Page 2 of Mistlefoe
My opponent takes her sweet time firing up her laptop and arranging her things around it. She pushes a curl of dark hair behind her ear delicately, unbothered by my scrutiny. It was way easier to find flaws in the defense of an opposing hockey team than dealing with this woman. I’m sure she’s come armed with a plan to nab this job and normally, I wouldn’t give a shit about a one-time gig, except this isthebiggest event of the year.
And it comes with a healthy ten thousand dollar bonus for the organizer.
Last year, we also had a team meeting the week of Thanksgiving to decide who’d be running the event. It was going to be my first Christmas party at the company, so I decided to not put my name in the hat and bide my time.
Well, guess what? My time is now. I need that money. The hockey dreams of almost sixty kids are counting on it.
“Good morning, team,” Richard announces as he opens the door. He also brings a steaming mug, although this one is shaped like Santa’s head. Festive but a bit disturbing too. He takes a sip of Santa-brain juice and pauses at the head of the table. “Where’s Dave?”
Lewis is quick to respond. “Home sick.”
And Sierra’s even quicker to be helpful. “Oh, he must be joining online. I’ll hook us up to the room.”
“Excellent, Fernandez. Let’s get this party started.” Richard rubs his hands not because they’re cold, but in glee. “Get it?”
I do a masterful job of resisting the urge to cringe.
Richard finally begins the meeting after Dave’s hooked up to the room via Sierra’s laptop. “We all know why we’re gathered here. We’re officially a month away from the most wonderful time of the year—bonus season.” He laughs at his own joke.
I rub my hand across my mouth and beard, then adjust my glasses. I’ll laugh when I’m wiring the bonus money to the hockey arena so it doesn’t shut down in the new year.
In the background, Dave blows his nose loudly until Sierra presses the silence button.
“Anyway.” Richard clears his throat after no one really joined in his laughter. “Last year we had a major skiing extravaganza at Aspen, but I received a lot of complaints from people who travel for work all the time because the last thing they want to do is also travel again for the holidays. That’s why this year, I’ve decided to keep it local.”
I check Sierra’s expression from the corner of my eye and catch her inspecting me too. We both turn to our boss.
“Um, that poses a problem, sir,” she says with her hand raised like this is a classroom. “It’s not like our little town is too exciting during the holidays.”
Ah, yes. Mapleton, Connecticut, isn’t a sprawling metropolis. The small town’s main employer isSPORTY, and the only reason headquarters are still here is because this is where the founder started the first product line of baseballs over a hundred years ago. We’re close to New York but if Richard’s saying we have to keep it local, it also means that the Big Apple is out of the picture.
“Since when do we run from a challenge?” I add just to antagonize her. The gnashing of her teeth tells me I succeeded.
“That’s right, Mahoney.” Richard points at me. “This brief is meant to push your creativity. I want this year’s feedback to be that this was the best Christmas partySPORTYheadquarters has ever had in its history.”
I squirm, trying to contain the sudden rush of energy coursing through my veins. It feels very close to the seconds right before sliding onto the ice for a big game.
“Whoever brings the winning brief is guaranteed a ten thousand dollar bonus. But also…” We all lean forward, even the people who technically have no right to try this year. “A potential promotion.”
Promotions always come with a salary increase. I don’t need to be a math genius to know what that means. I lead a pretty cheap lifestyle, so any extra cash in my pocket will easily go to the maintenance costs of the kids’s hockey program.
I open my mouth to fire a random half-baked pitch before Sierra can.
CHAPTER 2
SIERRA
Funny enough, it’s not my biggest foe I have to watch out for right away.
“A concert!” Kaylee screeches so hard, her neck veins are about to pop. And it sets off pandemonium.
“Beyoncé!” Lewis, of course, joins in before she’s even done catching her breath.
I have a brief, abnormal moment of camaraderie with the enemy. Conor’s eyes meet mine and in them, I can see the same shock I’m feeling at the audacity of our coworkers. They had their turn and it’s not our fault Richard didn’t dangle a promotion in front of their faces when it was their respective chance to organize this thing.
Before Conor can recover, I bang my hands against the desk hard and bring all attention to me. More calmly, I say, “A fully immersive experience.”
Every pair of eyes not already on me turns my way.
