Page 59 of Submissive Lies

FOURTEEN

I was indulging myself in schadenfreude.

It wasn’t pretty, but I did it nonetheless. The balance of the afternoon passed slow and uneventful for us, but that was not the case for other booths nearby. There was barely contained chaos all around us. Our exhibit stood like an isolated oasis of calm in a sea of disarray, work going on at a frenetic pace. A self-satisfied smirk of pride pulled up the corners of my mouth as I sat at my table, feet propped up on a literature box, watching the other exhibitor’s struggles. I had been one of those exhibitors at previous shows and remembering that should have guilted me into stopping. It didn’t. I was happy, feeling a little cocky, and far too smug than I had a right to.

Our booth was in good shape, and I was pleased, and not solely for a job well done. I knew the salespeople would be here in an hour or so, and when they saw the booth was complete, I had little doubt word would get back to Loren. That would equal a happy boss, so what was not to be proud of? I laced fingers behind my head and grinned. Besides, I had my own special reward awaiting me as soon as I could get off the show floor, and thoughts of that were never far from my mind.

Thomas still hadn’t called. As the afternoon wore on, I went from fuming and flinging more of those mental Fuck You’s at him to just plain indifferent. I had no idea what he was trying to prove, but right now I could shit-care-less. This was a lawyer tactic. I knew it in my bones. He was upset about my not communicating with him before. He’d been hounding me about it for weeks, and this was his childish, passive aggressive way of letting me know that he didn’t like my attitude or the way I was handling whatever it was that was bugging me. I was confident he didn’t know why I wanted to talk, but I couldn’t believe he’d chosen now to pull this bullshit on me as a way of making his point. You don’t want to talk to me, Jen? Well, fine. I can play that game too. No response to my voicemails or my texts. And now that Loren had confirmed he was okay and had been at work, I knew he’d gotten them and wasn’t lying dead in the apartment or in some ditch somewhere. Nope. This was deliberate on his part, and while at first I’d been mad as hell, now I was just over it. A voice in the back of my head reminded me that what I wanted to talk to him about really wasn’t the kind of thing you left on a voicemail. And I hadn’t done that. I had held firm that if I wasn’t going to do this face-to-face, I was at least going to do it when we could actually speak to each other. But now? After this… crap he was pulling? I was sorely tempted to go against my sense of what was right—and my better judgement—and just leave him a voicemail.

Hey, Thomas. I’ve been trying to reach you, but you seem really intent on teaching me a lesson right now, and I’ve run out of time and patience, so here’s the thing. I’m not who you think I am. And I’m not the person you deserve. And we’re over.

Yeah, I wanted to say some really shitty things on top of that, but that would have been emotion talking. Instead, the best thing to do would be to just leave it at that. Explain that we were over, that I’d tried to speak to him but—

No. No, that wouldn’t be right. He deserved to hear it directly from me, not my disembodied voice left in a message. If for no other reason than it would allow him the chance to speak his peace. As much as it grated on nerves that were scraped raw at this point, I wouldn’t sink to just leaving him a Dear John voicemail. Even as angry as I was at Thomas at the moment, he was a good person who deserved better, and despite everything I’d done—and this little incident of his aside—I owed him the courtesy of speaking directly to him at a minimum.

I pushed it aside and out of my mind. As much as I could. Until the blood pressure wasn’t a throbbing drumbeat in my ears, and when I did think of it I wasn’t immediately reaching for my phone to leave him a piece of my mind.

It was just after 4:30 when I caught sight of the gaggle of salespeople trickling inside the booth. Getting up from the table, I brushed my hands over my clothing, straightening myself out. I scanned the faces of the people coming in, watching heads swivel as if on gimbals as they took in the exhibit. Several of them I recognized from previous shows, while others I did not. The latter were, I suspected, salespeople that had come over from the other company. As they clumped together in the center of the booth, I stepped across to them, putting my game face on.

“Hi! I’m Jennifer.” Hand extended as I approached, a few of the salespeople I knew smiled, recognizing me. One I knew by name—Andrew, a brand manager I’d worked with on several occasions—reached for my hand, shaking it in greeting.

“Jennifer. How are you? Last time I saw you was the ASTA Show in Dallas, right?”

“Andrew. Good to see you again! Yes, that’s right! I’m well, thank you.”

As further introductions continued, I did a quick headcount. 7 people total. My memory told me the number should be more. At least eight, maybe nine. I shrugged. Perhaps I was incorrect. That or someone was missing.

“Jennifer Boyd?” The person who spoke was another of the salespeople, one who I did not recognize. She was young, artificially bright, with that cheerfulness that seemed almost borderline manic. I gave her a polite smile as she introduced herself.

“I’m Tracy. You work with Loren, right? She’s your boss?”

“That’s right.”

“I love Loren! She’s been so much help during the transition!”

“Loren is the best.” I bobbed my head in confirmation, giving her a courteous nod.

“Oh, I wish Sam was here! She really wanted to meet you.”

“I’m sorry… Sam?” I crinkled my eyes, giving her a perplexed look. I didn’t recognize the name.

“Oh, right!” Tracy dipped her head in an energetic nod. “Sam. Samantha Davis. She’s my boss. She works out of your office now. You probably didn’t hear, but her flight was delayed. She won’t be here until later tonight. We were talking the other day and she mentioned your name. She was saying how much she was looking forward to finally meeting you.”

That confirmed my earlier suspicion that there was a person missing. I didn’t know this ‘Sam’, although I gathered from Tracy’s comment that she too was one of the new people who had come over after the merger.

“Aww, I’m so sorry to hear that!” I gave Tracy a slightly forced smile. “Well, hopefully she gets in safe tonight, and I can meet her in the morning.”

“Oh, I’m sure she’ll be fine.” Tracy dismissed the issue with a wave of her hand. “You guys can meet first thing in the morning and chat.”

Some additional polite conversation followed, and afterwards I took the group around the booth, showing everyone to their different stations. I focused on the newer folks as the other more experienced people I had confidence in. Walking through the exhibit, I explained the layout, how various things worked, and what to typically expect during a show.

“This booth is so much bigger than the one we had at our old company!”

“Well, we want to make sure you and your products are getting the highest visibility possible on the floor. That way traffic stays brisk, and the new lead draws stay solid.”

“Well, I gotta say, this is all pretty incredible.”

It was gratifying to hear their responses. Everything that had happened between Steve and I aside, this was what I was here for. It felt good to see and hear their positive reactions.

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