From Her Dirty Rockers
CORAL
“You want me to do what?”
My boss Randall, in his unfortunately crooked toupee, leaned back in his desk chair, hands behind his head, smiling from ear to ear.
He was throwing me a bone. I should be grateful. Bones were good. Most bones, anyway.
I had no idea how I would tell him that this one was not.
“Coral, why aren’t you excited about this new client? You should be jumping up and down and screaming, not to mention thanking me with a big, grateful hug.”
I’d completely baffled him.
And he was right to be. I should have been on cloud nine, having been assigned the most high-profile client our public relations firm had ever landed. If I did a good job, this would catapult me into the company spotlight. The journalists I pitched stories to would actually take my calls. The firm would land more high-paying celebrity clients.
Which was the pinnacle of success for any Los Angeles-based PR firm. Big clients begat other big clients. The old snowball effect.
And I could see the dollar signs in Randall’s eyes. Not that he didn’t deserve all the success that came his way. The man had worked his fingers to the bone since starting the firm at his kitchen table, representing a little consortium of West Hollywood businesses. Word got around that he was good at what he did, and boom, his firm was born. Small and mighty, but absolutely respectable, he’d been toiling for ten years, waiting for that one client who’d hurl him into the top echelon of LA firms.
It looked like that time had come.
And he wanted me to handle the client. All by myself. Like a big girl.
I shook the doubts away.
It didn’t work.
“Um, oh, Randall, I am totally grateful. You have no idea what this vote of confidence means to me. Seriously. It’s an honor. You know I appreciate it.”
Big lies, all of them.
I swallowed the bitterness rising in my throat. I needed water, now.
Clapping his hands together, he leaned forward on his desk. “Super. You’ll meet with them tomorrow.”
Something slammed against the recesses of my stomach, and if I hadn’t been in front of my boss, I would have doubled over and groaned.
Oh god help me.
“Thank you, Randall,” I said, forcing my voice to sound like something more than a thin squeak.
He furrowed his brow. He was no dummy.
“What’s the hesitation, Coral? Anything I need to know? I chose you for this assignment because you’re the best the firm has. You get results like no one else. This will be good for the firm. For us. For you.”
I smiled and nodded, grappling for the enthusiasm he wanted to see.
I straightened up in my chair to show how serious I was. “I’m thrilled, Randall. Just nervous about doing such high-profile work,” I lied again. “Everyone will be watching. But that’s a good thing. We can handle this. I can handle this.”
He beamed. “That’s the Coral I know and love. You’ll knock it out of the park, I know you will. And hey, I’m going to be right beside you all the way. We’re partners in this.”
“G… great. This is so great,” I chirped.
Oh mother of god. I had no idea what I was going to do.
I needed time. Yes, I would buy time. Think carefully about what I would say.
He raised a finger. “Oh. Almost forgot the best part.”
Oh, goody.
“If this goes well, I want you to become a partner in the firm.”
What? Did he just say something about becoming a partner?
Holy shit.
“You’re speechless, Coral. Never thought I’d see that.” He laughed.
Neither did I.
Me? A partner? In the firm?
It was what I’d hoped for since the day I started. I’d worked my ass off because one, I loved the work, and two, because I knew that moving up the ladder would be rewarding on many levels, not least of which was financial. And after the way I’d grown up, with my parents just squeaking by, I was pretty motivated by the almighty dollar. I couldn’t lie. I had regular nightmares about my staggering student loans.
But even more important, I’d be a success. A bona fide success at the level no one ever thought I’d be.
The doubters could suck it.
Wait till I told Nikki, my BFF. She was going to lose her shit. She was on my side. Had been for as long as we’d known each other.
Numb, I gave Randall one last smile and wandered back to my office to Google my new client, Dirty Bandit. Not that I needed to Google the number one rock band in the world. Of course I knew who they were. Everyone did. The bad boys of rock. I’d kept an eye on their meteoric rise from garage band to stadium-filler.
This is what most everyone knew of them.
Enter me.
I knew these guys from before Dirty Bandit even existed.
Our association was not a happy one.
“Coral, one more thing,” Randall said, sticking his head in my office. “Maybe you’ll get some concert tickets out of this. Wouldn’t that rock?”
Boss jokes. Almost as bad as dad jokes.
Anyway, like I would ever go to a Dirty Bandit concert. I hated rock ‘n roll and I hated their music even more.
Randall shook his head at his pun, and turned to one of my coworkers in the hallway, where they began to discuss the shoe company we did PR for.
I needed to think, and fast. I had to concoct a reason why I couldn’t possibly work with Dirty Bandit, the world’s biggest rock band and the most prestigious client our firm had ever had.
‘Course, I could always tell the truth.
No, scratch that.
Whatever I came up with, people would think I needed to have my head examined. But that was fine. I could weather that storm.
Working with Dirty Bandit, not so much.
Why couldn’t I work on the shoe account, where all we did was make sure famous actresses wore our clients’ shoes to award ceremonies and other events? So civilized. So easy. And all those free shoes.
It was amazing how, with just a few words, one could be transported from an imperfect but satisfying everyday existence to someplace so uncomfortable, it made your skin itch. I rubbed my forearms, but the creepy crawlies wouldn’t go away.
My day had seriously gone to shit.
Was I overstating it?
Nope.
Before the end of the day, Randall would be getting a big, fat no from me.
One way or the other.
* * *
