Page 14 of Vows in Sin
One by one, I display photos of white-toothed teens smiling and lounging on rocks, with Rome in the background and the breeze from the Tyrrhenian Sea fluttering the casual linen they wear, a colorful bottle of PalmVolt cradled lovingly in their hands.
It’s absolutely everything Magda wanted for the campaign.
Nailed it!
I give myself a nod of approval. I take a deep breath. Here goes nothing. Pasting a smile on my face, I turn to face the group.
They stare intently at the photos, creases in their foreheads. I expected smiles, but I’m glad they’re taking this seriously. I guess? The air in the room feels strange, thick with tension.
I tell myself it’s just contemplation, that I’m going to blow them away.
Before I can begin my speech, a voice pierces the silent room.
“We can’t use these.” I scan the table for the owner of the voice. It belongs to the young man sitting to Magda’s right. The one wearing thick-framed glasses and rocking a K-pop haircut. Heshakes his head, his features twisting in a grimace as he looks at me. “We can’t use any of this.”
I take in the blank stares all directed my way. My confident, borderline cocky grin slowly slips from my face as A creeping wave of white heat travels toward my face, filling my stomach with nausea as it passes by.
“I don’t understand,” I manage to get out. “What do you mean?”
“Clark is right,” Magda says, her tone threaded with profound disappointment. “We can’t use any of this.” She shakes her head. Her cheeks pinken, like she’s embarrassed for me.
Why won’t her eyes meet mine? I try to get her to look at me. “Magda?”
“We can’t target teens,” she mumbles.
She still won’t look at me.
“I thought teensweremy target?” I squeak.
“No.” Staring past me, she blinks. Twice.
My stomach sinks like the cable cut in the glass elevator.
Oh god. This is terrible. It’s all gone wrong.
I have all the notes from my project, which are on my desk at my apartment. I was meticulous in my review of Magda’s requests, and that was before I evenstartedoutlining my ideas.
How did I get this wrong?
I’ve made the biggest mistake of my career.
I attempt to fix this disaster. “Aren’t teens the ones loading up on caffeine?”
“I thought I made this clear when we hired you,” Magda says. “PalmVolt is an adult beverage. We’re targeting the thirties crowd. Peak of their career, starting families, signing mortgages, attempting to have it all with no energy to do any of it.”
“Each 12-ounce bottle holds two servings of PalmVolt,” Clark says. “Each serving holds 200 milligrams of caffeine. The recommended dose for teens is a max of 100 milligrams per day.”
One bottle. 400 mg of caffeine. “That’s a lot.”
“Rrrrriiight.”Clark nods. “Which is why we’d never go after teens for PalmVolt.”
“I-I had no idea,” I stutter. “I don’t have kids. I’m not even sure I want them. Yes, I’d love a pair of small, well-behaved dogs one day, when I’m not having to take them down three flights of stairs to let them do their business, but I know nothing about kids' health.”
Oh god, I’m rambling. Am I rambling?
“My dear Seraphine. I held so much hope for you.” Magda, cold as ice, and finally able to look at me, points to the door. “We’ll no longer be requiring your services. Goodbye.”
And just like that, I’m dismissed.
