What A Girl Wants (4 page)

“The whole Fred/Grant thing. That was a signal that something needed to change. I'm suffering from inertia. The bad kind. I'm a motionless object with no hope of getting anything started. Inertia. I'm a motionless stone gathering moss.”

“I think you just lost me,” Suz said.

Hayley sighed heavily and slumped back into the couch. “Seriously. I need to . . . I need . . . I need to take a stand about something, anything, make some decisions, step out in the world.”

She picked up the crab-puff tray and held it against her chest with one hand, dropping puffs into her mouth with the other. “I wothn't ethen thow ware t'thart.”

“Well. All that from porn. I personally didn't pick up the same deep intellectual subtext, but that begs the question. What
are
your goals?” Audra asked.

Of course, she would ask. Hayley felt a deer-in-the-headlights expression come over her face.

“Geez, don't look so scared. Not everybody has to have them.” This from Suz, currently employed as the Johnny Beer girl.

“I—I . . .”

“It's okay, Hayley,” Diane said. “We're all friends. Go ahead.”

Hayley swallowed hard. “I'm kind of a beginner here. They don't have to be really big goals, really big long-term goals, do they?”

Suz, Diane, and Audra scooched closer to Hayley on the couch. Audra shook her head. “They can be very small goals, very small. Why don't you just try saying one small goal really fast? Just say whatever comes to mind.”

“We promise not to laugh,” Diane said solemnly. Suz elbowed her.

“I want . . .”

They all leaned forward.

Hayley took a deep breath. “I want that raise they promised me over six months ago?”

“Excellent. More a question than a statement, but an excellent first attempt.”

Audra nodded encouragingly. “Nicely done.”

“You don't even like that job; you might as well get the most you can out of it. Especially if they owe it to you.”

Hayley looked at Suz in surprise and bit her lip. “That's true. . . .”

“Anything else? Or should we just work with that?” Audra patted her hand.

“Um . . .” Hayley felt a little bit more confident now. Confident enough to take on two goals, actually. “Okay, I also want a fabulous, single, heterosexual boyfriend. As soon as possible.”

Suz burst out laughing, Audra gasped and put her hand to her throat, and Diane just looked at her incredulously, her stylus twitching between her fingers.

“What?” Hayley asked. “What's so funny?”

“Maybe you'd better start with the raise,” Diane said.

Hayley sighed and nodded. “You're right. Probably a lot easier to get in this town.”

“I don't know about that,” Suz said. “What about the policeman? Grant?”

“Oh, God, no! That was a onetime thing.” Wasn't it?

“Well, he's the closest you've come to an eligible guy in some time,” Audra pointed out. “Diane's right. I'm quite sure it's easier to get a raise than a man in this town.”

Hayley considered that. At this point, in terms of instant gratification, a guy would definitely be preferable to increased wages. But one had to consider the time-cost trade-off. It would take her an insane amount of time to both locate and work up enough courage to actually ask out the kind of guy she'd actually want to date.

On the other hand, maybe she didn't have to start from scratch. Maybe Grant wasn't totally out of the picture. Maybe he was just holding back at a respectful distance, allowing her to grieve for her coworker before stepping in and making his next move.

Right.

Squaring her shoulders, Hayley looked up at her friends. “Let's go with the raise.”

“Ladies, I do believe that's my cue.” Audra assumed her game face, the one with the really calculating look around the eyes. “I'm sure we all agree that I'm best equipped to be Hay's career coach. Suzy will handle the relationship angle when it's time, and Di will . . . well, Di can document the progress in her research paper.”

“If you guys can get me through this, I swear, I'll . . . I'll be insanely grateful. I don't know what I'd do without you.” Hayley put
her arms around Audra's and Suz's shoulders. Suz linked arms with Diane.

“Group hug, everybody,” Diane said. “We'd better do it now before things start to get ugly and we end up not speaking to each other.”

“Ha-ha,” Hayley said. “I hardly think this is going to be quite that traumatic.”

Diane looked at her and grinned. “Famous last words.”

“Suzy, you and I have been through this sort of thing before. Whatever happens, friends. Right?”

