Wendy
Evelyn’s scowling from the far end of the table. She hates us because we look like everything she’s spent her life chasing.
Wendy flashes a knowing look to Simone, poised and alert at her side. Then back to Evelyn. That bitter look on her face. The pinched expression.
She’ll never be like us. Just a loser from HR.
She glances at Alan and Gary, down the table. Their body language is all wrong for the boardroom, too casual. Too relaxed. Unbothered.
Then, Gary clears his throat. “The board appreciates your feedback, Wendy.”
“I should hope so,” she replies, lifting her chin.
“We’ve reviewed the matter,” he continues, giving nothing away, “and confirmed that Leah’s connection to Richard Cross was disclosed at the time of her hiring. Protocol was followed. There was no ethics violation. Got that? No misconduct. The board sees no reason to pursue this further.”
“You’re kidding. You want to let this go?” Wendy throws her hands up, outraged, because somehow she’s the villain for giving a damn. “You’re all protecting her!”
“That’s a hell of an accusation,” Evelyn cuts in, composure wavering, just slightly.
“Oh, it’s more than that. It’s the truth,” Wendy snaps, fed up with diplomacy. “Richard’s loyalty is to his niece, not to this agency. And when Leah screws up again, and she will, who protects us then?”
“It’s not a conflict,” Alan fires back, voice clipped, “and frankly, this is a waste of time.”
“It is a conflict. A PR risk. A credibility risk.” She slams her palms on the table. “You’re seriously willing to compromise NDA’s reputation just to keep Richard Cross happy?”
“You’re being dramatic,” Evelyn says, letting out a dry laugh.
“No.” Wendy turns, glaring. “I’m being realistic. And maybe one woman shouldn’t call another woman dramatic, okay, Evelyn?”
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“Wendy,” Simone interjects gently, “let’s refocus.”
Wendy turns to her, momentarily speechless, like the entire room just betrayed her. “You want me to let it go, too?”
“This is personal for you, isn’t it?”
“This is about power, Gary.” Wendy’s voice drops to a hiss. “And whose power counts.”
Then it happens. Alan loses it.
“Enough!”
His palm slams the table with a sharp crack. The room freezes. Even Simone doesn’t move, her eyes scanning every detail, clocking the look of shock on Wendy’s face, because she’s seen Alan irritated before, but never like this. Never enraged.
Whoopsie.
“The board has made its decision,” Evelyn declares. “Leah stays. Deal with it.”
Wendy stands. Slow. Controlled. Her voice shakes with fury. “Okay. Fine. I’ll deal with it.” She shoves her chair in with too much force and rounds toward the exit.
“And then? I’ll deal with her.”
Outside, the parking lot simmers.
“It’s a setback,” Simone calls out as she chases Wendy down.
Wendy spins around, her composure slipping, almost. “A setback? You were supposed to have my back, not sit there playing court stenographer, Simone. Aren’t you supposed to be my crisis manager? If you’re not working with me, then why are you even here? Fishing around for an agent?”
Simone removes her Givenchy sunglasses with a smooth flick. “First of all, I’m not your anything,” she says, no longer masking her contempt. “This was a favor. So let’s not get it twisted, love.”
She draws a breath, just long enough to rein herself in. “You want to talk representation, Wendy? Every minute I’ve spent cleaning up your mess has been pro bono. And yes, I expected something in return. Because in this town, that’s how it works. But don’t mistake me for your lapdog. Or your bitch.”
“Duly noted, Simone. Everything’s transactional with you. You thought you’d put in a little pro bono work at the best agency in town and walk away with a top agent. How convenient.”
Simone’s laughter spills out, pure mockery now. “I’m repped by WME, honey. But thanks for the thought.”
She steps closer, her breath a cold peppermint cut through the thick afternoon heat.
“Let me give you one last freebie, sweetheart. This stunt you stirred up? Amateur hour. You spun dust into drama to make noise. It’s beneath me. I don’t do petty.”
“Then why are you even here?”
“Honestly?” Simone’s smile spreads, slow and merciless. “I thought it’d make an interesting case study. How far one agency can be pushed by a single idiot.”
Wendy stalls. Caught off-guard. No comeback ready.
“And I knew exactly who you were the second you got on your knees begging for help. Boots warned me. You didn’t expose Felicia; you sabotaged her. Just like you’re trying to do with Leah. Keep that up, and you won’t last at NDA past Christmas, I’d bet my retainer on it.”
And with that, Simone spins and walks off, stilettos pounding against the pavement. Wendy watches her slide into the red Mercedes.
The door thunks shut.
The engine growls to life.
Tires shriek across the sun-baked asphalt.
And then she’s gone—leaving Wendy alone in the empty lot.