Page 30 of Not Safe For Work

“Weird, but not that bad. He’s kept his mouth shut, so that’s a plus.”

Andie bites her lip, making a face that tells me I’m so very wrong.

“Shit. What’s he been saying?”

“Nothing too bad. Just, you know, the usual stuff.”

I pin her with a stare. “Andie.”

“There you are,” Mitch’s voice sounds from above. “I need to borrow Livy for a minute,” he says to Andie before turning around. What’s it like to have that kind of power? To not even have to wait and see if people will do what you ask.

I look at her half apologetically and half scared as I stand up. She mouthsbig tit energybefore I jog after Mitch.

I follow him to the other side of the patio where there’s more privacy. The further we get away from the group, the brighter my anxiety burns. Why do I have a feeling he’s about to fire me?

We sit down at a small table and Mitch takes a long pull of his drink.

“Just wanted to let you know I’m gonna be out next week. Ellen wants me up in Portland.” Oh god. He wants to talk about his ex-wife? This is getting so annoying. Mitch never treats me like his friend, not like he does with the rest of our team. The only exception is when he wants to vent or needs advice about his ex. Like because I’m the only one with ovaries that I’m more qualified for the topic. I’m not a fucking couple’s therapist.

“Okay, well, I’m glad she’s talking to you again,” I reply, trying to nip this conversation in the bud. Half the time he’s upset she won’t talk to him or see him. Then he complains because she wants him to come back to Portland—where they have a home and achild—instead of her coming down here.

“Yeah, we’ll see. Anyway, I won’t be able to oversee your product demo, so you’ll need someone else to join.”

Oh.

“I’m sure Gavin will sit in if he’s free, but I’m prepared to run the demo myself,” I offer.

“I’m sure he will.” His words have an edge that I don’t quite understand. “You can cut the shit with Gavin, by the way. Ian might have offered some protection, but if you were hoping to keep that job insurance, you should’ve aimed a little higher.”

From the way he’s raising his brows and tilting his head I’m wondering if he’s actually referring to himself.Gross.

I picture Andie’s face as best I can.Big tit energy.

“I like Gavin. He’s kind and thoughtful, and I’m not using him for job insurance.” Well, the first two were true. But I’m notusinghim, am I? I don’t want to be. He’s just helping me out with a tough situation. And now I realize the whole ordeal is going to be even worse than I thought when we come clean. Will Mitch think I ended it because he called me out?

“Look, you wanna throw Gavin a bone so he’ll be your little helper? Be my guest. All I give a shit about are results.Youchose to alienate the CMO at the company you’re selling to. So show me some progress with the deal, and soon, or it’ll be clear this job isn’t for you.”

“Mitch—”

He stands up and throws back the rest of his beer. “Gotta get to the airport, Livy. Text me any updates with Surf and Stream.”

And apparently, another lovely conversation with Mitch is over.

I slump down on the bench, not wanting anyone to see me. I’ve mastered the art of holding in tears, but my anxiety always makes me fidgety.

Have I somehow made this situation worse? Mitch wanted me to use a man’s attraction to me to close a deal. Now he’s threatening me because he thinks I’m using a man to keep my job? How does he not see the hypocrisy here? I’m so sick of all these double standards. It feels like any decision I make is wrong, like just being a woman is wrong.

All I want is to be taken seriously, to prove myself in the business world. I want to play by the same rules as the men.

I never asked Gavin for an assist and now I’m wondering if I should be pissed at him for playing white knight. But I know he was only trying to help. And without him stepping in, my promotion was already on the line. I was never going to go to HR to complain about Mitch. I don’t want to be another Silicon Valley story that people use as anecdotes at happy hour. I don’t want my career to become the memoir I’m forced to write to stay relevant.

How did everything get so twisted?

Looking down at my hands, I realize I’ve dug my nails into my palm so hard that little crescent moons mar my skin.

I dig through my bag to find my AirPods, grateful I made the last-minute decision to bring them. As soon as I turn on my “chill out” playlist, I can feel my heartbeat slow down. I will not have a panic attack out here.

Closing my eyes, I let the French lyrics and slow beat drown out the thoughts in my head, and do a few breathing exercises my therapist taught me.

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