“Absolutely, Audra. Friends.
Of course
, friends.” Suz sounded like she was getting a little teary, but she apparently recovered in time and said, “But you do realize I'm going to beat you to the punch. Even with you getting a head start.”

Audra sniffed disdainfully. “I find it hard to believe that you think Hayley will get a man before she gets a raise. Besides, this is hardly a competition, Suzy.”

Suz cocked an eyebrow. She and Audra exchanged knowing smiles. They both loved to compete.

Diane said to Hayley, “Just remember, they have your best interests at heart. We all do.”

“Yes, and I'm sure we can comport ourselves with the kind of respect and decency Hayley deserves,” Audra said.

Hayley didn't know whether to laugh or cry. She'd seen Audra and Suz in the thick of competition before, and it wasn't pretty. Well, Diane would have to help referee. Frankly, Hayley wasn't about to turn down their help. These guys were pros. And she certainly couldn't do it alone.

Diane bent down and retrieved her handheld from where it had
fallen on the floor during the chaos. She flipped the lid and turned it on. “Audra, if you're first, you might as well get started. It's still early.”

Suz stood up and glanced at her watch. “Maybe I oughta make some more popcorn. Most of the first batch seems to be on the rug.”

“Don't bother,” Audra said. “This isn't going to take that long. Everything Hayley needs to know is condensed into three simple rules of salary negotiation.” She smiled at Hayley. “If you memorize just these three rules, there's no way you can possibly fail.”

H
ayley didn't hit the snooze button even once the following morning. She just popped out of bed like a true optimist. Today, she was going to ask for a raise, and she felt mighty fine about it. Mighty fine. She considered the contents of her closet carefully this morning, and selected, of all things, an electric-blue wool sweater.

She'd never actually worn the sweater before, but she selected it with great flair, whipping out the mothball-drenched sweater bag from the very back of the closet. She would wear it as a symbol. A symbol of a decision made and acted upon, a decision outside of the norm. Bright blue plucked out of a sea of endless black.

And so Hayley prepared herself for the big event, sallying forth on that promising June day in black canvas slip-ons, black skirt number four (A-line, again three-quarter-length but not so flippy, and this time with a tasteful slit over the left knee), a black baby tee with the New Economy Mouthpiece logo prominently displayed across the chest (to demonstrate employee loyalty), and the
blue wool sweater tied around her waist (since it was too damn hot to actually wear).

She left the house feeling as ready as she'd ever be.

Unfortunately, the closer the bus traveled toward her stop near the office, the greater Hayley's urge to beat the driver unconscious with her purse, hijack the bus, and head over to Gerttie's for a hot breakfast became.

Why was it so hard for her to find the courage to step up and ask for what she wanted? It was bad enough it took three extra people and a skin flick to get to the point where she'd even identified what she wanted.

By the time she'd made it from the bus to the office elevator, she'd chipped the nail polish entirely off her left hand. Hayley stared at her decimated nails and just shook her head.

She'd been promised this raise. How hard could it be to ask for what she was due? Of course, once she had the raise, then what? Life was good? Hardly. Then she'd simply be making more money doing a job she didn't particularly like. Was that momentum? She wasn't so sure.

Settled in her cubicle, Hayley sighed and fished in her purse for a mirror. At least it was a step in the right direction. She checked her teeth and her hair, wiping under her eyes for any smudged mascara.

In a last-ditch effort to build confidence, she ran through Audra's three rules of negotiation one more time:

1. Don't let the bastards intimidate you; stand your ground.
   
2. Don't take no for an answer; suggest a creative compromise.
   
3. And whatever you do, don't get combative; be friendly but firm.
   

That was it. That was all she needed to know. She took a deep breath and stood up, retying the sleeves of her sweater around her waist with great ceremony as a sort of silent battle cry. And then she stepped out into the hall . . . looked left . . . looked right . . . and realized that she had no idea where her boss sat.

This should not have been surprising, given that it was Hayley's normal policy to stay as far away from the managing editor as possible, at all times. Oddly enough, she couldn't exactly remember why she'd made that decision. Come to think of it, her lack of visibility with the executive team probably had something to do with the fact that she never got the raise she was promised.

