matteo thinks a moment, and I can tell he’s replaying the conversation in his head. The skin around his collar grows blotchy. “Okay. Maybe I could have chosen better words—much better words. I didn’t mean to undermine you. I’m sorry. I don’t usually have to contact our consultants like this, but it’s time sensitive. I brought a peace offering?” He hands me a steaming-hot paper cup. I smell cinnamon. Damn this man and his knowledge of my weakness. My hand reaches out and takes the cup automatically. “If it’s okay, I’ll pick you up for lunch? We can talk then.”
“No.”
“I really think you’ll be interested in what I have to say.”
I hesitate. And finally nod my head. Then he gives me a wink and squeezes my elbow before amping up his voice. The man could be a damn actor. “Go get ’em, tiger.” He gives Simon and Kyle a mock salute and walks back out the door.
Kyle and Simon have matching grins spreading across their faces. I am now the butt of every joke I never wanted to be a part of.
“I’ll be ready in five minutes,” I snap. And damn if I don’t hear one of them laugh as I bolt down the hallway to the elevator.
Once the jokes die down, the meeting starts out well enough. Kyle, Simon, Andy, and I present green-light ideas for the smaller comic series we write individually. My pet project, Hero Girls, is the bestselling girls’ comic book on the market. Unfortunately for me, comics aimed directly at tween girls make up the lower portion of the sales chart, a fact Edward Casey Junior brings up twice during my eloquent, insult-free speech. I’ve practiced my approach tirelessly. I’m not going to screw up this time; I’m as complimentary and politically correct as I can manage—the very epitome of what an art director at a major company should be. My presentation turns into a conversation about reducing my time on Hero Girls in favor of Kyle’s more lucrative project while I lobby that the only way girls’ comics will gain market share is to present more of them with relevant social topics. In the end, my brilliant idea for an offshoot limited-run graphic novel about origin stories is completely shot down. I avoided using the word “douchenozzle,” which was on the tip of my tongue, and I deserve a damn Tony for that performance. But this is what being a leader is, right? Sure, sometimes I get a tad combative about my ideas because I’m passionate, but this morning it can hardly be considered my fault. Yet I refrained. I won this round . . . well, not really won but avoided catastrophe. And the next part of the meeting is what will make it or break it for me. I’ve groomed the Hooded Falcon idea just for Casey, and I am sure he is going to love my historic reboot.
I tuck the Hero Girls pages back into my folder, deflated but not surprised. Casey Junior has hated Hero Girls since the beginning. The only reason he lets me keep working on it is the interest Netflix has in a possible TV spin-off. I leaf through the pages and catch sight of the Hooded Falcon sketch. It’s gritty, loose in all the right ways. It shows action, and it uses many of the vintage stylings for text and action tags. It’s the perfect cross of the modern hero and all that makes vintage comics popular. My heart lifts again. This is the idea I had while talking to Matteo, and my gut says that it’s going to put me on the board.
It’s still drizzling outside, and I fight to keep my mind on the meeting. It’s the kind of day when I like to curl up and daydream plot ideas or sketch costumes, but this morning’s encounter with Matteo has me rattled. I keep thinking about his voice in my ear instead of focusing on the single most important meeting I’ve had in a long time. It’s unlike me. Instead, I fill my head with possible story lines for my historic reboot. Maybe I’ll pitch a few to show Casey Junior just how prepared I am. To show him how dedicated I am. My mind runs down a rabbit trail of stories, and I scribble madly on the side of my notes, nearly cackling with personal pleasure at the sheer genius I’m channeling at the moment.
It takes a moment of silence around the table to draw my attention back to Andy. He’s stopped talking, and everyone is staring expectantly at me. My brain flies into overdrive, and I try to piece together the last words I heard.