Page 55 of Live Love Steal
The line of Sketch’s mouth went up on one end. He saw what I was doing. By naming the value of the account, I’d effectively neutered Sharon’s theory that I was one of the club girls.
“Yes, I used to be one of the creative team leads, but branched into the marketing division because…” Because the salary was much better. The work wasn’t as fun as before, but it was a challenge. And backing down from a challenge wasn’t me. I’d conquer this career and soar. Or so I hoped, as long as I could avoid getting sabotaged by my Jamie. “Because there is more growth potential in that field.”
God, that was a sell-out answer. I winced internally, but kept my presentation face on. No one needed to know my insecurities.
“Dad is an artist. I’m going to be just like him when I grow up.” He looked up at Sketch and practically glowed. The weariness in Sketch’s face eased.
“You’re going to be better than I am.” He kissed his hair.
“There’s no money in art,” Sharon interjected, squishing her child’s dreams with her negativity. I wanted to throttle her. Sketch’s face turned darker as he held in his emotions.
Neither of he or Noah deserved that barb. “I’ve seen your Dad’s work.” It struck me, I’d seen Noah’s work too. Sketch kept it displayed in his art room. I’d discovered that while snooping around and building up the nerve to strip naked this afternoon. “And yours, too. It’s really good. Your dad is right. And as far as money goes?—”
“You had her at the house?”
Whoops. Sharon didn’t need to know that. The evil core of me wanted to crow, “I was there for multiple hours straight, and in his bed for at least three of those hours!” But I kept my mouth shut, because, one, Noah didn’t need to know any of that, and two, bragging about having sex wasn’t me.
Sketch ignored her question and stroked his son’s head, which moved him closer to his chest. It was obvious he loved his son. “What did the doctor say?”
“I don’t know,” Sharon fired off, still sending me an evil glare.
“Weren’t you paying attention?”
Whether Sketch did that to shift her focus off me, or if he wasn’t thinking about what he said, he’d made a terrible error. Because she turned all of her hate on him. “If you weren’t playing house with this tramp, maybe you’d have been here and know for yourself. I told you he was sick. You never make time for him.”
“I—”
She cut him off, “It’s always me doing all the work. Cleaning up puke, helping him with homework, so he doesn’t end up at a dead-end job or become a criminal like you!”
Holy crap. I wondered for a moment how well she knew Sketch. Probably better than I did, seeing as they used to be married. Even so, low blow.
“If you really cared about him, you’d quit that club, get a real job, and stop pretending you’re fifteen all the time.”
Sketch stood up and tucked Noah back under a blanket the hospital provided.
“That club pays for his insurance and the copays and?—”
“They’re trouble. You’re going to get arrested one of these days.”
He’d almost gotten arrested tonight with me. He definitely didn’t need to hear her monologue about it. I put the laptop back in the bag. “That’s enough! Your son is sick, and you’re making it out to be David’s fault. If you did as much fucking work taking care of your son as you claim, he’d be healthy right now, wouldn’t he?”
“Shut up, bitch! This isn’t about you. Take your little acting role somewhere else and leave my family alone!”
As an outsider, I saw what was happening here. Sharon was a selfish narcissist, just like my boss. He liked being the center of attention, despite being the dumbest person in the room. And when he wasn’t the star of the show, he lashed out at whoever outshone him or corrected him. I was sick of him and anyone like him making others miserable. And the best way to make a narcissist miserable was to alienate them. Ghost them… gray zone them… give them nothing, while keeping a strict ledger of inconsistencies so they didn’t bury you for it. It wasn’t a guaranteed tactic, but one I’d done my damndest to incorporate at work. I’d forgotten that and stuck my foot in it.
Sketch’s voice was very quiet as he addressed Sharon, “You and me, outside. Iz, stay.”
Fine.
I got my laptop back out and typed up a summary for the owner of the company, just in case tomorrow went sideways. I’d forgotten to do that earlier. I attached my brief, the campaign options, and the one-sheet summary of the pitch.
“Can I see what you’re doing?” Noah asked.
His mother and father’s voices weren’t raised, but there was a tense staccato embedded into the tones. Noah looked worried. And he was smart enough to want a distraction.
“Of course.” I moved to the chair Sharon had sat in and turned my laptop around so he could see the PDF file with the campaign content. I explained each chart and the marketing concepts, getting a chance to drill down into the details I’d collected for the company. I needed the refresher before tomorrow.
Noah was more interested in how the creative team came up with the images. I showed him a few early mock-ups, and then I asked if he wanted to try to come up with a concept.