After returning to her cube and consulting the on-line floor map, Hayley made her way across the workloft to the designated cube and stood just outside her boss's doorway, psyching herself up for the big moment.

She peeked into the cube, then immediately pulled back out, flattening herself against the outer cube wall. That was her boss, Janice Rasler, all right. Now she remembered why she had initially decided to avoid her.

Janice wore huge Coke-bottle glasses that magnified her eyes about tenfold. Those eyes, coupled with a giant football-shaped head, gave one the uncomfortable sensation of being held under alien surveillance. In short, spending time with Janice was not conducive to the creative process.

Hayley took another deep breath and stepped into the open doorway. Janice didn't notice her at first, as she seemed absorbed in picking at the tail end of her lunch with both hands like an oversize pod creature, all ten fingers sort of mowing slowly through the
remnants on her plate for a last tasty morsel. Hayley winced. Up until now Fred had made contact with Janice unnecessary in the big scheme of Hayley's daily working life. Poor Fred. Maybe he just couldn't take it anymore.

Janice suddenly looked up. “I'm done,” she said, and pushed her lunch plate across the desk.

Hayley stared at the plate. “Um, hello, Janice. It's me, Hayley.”

“Great. Tell them to send me the low-sodium lunch next time.”

“I'm sorry?”

“You don't need to be sorry. Just make sure I get the low-sodium tomorrow.”

“No, I mean . . . um. I'm not here about your lunch.”

Janice pushed her glasses back against the bridge of her nose. “You're the new girl.”

“Nooo, actually I'm not the new girl. I'm Hayley.”

Blank expression.

“Hayley Jane Smith? The, uh, the ‘old' girl. Heh. Blurbs and headlines? You're my boss.” Okay, this had quickly surpassed embarrassing and was now entering the realm of excruciatingly painful. Hayley could feel that the area around her waist where the wool sweater was tied was already soaked with sweat. She took a deep breath and told herself not to panic.

She could now see that relying solely upon Fred to avoid Janice had been a fatal error. For the first time her life, Hayley understood the benefits of general office politics, backstabbing and ass kissing. They could be useful workplace tools and ought to be exercised on a regular basis, sort of like disaster training.

Janice squinted at her through her lenses. “Are you sure?”

“Um, yes, I'm sure.”

“You work for me?” Janice closed one eye and gazed at Hayley out of the other. It was somewhat disconcerting.

Deep breath. “Yes, I do, and the reason—”

“Then you must be on deadline.”

Negotiation rule number one: Don't let the bastards intimidate you.

Here goes.
“Yes, and I can assure you that I will make the deadline. What I'd really like to talk to you about is . . . is . . . salary.” God, with the exception of the pathetic stutter at the end, there, she sounded just like Audra. It was amazing.

Janice steepled her hands together. “We give raises on a meritorious basis after each six-month review.”

“Perhaps I'm not communicating effectively, heh. . . . You see, when I was hired, the company didn't have all its funding, and I was promised a raise when it came through. And since it did, I figured—”

“Who promised?”

“Well, unfortunately, it was Fred. Fred Leary, the senior copy editor . . . he hired me. He was the senior person on my interview schedule.”

“Ah, well, that explains it. That is unfortunate, since Fred doesn't work here anymore.” Janice turned back to the papers that had been under her lunch plate, discussion over.

“Excuse me?”
Doesn't
work
here?
That was one way to put it.

“I'm saying, we can't ask him to confirm your statement because he left the company last week.” Hayley sort of gaped until Janice added, “We'll have to table this until your next review.”

“You think Fred—”
Wait a minute.
“The next review is months away. It will have been over a year since I was hired.”

“Precisely.”

Negotiation rule number two: Don't take no for an answer.

“I certainly see where you're coming from, Janice, but perhaps we can come to some sort of, uh, creative compromise?” Okay, that was good. That was really nice. Channeling Audra, now.

Janice sighed and put her pencil down. “One second.” She rolled to the file cabinet against the back wall of her cube and fished around until she pulled out a folder.

“Aha. Mmm. I see. So
that's
you. Ahhh . . . I'm going to have to say this, aren't I?”

Hayley's stomach lurched and started to roil.

