Except as soon as I click onto the first slide and start playing a clip of Pride’s show from last month, I suddenly forget everything.
The image of William’s hand between that girl’s legs and her mouth hanging open like she’s moaning into his ear keeps playing over and over.
My hands shake. My knees tremble. I think I might be sick.
But Ansell Drake is staring at me with those terrifying eyes and a strange, handsome frown on his lips, and I have to keep going.
I struggle on. I give them social media stats, from how many followers the band has to how many plays their songs get on Spotify. I give them attendance numbers from their last dozen shows. I mention glowing reviews in multiple indie magazines, including a short but favorable write-up from Pitchfork. I talk about Facebook groups, Twitter buzz, Instagram success. My mouth moves, I click through the slides, I play the clips, but my head isn’t in it. My heart isn’t in it.
William’s cheating on me and someone’s sending me the proof.
How can this be happening?
I finish my presentation. I have no clue how long it took, but everyone’s staring at me as I reach the final slide. I stand there, numb, stupid, blinking back at them, feeling like a total reject and a failure. I hate myself and hate the world. I’m a worthless loser and I deserve to be cheated on. I can’t even pitch a band like Pride without screwing it up and they practically sell themselves.
That’s the part that sucks the most: Pride is legitimately good, and if I just blew their chance at getting signed, I don’t know how I can forgive myself.
Ansell leans forward, interlacing his fingers, and Emma’s looking like she wants to cry from humiliation. I’m about to get ripped to shreds and I’m going to race out of here like Egon, except twice as bad, because the pain of my fiancé betraying me will only compound the hurt of whatever’s about to come out of Ansell Drake’s mouth next.
He speaks, a low and melodious, deep and resonant tone. “When is their next show?”
Emma looks at him, surprised. I barely manage to keep my jaw from hitting the table. I mumble something about not knowing and pull their schedule up on my phone. “This Saturday they’re playing a small show in town.”
“Get tickets for Baptist and me. You will come as well.”
“Oh, I suppose I didn’t have plans this weekend,” Baptist says, grinning.
I stare at Ansell and he stares back. His gaze is heady and intense and I feel some of my shame and self-hatred burn away beneath those eyes. I wonder what it would be like for him to pin my hands above my head the way William pinned that strange girl’s hands up—and god, what’s wrong with me?
“Right, tickets. Okay, sure, no problem.”
“Good work, Ms. Pearce.” Ansell leans back. There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips. Did I seriously make the Ice King smile? “See you Saturday.”
I look around, panicked. My heart’s racing and I don’t know what to do. Ansell Drake wants to see me this Saturday at Pride’s show. I mean, it’s a work event, but still. He’s looking at me like he’s curious about more than the music.
Emma seems totally blown away, but she mouths, go now, good job. I grab my stuff and scurry out of there, head dizzy, and barely manage to reach the hallway around the corner where Blair’s waiting to ambush me.
“Well, how did it go?” She’s whispering furiously as the next sacrificial victim heads into the conference room.
“He wants to see their next show.” I barely form the words, they sound so absurd.
Her eyes go wide. “Holy shit. Really?”
“It’s on Saturday.”
“Marie. Marie! That’s huge!”
“Is it?” I glance at my phone, buzzing with anxiety. “That’s good.”
“Marie. Ansell only goes to see bands he’s genuinely interested in. You’re one step away from making it! If he signs Pride, you’re going to be on the fast track to a promotion and a big fat raise. Plus commission! Are you getting this?”
“Right, commission.” I force myself to smile. “I’ve got to go, okay?”
“Marie!”
I walk past her and wave, practically running back to my cubicle. Ansell Drake wants to see a Pride show with me on Saturday. This is crazy, totally crazy, and I can’t process it without thinking about William cheating on me. I dump all my stuff except for my phone on my desk then disappear into the bathroom. I head into a stall, lock the door, and sit down on a closed toilet seat, on the edge of hyperventilating.
The memory of Ansell Drake’s stare makes my legs cross.
Except I can’t enjoy it.
William is cheating on me.
Oh my god, William is cheating on me in public.
Rage and humiliation burn through me, banishing any positive feelings I might have thanks to my psycho Ice King boss’s momentary smile.