Page 139 of Love Undiscovered
“I’d rather you not get emotional about it,” Stephen says.
“I’m not emotional. I’m pissed. You can’t do this, Stephen. I’ve worked hard on this. For over a year. It’s my idea, my theorems, my tests, and my results.”
“I can. And I did.”
“Okay. Well. My name is already in the program.”
“As second chair,” he says.
“What?”
“Remi, please understand that information such as this, important data, is better received when delivered by someone more... commanding when on stage.”
“Commanding? You think the twerp is commanding? He’s five feet tall. He breathes too heavy through his nose. He can’t even make it through an entire sentence without doing some kind of noisy exhale. He isn’t commanding. He doesn’t inspire confidence in what he’s saying. If anything, he’s going to make people doubt my finding. What do you even mean by commanding? My God, I can’t believe this. You’ve never seen me on stage, Stephen, you have no idea what kind of presence I have when I speak.”
“I can see that you are quite upset now, however. And we definitely can’t have that. You are exactly right, I don’t know what kind of presence you have when you speak in public. Whereas Donaldson has a lot of experience with presentations. I know exactly what to expect. His name is respected in this industry.”
“His father’s name you mean. He hasn’t done anything on his own to warrant respect.”
“Remi, please—”
“He doesn’t even know my study. Or my findings. He knows nothing about what I plan to present.”
“I’ve provided him with a copy.”
“Of my study? My presentation? The copies that I gave to you?”
He nods, I’m assuming his answer to all questions, then takes a drink of his white wine. Which I’m guessing is Pinot Grigio or something equally emasculating. I look down at the napkin I’m shredding on the table and move to cover the pieces under my palm. I don’t want him to see that I’m this undone. But, I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around the fact that he’s doing this.
The waitress appears. “Can I get you something to drink?” she asks looking at me as she lays down a fresh napkin.
“Vodka martini. Dirty. Three olives. Please.”
Stephen declines anything more, so she leaves to put in my order. I can’t believe that in the time it took to sit down in the bar before my order was even taken, he obliterated my world. And there’s not much I can do about it.
“What do I have to do to change your mind? I’ll do anything. Just say it. I need this.” I say, as I slowly move shredded napkin pieces under my fresh one.
He chokes slightly, then clears his throat. “Is that a… are you… is that a proposition, Ms. Vargas? Because I’m sure I don’t have to—”
“What? Are you kidding me? Gross. No. I meant work wise? My God. What is it with you guys?”
“I’m not sure—”
“Would you have asked that same question to Donaldson?” I ask.
“I don’t see where that is—”
“Sexist?”
“I was going to say relevant,” he says.
“Un-fucking-believable.”
“Remi, please calm down. You are a good engineer, you just aren’t—”
“Taken seriously apparently.”
“Well, since you brought it up, it can be hard to take you seriously at times.”