“The thing is . . . Hayley, is it? The thing is, Hayley, New Economy Mouthpiece is moving in a more professional, business-oriented direction. You haven't shown the ability to write material with that target in mind.”

“It says that in my file?”

“Yes. Apparently your material is still struggling. It says, and I quote, ‘Hayley's writing is still too snarky and not reflective of the serious nature of the business-oriented New Economy audience.' ” She closed the file with a snap.

“I'm ‘too snarky'?”

Janice smiled sadly and returned the file to the cabinet drawer.

“I'm ‘too snarky.' ”

Janice looked up with a frown.

Negotiation rule number three: Don't become combative, whatever you. . . Oh, shut up, Audra.

“Golly, Janice. Were we just going to wait and save the bad news for the review, at which point I would be denied a raise anyway? Was someone going to get around to telling me that I'm ‘too snarky' and maybe I should start working on refining my writing style?”

Janice used her pinkie to fish a bit of lunch out of her front
teeth. She made a repulsive smacking sound and said, “I believe Fred Leary was.”

Hayley placed her palm down on Janice's desk and leaned forward. “Oh, I see, well, has anyone here on your side of the building noticed that Fred Leary is
dead
? No? Well, by all means, let me be the first to inform you that Fred Leary kicked the bucket last week. He's
no comprende.
Kaput. In other words, Fred Leary is physically unable to keep promises at this point, and he certainly hasn't been by my desk this morning to talk about excessive snarkiness.”

Janice's skin turned a pasty white. In a low, threatening voice, she asked, “Was that an outburst?”

Hayley stared at her, numbly watching Janice's eyes bulge. Unnerved, she cleared her throat before answering, “It may have been an outburst.” She had a bad feeling about this.

Janice leaned forward and slammed her palms flat on the desk. Hayley snatched her hand away and took a stumbling step backward.

“Too snarky,” Janice hissed. Without a doubt, it was meant to be the final two words on the subject.

All at once Hayley deflated. Audra would have cringed if she'd heard the way Hayley simply squeaked, “Uh, never mind,” then turned around and started to walk out of the cube.

“It's Hayley Jane Smith, right?”

How nice. Janice knew her name now.

Hayley didn't even look over her shoulder. Eyes on the exit, she just nodded and retreated to her own cube.

Yep, she was definitely roiling now. That combination feeling of helplessness, anger, and insecurity all rolled into one. She needed a good cry, that was for sure. But definitely not here.

She untied the sweater from her waist, slinging it over the armrest of her office chair. It immediately slithered to the floor.

Hayley glared at the pile of blue wool and then flung herself into the rickety chair, purposely sliding off the seat cushion until her ass was hanging in thin air and her elbows were hooked around the armrests.

With the one major exception surrounding the discovery of Fred's body, Hayley thought she normally handled stress pretty well. She'd been taking yoga once a week for three months now, and was starting to believe that total Zen was just around the corner.

Or at least, that was her justification for the ridiculous monthly fee she paid to have some guy who needed a shave and a pair of shorts with better coverage encourage her to place her legs in positions that she wasn't sure they really needed to go into.

But rather than invoking those special yoga swami breathing exercises, she kept replaying the Janice encounter over and over in her mind with variations on witty comebacks and snappy answers she wished she'd given.

So instead of feeling calmed and centered, she just sat there fuming, sprawled half-off her office chair with her arms and legs akimbo, and stared up at the hip industrial lighting system above her desk.

And after a little while the graphic designer's mutt, Ponzi, wandered into her cube and stuck his head up her skirt.

Hayley swallowed a bloodcurdling scream, maintaining enough presence of mind to recognize that this was not something she wanted anyone to witness.

In sheer terror, she pushed off the floor with her feet. With her arms completely stuck in the armrests due to the gripping tension in her muscles, she rolled the chair backward, pedaling desperately, trying anything to dislodge the dog's head from beneath her skirt.

It was obviously confused, its paws tangled in the blue sweater,
struggling to find the light of day, and at this point, thoroughly uninterested (thank God) in what might be up there in the skirt.

After what seemed like a lifetime, the pooch finally popped loose.

Hayley scrambled into a wobbly standing position on the chair with her hands clenched in tight fists.