Chapter 15: Chapter Fifteen

RAE

“Taylor’s making us attend the company-wide meeting,” Shawn informs me over morning coffee.

I grimace. “She probably wants pictures of the auditorium with everyone in it.”

He nods. “Company connectivity. I’m supposed to copy down quotes we can use for Insta captions.”

Logan and his father are speaking at the ten o’clock meeting. I have a feeling it’s when they’re going to announce the leadership change. Definitely not an ideal location for Instagram photos.

I would have thought that Taylor and the C-suite would already know, but it’s a small company. Maybe word travels fast, so Logan and his father kept it between themselves.

Shawn and I file into the auditorium among the stragglers at nine fifty-eight. I leave him with his notebook and walk the aisle, trying to snap a few broad shots of the audience.

They could come in handy for a look-how-corporate-we-are post. I receive a few dirty looks and turn bright red, but it’s dim as hell in here, so I suppose it doesn’t matter.

I return to Shawn when Logan and his dad settle onto the armchairs set awkwardly (not that I’m one to talk) on the stage. As I watch, my stomach ties itself into an intricate knot. I can’t photograph this.

I can’t. Even all the way in the back, I see the pain in Logan’s eyes. I see the weariness in his dad’s too. This isn’t something to document.

A nail jabs into my side as Logan’s father thanks us all for attending. “Why aren’t you taking pictures?” Taylor hisses. “You’re not getting paid to sit around and drool.”

“I’m… I’m…,” I start.

“Take some goddamn photos, or we’re cutting the contract short.”

Time freezes. Logan and his dad are talking on stage. The audience laughs a little. I don’t catch a word. Shawn nudges me. I stumble forward and aim.

One photo. That’s all I need. One photo. ~Breathe in, breathe~ ~out~.

I take the shot.

Every head in the auditorium whips around to glare at me. Logan’s dad wears the angriest expression of them all.

I understand why, because my ears start functioning again, and I hear the end of the sentence I interrupted with my flash. “…diagnosis, Logan will be stepping up as CEO.”

Mr. Quincy grits his teeth. “It’s unbelievable that I have to say this, but I need you to refrain from flash photography during this difficult moment.”

I’m still frozen when Shawn pulls me back into my seat. I don’t hear another word of the conversation between Logan and his dad.

They continue speaking for another twenty minutes, and not a single sound makes its way into my ears.

I only regain my sense of hearing when the crowd leaves the auditorium. I stand up, desperate to be anywhere else, but Shawn takes hold of my elbow and tugs.

He has better social skills, so I let him. That, and Taylor disappeared somewhere. If she were still here, social norms be damned, I would have sprinted outside.

Within a few minutes, Shawn and I are the only ones still in here, but he still speaks in a whisper. “You need to report her. She had to have known what they were going to announce. That’s beyond fucked up.”

I open my mouth to tell him that I’ll talk to Caroline, but my vocal cords aren’t cooperating. All that comes out is a loud, inhuman sob. I sound like a white walker ready to lead an army of zombies into battle.

“Oh, Rae.”

I sob into Shawn’s shoulder. He pats my back, and I sob louder, my cries echoing like the world’s worst opera.

“Excuse me? The cleaning crew needs you to clear out, please,” a woman says. She’s biting her lip as if she feels bad for interrupting my cry-fest. Her discomfort just makes me want to bawl even harder. It’s not her fault.

All I can manage is a shaky nod. I let Shawn guide me by my elbow again. Just when I get the hang of walking, I smack into him. He’s frozen in place.

Because we’re standing in front of Logan, Taylor, and Mr. Quincy.

“Are you the photographer?” Mr. Quincy barks. There’s ~so much~ hatred in his eyes, and I understand. I would hate me too.

“Yes,” I whisper. I swallow another sob. “I’m so sorry.”

He scoffs. He says something else, but I don’t hear, because I’m looking into Logan’s eyes, and they’re flashing, burning into me, digging holes where his gaze touches.

“Huh?” Mr. Quincy demands. “Are you listening to me?”

“I’m… I’m…”

“I said, pack your things. Go. Now.”

“Sorry,” I whisper.

“Shawn, stay behind, please,” Taylor calls. “I need to discuss the approach we’ll be taking with the new photographer.”

Shawn does as he’s told. I climb the stairs slowly, a decision I regret when I remember that the stairwell is on the opposite side of the floor from my desk.

Not that it matters, I guess. I’ll never see any of these people again.

Thank God for that, because their glares hurt. I’m on fire. I’m on fire—~because~ I’m fired. The stares pierce the walls of my cubicle. I’m going to walk out of here with singe marks.

I’ll need to call Caroline, but first, I’m going home. I keep my eyes on the ground, only allowing them to dart upward when I’m about to crash into someone.

Luckily, that only happens twice. Unluckily, the second person is Logan. He holds my eyes for a moment before shaking his head slightly and striding into his office. The door slams.

I take fifteen flights of stairs down. By the time I hit the foyer, my Uber is here. I lie and tell the driver I’m okay when he asks. He definitely doesn’t believe me, but he doesn’t press, so I tip him double the fare.

Zoe doesn’t come home until after five. It’s eleven o’clock seven. I’m okay with the apartment silent and empty. I don’t want anyone, even my best friend, to overhear the disaster of a phone call I’m about to make.

“You’ve reached the voicemailbox of Caroline Nguyen. Please leave a message after the tone.”

It beeps, and I ramble. “Hi, Caroline. This is—” ~Sniffle~ “—Rae. Rae Olson. I, uh, I need to talk to you about something from work today. I don’t know if you already heard…

“You’re probably really upset. I’m so sorry. I can explain. There’s a good—well, it’s not good—but there’s an explanation. I didn’t want to… I’m sorry. Can you just please call me when you—”

“Rae?”

I full-out burst into tears when Caroline answers, and she has to repeat my name a couple of times before I choke out the story.

“Alright, Rae. You need to take a deep breath.”

It takes me a few tries, but I do.

“Good job. You’re not fired. You’re an incredible photographer, and you didn’t do anything wrong. I don’t know if you’ll be going back to Quincy Ventures, but regardless, you are not fired.”

“Thanks, Caroline,” I whisper.

“Of course. Take the rest of the day. I’ll call you this afternoon with what we want to do next.”

“Thanks,” I whisper. Again. I’m not capable of much else.

“Keep your chin up, Rae. This sort of stuff happens in the workplace from time to time. Remind me to tell you about my tenure as an investment banking intern when we talk later.”

I laugh a tiny, tiny bit. “Okay. I’ll remember. Thanks again.”

“You got it, Rae. If I get caught up in something and you don’t hear from me, don’t worry. You’re not fired.”

I hate that Caroline needed to clarify that I shouldn’t interpret not receiving a call as a you’re-fired. I hate that my weakness and insecurity is so glaringly obvious. “Thanks,” I whisper again.

I set my phone down, and the sobs come once again.