Page 4 of King of Wands

Chapter 2

The Empty Throne

After my workout I showered and changed in the locker room. Even though it was summer it was cool inside the building, so I wore my Braun-Evans approved white Oxford shirt with a black crewneck sweater over top. My slacks were black and my sensible one-inch heels were also...black. The lone pop of color came from my Braun-Evans red lanyard from which my badge hung. Today I was opting for my black-rimmed glasses. I used to hate wearing glasses but this pair made me feel pretty. They fit my face just right, like an accessory instead of a necessity. And trust me, corrective lenses were a necessity. I could see about two inches without them.

The stylist I was assigned to (Diane) actually liked my hair and makeup so it wasn’t much different from my usual routine. I blew it dry, ran a straightener over it to tame it, then pulled two pieces back from my face, securing it with bobby pins. Clean, flawless, and striking were the words Diane used to describe what she wanted from my makeup. My brows were to be waxed regularly and she recommended light liner and mascara, a blush, and neutral lipstick for workdays. I also had a palate for races, not that I planned on attending any.

The public relations office was one floor up. All the offices at the factory had wall-to-wall windows that let in tons of light. Yes, I still had to work in a cubicle, but at least it was in a cheery room filled with the very latest in technology. That was one of the cool things about racing. It was super technical and science was as important as the drivers.

“Glad you made it to work. I heard you were molested by an elliptical,” Richard Jones quipped as I logged into my computer.

“News of my death has been greatly exaggerated.” I liked Richard. He was one of the few managers who wasn’t a moron. Plus he was funny and had this quirky nerd look. He also spoke to me like I was smart instead of a “young, pretty thing.”

Those were the actual words used to describe both Jess and me by one of the department heads.

Ass.

“Welp, get to work. I need you in a meeting at ten.” He tapped my desk with the rolled up papers he held in his hand.

“A meeting?” I was usually handed a list of tasks to complete that day. Boring stuff like monitoring social media clicks and checking keyword searches.

“Youaremy resident consumer expert, aren’t you? It’s why we pay you the big bucks?”

Big bucks. Ha. As far as internships went it was actually pretty lucrative, but it was still an internship. It covered my food and travels expenses and not a whole lot else.

“I suppose—”

“No supposing,” he cut me off. “What was the first thing I taught you?”

“I’m an expert.” I said that like it hurt because it did. In his experience everything was bravado and faking it until you made it, whereas I was an academic. We didn’t fake things. We dealt in measurable results. Claiming to be something I wasn’t went against my DNA.

“Now say it like you actually mean it.” He sat on the edge of my desk, crossing his long legs.

“I...am...an...expert.”

He rolled his eyes. “Look, we hired you on for a reason, whether you believe it or not. Marcy is right. We are falling behind and we don’t have the expertise on our team that exists in your brain. So I don’t particularly care if you have a background in public relations. I am unimpressed with ordinary. You, Isa, are not ordinary. Today, more than ever, I need you. I just want you to listen. You don’t have to say a thing. Just...see what I’m working with. After the meeting if you have any thoughts that might be helpful, I’ll listen.” Then he popped me on the top of my head with the papers and walked away. “Ten o’clock Dr. Evil!”

Jess suddenly appeared from the other side of the cubicle. “Who’s having the best day ever? Isabel Yates!”

I groaned. It didn’t feel like the best day ever. It felt like one accident after another. A snowball rolling down the side of a mountain, picking up speed and size, and I was the poor sap standing at the bottom about to be unknowingly squished like a bug. “Do you ever feel like you must be asleep in your bed still dreaming?”

“You’re not dreaming.”

“But how do you know? If I were dreaming then my subconscious wouldn’t admit that it was dreaming. Ouch!” A large ball of paper hit me between the eyes.

“See? You aren’t dreaming, Dr. Evil.”

Richard nicknamed everyone. Jess was Purple People Eater because she loved to wear purple and told everyone exactly what she thought of them. I was Dr. Evil because he’d decided I was his secret weapon and I was working on my graduate degree in anthropology with dreams of completing my PhD in record time.

I picked the paper up and threw it back at her. “What’s the meeting about anyway?”

“I heard they’re reworking their social media presence and want to give the brand a little facelift.”

“Mid season?” Further proof the management was incompetent. They should have started the season with set goals and a message they continuously pushed to their fans. Instead their Twitter and Instagram account managers consistently made irrelevant posts. In short, Braun-Evans was getting its ass whooped. To be successful in racing you needed two excellent drivers, a factory filled with brilliant engineers, and for fans to love you.

Fans don’t love you if they don’t know what they’re loving.

“There’s a rumor Halifax is getting sacked.”