And for the second time this week, I feel like I could faint at any second. It's not because of Masterson, who happens to be even more unpleasant than I imagined. It's because of Jack, who acts like he owns the fucking universe.
"The organic packaging from recycled paper and plastic allows us to cut production costs by nearly fourteen percent." I take a deep breath to even out my breathing. "We’ll choose random women from the street to test the product, and we'll ask them to direct every step of the video. And then we'll upload the videos to the internet. In this case, we’ll save money on advertising with a celebrity, and we’ll already have our first clients who like the product and will tell their friends about it."
Surprisingly, Tom Masterson allows me to finish.
When I raise my eyes from my papers to look at Jack, our gazes meet, and I see a slight, barely visible smile on his face, as if he's proud of me.
I’m relieved. I don't know why, but it was harder for me to speak because of Jack, who already knows the strategy, than because of Masterson, even though he's a professional jerk.
I know it's ridiculous, but I feel proud of myself that Jack is pleased with my presentation. As if I wanted to make him proud of me, which I didn't. I don't even like Jack Harden; why should I want him to like me?
His gaze is so intense that goose bumps cover my skin. And this time, it's not because I'm scared.
"I’ve never heard an idea more destined to fail," Tom Masterson finally says, interrupting my thoughts.
I need a couple of seconds before I realize what he’s saying.
"We already discussed the advertising," he continues and turns to look at Nicolas. "Tell them, runt."
"The woman in the commercial walks down the street, looking at the shop windows,covetingthis cream," Nicolas chatters rapidly, probably expecting Tom to interrupt him. "She looks bad and scruffy, and when she gets the cream as a gift from her rich friend, her face starts glowing, and she finally meets the man of her dreams."
"Now you understand?" Masterson speaks again, looking at Jack and punching his assistant's shoulder as if to thank him for a good job, but it seems more like a real slap. "The idea of unattainability always attracts people. And what do women crave the most? Men!"
I haven't heard a more ridiculous advertising campaign pitch since the era of supermodels in the nineties. They were proud to be unreachable goddesses who ran the world.
Luckily, that era is history. We have a new generation of women who love themselves for who they are and not how they look.
"With all due respect, Mr. Masterson," I say, before Jack can even speak, "women don’t crave men; they crave independence."
My heart is trying to jump out of my chest.
I’ve never been this nervous. Even when I gave birth to my daughter at seventeen.
"They don’t need to become perfect," I continue before he can interrupt me. "All they need is to love themselves as they are, with a little help from a natural, truly skin-caring cream, which they'll use because they like it, and not because it turns Cinderella into a princess."
For a couple of seconds, they all look at me as I’ve magically sprouted a horn in the middle of my forehead and transformed into a unicorn.
Even Jack is surprised that I not only interrupted Masterson, but I also criticized his idea and proved my opinion.
"Says who?" Masterson barks irritably. "You? This guy?" He hits Nicolas again. "He went to Wharton and graduated with honors. And where did you go? I bet it was some free public college maintained by taxpayers like me for newcomers like you, who…"
"Enough!" Jack roars and hits the table with his fist so loudly that I startle, and every diner in the restaurant swivels to look at us.
Masterson freezes with fear at first but then comes to his senses and smirks.
"Aren't you too young to shut me up?" Each word Tom Masterson says is filled with fear, though he tries to sound at ease.
"It's over, Masterson," Jack says and rises from his chair. "We're done, and not only with this project, but we're also done working with you at all."
Nicolas seems glued to his chair, scared that if he moves, he'll be punched again, but this time harder.
Jack holds out a hand, and I realize that it's for me to stand up.
"Aren't you taking on a lot?" Masterson speaks through the clenched teeth.
Jack leans suddenly on the table, and Masterson shrinks back in fear.
"Don't worry, Tom. I'm not gonna hit you," Jack says in cold voice, quieter than before. "Despite how many times I wanted to hit you when I was younger, looking at how you treated my mother and all of your wives, I won't do this. You're too old; it wouldn't be fair. My father was too afraid to lose you as an investor, and that's why he stood by you. But I'm not him. And I won't let you hurtmy woman."