Christine

CHAPTER 2

  The meeting was long and by the end, Christine’s voice was starting to crackle and bare the wear of her nerves; being acted upon by her growing confidence and want to tear Devin from his rung, watching him wailing and waving as he fell past her on the way to his demotion.

  Christine had spoken the entire of the meeting, running through countless slides of graphs and bars and lines and numbers and statistics and green and blue were the colours she used the most and when she spoke, she hardened her voice, choosing shorter more abrasive and stabbing words, being more decisive, being more direct and believing in the presentation and the floating of her lie.

  “And we would like to thank you, for giving us this opportunity to present to you here today. I trust that your decision will best reflect the success that you have in business and I know that we can tailor the most affable solution for your needs and be the partner unto which dresses their service, product and attendance in quality, assurance, innovation and peace of mind. Thank you” she said as a round of light applause allowed her to return to her seat.

  The men in suits convened in a circular fashion, whispering and nodding and pointing and prodding at the documents before them; but mostly nodding. And for this, Christine sat with less worry, her stomach turning like an overworked mixer, piling her doubt and indecision on top of one other and mixing them with the tears she wished she were alone to shed.

  She looked to her right and beside her, Devin was seated with his hands behind his head, his elbows swinging back and forth in boyish glee while beside him, the directors and board members all watched the umming and ahhing of the gentlemen before them, waiting on every breath to let go of their own and either sigh a celebrative relief or extol a humbling defeat.

  “If you would like…” said Christine before being finger shushed by her CEO.

  The men in suits looked up from their negotiated whispers with concurring eyes.

  “We agree. Well done, fantastic presentation” said the other CEO.

  A roar of celebration met the awkward silence and broke the spell of nerves that were tossing and turning in Christine’s belly and each and everyone in the room bridged a sigh of relief, wiping the sweat from their palms before reaching for the shaking of hands.

  Christine felt a well of success tickle at her feet and she smiled with adverting pride, no longer able to maintain her casual reserve. She looked to Devin with a ‘we did it’ kind of grin and wink, and his unto her was of a colluding friend.

  “I told you,” said Devin, leaning in to Christine’s ear.

  Christine pulled herself from her chair and walked towards the three men with her hand extended towards the other CEO, expecting him to meet her overture and extend his own. But as she passed the side of the desk; past the window with the open shades that cast her every move to every eye which - followed her every step - and as she raised her nervous hand with her widening smile and her vanishing nerves, her path was stopped by Devin as he took the open hand of the other CEO, closing out the circle of men and leaving Christine with her extended hand dangling in midair to the acclaim of those watching her every step outside of the room.

  “Congratulations Devin,” the two CEOs said as they shook his hand firm and mechanic.

  “We will need to talk about your promotion,” said his CEO.

  Christine stood in still wonder.

  The sense of accomplishment that had choired in her blood and in her mind was now deafened by the clashing sound of her heart shattering like cheap glass into a thousand pieces. She felt naked and cheated, feeling a thousand eyes all looking at her in mockery, but she didn’t assume that role.

  Without the severance of much grace, Christine naturally rested her shaking hand against her friend’s back, defusing her jest with celebration; unable to break the circle, but taking her place by its side.

  “I can’t take complete credit,” said Devin.

  Christine kept her hand tight on his shoulder, squeezing roughly as some manly reward, expecting her just applause.

  “It’s your needs that inspire us to outdo our own potential and provide an ever evolving service, so thank you. Thank you” he said shaking the hand of the other CEO and garnering the affection of his own.

  “Let’s get some drinks to celebrate. I know a wonderful place nearby. Very chic. They have this whole fetish theme you will just love” he said in a lowish hush to the other CEO.

  The men all bellowed in a molesting type of laugh, the kind that creeped its way into Christine’s skin, having her want to wash herself immediately as if some stray dog were licking her neck on a summer’s day.

  And so she wore a pained smile with her hands trapped by her side while the group of men all lined as one and exited the room with Christine in tow, marching in their wake, with every eye once again on her every step, thinking as a general and less like the dunce that she imagined the every eye on her every step must certainly have been attesting her as being.

  In the limousine, Christine sat next to the driver, offering a little response to his probing questions. Every turn of the clock and every extra kilometer that clicked were like a wire turning on her heart and soul and the more it turned, the angrier she became, thinking in her mind of all the things that she wanted to say and wished she had the gall to do.

  The driver kept asking Christine about the men in the backseat and how much money she thought they probably earned and whether or not there were hookers in the backseat with them. And was that why she was sitting in the front? And why was she sitting in the front? And was she an assistant or was she a secretary? And what is the difference between the two? And did she like her job? And did she think they would be going to prostitutes? And why was she so uptight? And what the hell crawled up her arse? And there was no need to be sour puss; he was just trying to pass the time. And did she know that she thought like a man? And was she eating too much red meat? Because apparently it digested poorly and could block up her digestive system and that could cause stress and constipation and heart disease and cancer. And did she like Portishead? Because the singer was a girl and she was a girl too and give him a reason to be a woman, he just wants to be; a woman.

  “I just wanna be a woman, it’s all I wanna be” sang The Driver, horribly off key and somewhat confessional.

  The car stopped.

  Christine was the first to step out. She walked to the other CEO’s door and opened it before the driver could even manage to undo his buckle. Her hand extended to help him out and to address the congratulations of which had abated her.

  ‘Thanks, darling” said the CEO, taking her hand and when up and about, stuffing a ten dollar note in her open blouse.

  The two CEOs walked side by side into the bar through a large red door and into a dimly lit corridor; greeted at the door by a woman who wore little else other than a leather corset and knee high leather boots. The two CEOs took a menu from her hand and a kiss on their cheeks before disappearing into the sultry dark.

  The limousine then cleared of the other men from the meeting including Devin who was locked in heated debate with another man over the proper use of tweed and which girls at the office gave the best head.

  “Dev,” Christine said.

  Devin walked right past her with the other men and took a menu and a kiss on the cheek from the woman dressed in discipline and desire. Christine lowered her questioning hands, huffed away her frustration and walked towards the open red door. She smiled kindly, extending her hand to take a menu and join the other men inside.

  The woman slammed the door shut almost taking two of Christine’s fingers clean off.

  “Hey, what the hell?” yelled Christine.

  A small silver panel slid open.

  “I’m with those gentlemen” Christine said.

  “You’re not welcome here,” said The Woman in the Corset.

  “Give me one good reason” demanded Christine.

  “This is an executive bistro. There are rules. No exceptions.”

&nbs
p; “And what am I, an exception?’ asked Christine offended.

  “You’re a woman” replied The Woman in the Corset sliding the silver panel shut.