RAE
Have you ever come to a horrible realization in a public setting where youâre absolutely helpless? Your stomach plummets. Your vision fades out. Your hearing begins to dwindle. And all you can think about is whatever you just realized.
Why do I ask? Because thatâs happening to me, right now, in the middle of the Jade Agency weekly team meeting.
My camera is on my desk. In my cubicle. Well, the cubicle where I reside. I donât own it. You know, the one at Quincy Ventures, where Taylor and Michael work.
So, you know, at the workplace of people who would very much like to damage my career to keep me the fuck away from Logan Quincy.
Iâm in a room with twenty other people. I canât bolt out. JA hired me because I somehow managed to convince them (and myself) that Iâm a responsible photographer.
Leaving my cameraâthe one with photos from our clientâs confidential meetingsâbehind when Iâm not in the building is the epitome of an irresponsible photographer.
Not the look Iâm going for.
I force my attention onto Caroline, whoâs introducing a new graphic designer to the team. Heâs straight out of college and contracted to a major retailer to help them with an ad campaign.
I work for a great company. I mean, who lets entry-level employees work for department stores theyâre too poor to shop at?
Iâm a photographer and have steady employment, a decent salary, and a great boss. And I might have ruined it. I probably ruined it.
I peek at the clock over Carolineâs shoulder. 4:55. My camera has been there for nearly three hours. Definitely gone.
Finally, the clock hits 4:59, and everyone starts shuffling and moving ever-so-slowly from their seats. Nobody is in a rush, of course.
They didnât leave their shit behind. They have their lives together, unlike the weak link in the photography department named Rachel Jean Olson.
Shawn taps my shoulder. âAre you alright?â
âWha-yes. Yeah, Iâm fine. Why?â
âYou looked stressed out for a minute there.â He smiles sympathetically. âA long day at Quincy will do that to you.â
I could probably tell Shawn; heâs not the type to rat me out, and weâve become allies during our tenure at the hostile workplace named Quincy Ventures.
However, Caroline is still in the room, and I canât admit that I forgot my camera at the clientâs office in front of her.
Sheâs nice and more understanding than she should be, but pity and talent will only get me so far. Leaving a camera behind, unattended, is a big fucking deal.
I open the Uber app as soon as weâre out the conference room and punch in the address for Quincy Ventures.
âTrying to spend more quality time with Taylor?â comes Shawnâs voice.
I freeze. âI, uh, forgot something. I just need to⦠No, not to see Taylor.â
Shawnâs face takes on the guilty expression he gets when he makes me uncomfortable, which isnât terribly often. Heâs easier to talk to than most people, but his boldness sometimes throws me off.
He isnât ashamed to look at my phone over my shoulder and let me know that he did exactly that.
âDo you want a ride there? Itâs on my way home,â he offers.
Iâd much rather take an Uber, but Uber means waiting, and desperate times call for desperate measures. âThat would be amazing. Thank you so much, Shawn. Thanks. Thank you.â
âOf course. You ready?â
No, but I tell him I am.
The silent, crowded elevator is the perfect place to brainstorm conversation topics for the five-minute drive to QV from JA. I decide on one: Shawn. People love to talk about themselves.
Theyâre very forgiving if you ask awkward questions or stumble over your words if theyâre the subject. I think itâs a flattery thing.
Itâs always nice when someone shows interest in your life, even when itâs the weird, shy photography chick.
âHowâs wedding planning going?â I ask as soon as Shawn unlocks his car.
Itâs the perfect question. Shawn proposed to his girlfriendâfiancée now, I supposeâa couple of months ago. That means theyâve had enough time to think about the wedding and start on preliminary plans, but a lot is still up in the air.
Which means thereâs ~a lot~ to talk about.
âIâll show you pictures of the venue weâre thinking of tomorrow,â Shawn promises when we pull up to the curb.
âI canât wait to see them! Thanks, Shawn. See you tomorrow.â
If someone was going to pluck my camera off my desk, itâs gone already, but I still power-walk through the lobby and jam my finger into the â15â button way too forcefully.
Half the cubicles are still occupied, but no one gives me attention. Everyone is fixated on their screens, probably desperate to finish whatever theyâre doing so they can go home.
Canât say I blame them. Zoe made spinach ravioli, and itâs definitely getting cold.
I squeeze my eyes shut as I approach my cubicle and breathe a massive sigh of relief when I open them again. My livelihood remains on my desk. âOh, thank ~God~,â I mumble.
âWhatâs got you so fired up, Rae?â
If thereâs any voice that can burst my Iâm-still-employed bubble of happiness, itâs that one. The one that belongs to Michael Pomeroy.