Page 23 of The Vegas Rerun
No. I won’t do that to her. I won’t do that to myself. That’s it. I can stop thinking about this now. My decision is made and that’s that. I lock my emotions away.
Joshua will never know he has a daughter. And that’s the way it has to be. For all of us.
CHAPTER 17
MOLLY
The next boardmeeting looms ahead, and I can feel the nervous energy curling in my stomach. The last time I carried refreshments into that room, I made a fool of myself, spilling milk on one of the board members in front of everyone. I have no intention of repeating that disaster. I thought when I got this job that I would never have to do the refreshments thing again, that I was safe from the risk of embarrassing myself once more. But as it turned out, it was Margo’s job to do the refreshments, but each new secretary that works on the seventh floor takes a turn at it when they’re new so that they know what to do if Margo – or now me – is ever on vacation or sick leave when there’s a board meeting. Great.
I double check everything yet again before I even set foot in the boardroom for the final orders. I have the coffee orders written down, and I’ve arranged them on a hostess trolley that I found – which I think will make things easier than trying to balance the heavy tray - in precise order. Each cup corresponds to the person seated in that exact position around the table. I’ve gone over this in my head a dozen times. I will not mess this up. Irealize I’m probably complicating it, making it something bigger than it is, but that’s better than messing it up. I feel like once I’ve faced this and done it without bathing anyone in the process, I will be fine to do it again.
When I push open the door to the boardroom, the air is thick with discussion. Joshua sits at the head of the table, effortlessly commanding the room with his presence even though he isn’t the person currently speaking. He doesn’t glance my way, too focused on the speaker presenting a quarterly report. It’s a relief. The less attention on me, the better.
I quietly move to the two late comers and get their drinks orders, and then I slip back out of the boardroom and go back to the kitchen. My hands move quickly, automatically measuring out the right amount of sugar and milk for the final two cups. I place them carefully onto the trolley in the spaces that are left. I look at the trolley for a moment and frown. I’m sure the spaces were in different places when I left the kitchen. But it can’t have been. I have checked the order or the drinks so many times I feel like I’m going crazy with it. I’m not going to give into my paranoia. I know this is right.
I head back to the boardroom and slip inside once again. I roll the trolley over to the table.
I start with the man at Joshua’s right, his father, the one I soaked in milk last time. I want to get his out of the way and I manage to get his cup in front of him without any issues this time. I go to breathe a sigh of relief, but I hold myself back. I feel like doing that now would be tempting fate. When all the drinks are given out and everyone remains dry, then I can do it.
I go around the table placing each drink in front of its respective owner without a word except to acknowledge the thanks yous from the nicer members of the board. Everything is going smoothly. Too smoothly. A tiny part of me expects something to go wrong, but for once, it doesn’t.
Until it does. I guess fate wasn’t waiting for an invitation to have me fuck this up after all. She was already waiting to pounce.
I’m almost done with only the last few cups to give out when I notice something strange. A murmur of confusion ripples across the table as board members begin exchanging glances, the speaker momentarily ignored as the board members look down into their drinks.
"Is this decaf?" one of them asks me.
Before I can answer him, another one of them frowns down at his cup.
"I asked for mine black and this has cream in it," he snaps.
"Who put sugar in mine?" a third person is saying.
A cold dread trickles down my spine. No. This can’t be happening to me. This is impossible. I arranged the cups perfectly. I memorized the order, and I checked it dozens of times. This doesn’t make sense. The memory of the gaps seeming to have switched on the trolley flashes back into my mind, but I push it away. Imagining an office ghost messing up my trolley is the last thing I need right now. I guess I just have to accept that I can indeed fuck up the simplest of tasks.
I quickly glance at Joshua, who has remained silent so far. He picks up his own cup, takes a sip, then slowly sets it down. His face is unreadable, but I know. I’ve messed his up too and I make his several times daily. Fuck. I know it’s a cliché, but I want the ground to open up and swallow me. I feel like everyone in the room is staring at me with accusing eyes and I can feel myself going red with embarrassment. This isn’t a good look for me. As someone very pale, my embarrassment is very noticeable and it isn’t just my cheeks – it’s my neck, my ears, everything. And the more I think about it, the darker I flush.
"My apologies," I say quickly, my throat tight. "I must have mixed the cups up. Let me fix it."
I move as fast as I can, but the damage is already done. Some board members trade their drinks amongst themselves, others wave me off, clearly unimpressed. I want to disappear and at the same time, I want to tell them that I don’t understand how this happened, that I was so sure I had it right.
Joshua doesn’t say a word, but I catch the sharp glance he sends my way before he redirects his focus to the meeting. It’s worse than if he’d called me out on it then and there. Now I have to sit and wait for the axe to fall.
After the disastrous refreshments serving, I take the hostess trolley back to the storage room where I found it and then I return to my desk, my heart still hammering. I try my best to focus on my work, but I can’t help but keep thinking back to my awful moment. I know I’m in real trouble when Joshua comes back to his office and passes me without a word or even a quick smile.
I bury myself in emails, but it isn’t long until my fate catches up with me. The moment the door to Joshua’s office opens and he calls my name, I know I’m in for it. I force myself to look up and meet his eye.
“A word please,” he says and then he goes back into his office, leaving the door open for me.
I get up and move to the door. I take a breath, square my shoulders, and step inside. He’s seated behind his desk, a few loose papers in front of him, but his attention is entirely on me.
"Close the door," he says.
I do as he says and stand stiffly in front of his desk, clasping my hands together to keep them from trembling.
"I assume you know why I’ve called you in here?" he begins, his tone calm but firm, I nod my head, not trusting my voice to come out normal. "I need you to be able to handle these simple tasks without me having to micromanage you. Do you have any idea how embarrassing that was for me back there? "
His words sting more than they should, probably because I know he’s right. This was supposed to be easy. Something I could do without issue. And yet, I messed it up in front of the entire board. But as for knowing how embarrassing it was, I most definitely do, and I feel like it was more embarrassing for me than it was for him. I think better of saying that though. I don’t want to make him anymore angry than he already is.
