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“I should point out that she forced me to wear this ridiculous thing,” Clarence grumbles.
“Yes, because you refused to wear the magnificently ugly Christmas sweater I gave you!”
Sophie proudly shows me the sartorial masterpiece they’re arguing over: itchy wool in a shade of forest green, with gaudy candy canes surrounding a giant snowman whose carrot nose sticks right out… in 3D.
“Clarence, I’ve got to say, I’m with you on this one! But if you really don’t want this monstrosity, my best friend would be delighted to wear it.”
“Then you can pass it on to Niels. A man with actual taste,” Sophie declares.
Strangely quiet and somewhat withdrawn, Clarence doesn’t even bother to smile. I exchange a look with Sophie, she gives me a nod, and I take the plunge.
“Is everything okay, Clarence? At home?”
“No, not really. But we’re here to work. I’ve got the distribution reports if you want them. They’ve all been updated, as requested.”
“That can wait. Do you want to talk about it? You know anything you say will stay between us.”
“Yeah, and sorry about the sweater thing,” Sophie adds. “I didn’t know you were having problems—”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Clarence interrupts. “It will pass. Shall we get to work?”
We spend more than thirty minutes going over all the urgent matters we’d planned to cover, carefully ignoring the subject of our dejected coworker’s personal life. I make a mental note to alert HR, in case Clarence is nearing professional burnout or struggling with seasonal depression and needs help getting through it.
Back in my office, I manage to catch a call from Vadim to my work line just in time: he wants to see me in his office. Kate is a few steps ahead of me, so I follow her in and head straight for one of the armchairs beside the floor-to-ceiling window.
The tension in the room is palpable.
“Alright, I’m in a hurry. There’s somewhere else I need to be,” Vadim says abruptly.
“Well, thank you for gracing us with your presence,” Kate responds sarcastically.
At last, he looks up at us.
Something must have happened between them, something I’ve missed.
“Do you have anything to tell us?” Vadim asks her.
“Does Alma really need to be here? I thought we were going to discuss this in private.”
“She stays,” Vadim says.
“Very well. Let me recap,” Kate begins in a clipped voice. “I’ve been trying for several days now to get Vadim to open his eyes… without success.”
“My eyes are wide open, Kate.”
“If you two would stop taking pointless jabs at each other for two minutes, I might actually be able to understand what this is all about!” I suddenly blurt out.
They both turn their startled gazes toward me.
Apparently, they’d forgotten I could speak.
“I want us to plant someone from our side in Skylight’s offices,” my director says. “That way, we can stay one step ahead of them, turn the tables by making them our target, and strike a major blow if necessary!”
“And I said no. Multiple times,” Vadim growls. “I refuse to get caught up in this vicious cycle. If we try to beat them at their own game, it will never end.”
“Kate, we went to L.A. specifically to avoid this! To prevent their attacks or learn how to counter them, not to repeat the same pattern.”
She stares at me coldly. “It’s no longer just a matter of protecting ourselves. We have to fight back, gain the upper hand! Let’s show them what we’re capable of!”
