PROLOGUE
She sticks her downloaded Internet photos of him onto the corkboard. She pins them up by the edges, taking care not to deface his beautiful face in any way.
Not yet, at least.
BRIAN MORTON. President and CEO of Vanguard Advertising, the hippest, most avant-garde advertising firm in Chicago. The firm corporations flock to when they want something different, thought- and mood-provoking . . . and sexy.
It is so unfair. He has everything – good looks, charm, brilliance, money, success. And she has nothing.
This will be rectified very soon.
Because she’s going to make him pay for what he did to her. She’s going to make that promiscuous, no good, lying son of a bitch suffer as he has never suffered before. And when she’s through with him, he’s going to rue the day he was born.
She stands a little distance away from the corkboard, studying his photos from an angle. He’s so handsome with his huge bedroom eyes, fantastic hair – always maintaining that ‘just out of bed’ tumbled look – and his wide sensuous lips. Lips that she has kissed repeatedly when he was f**king her. She can still feel him inside her, even though it’s only a memory. A ghost of a memory. An imprint of emotions turned topsy-turvy; of love turned to hate.
She sure as hell hates him now. She clenches her fist, harnessing the accumulated vitriol which is manifesting in the bile that curdles her throat.
Brian Morton, when I’m through with you, you will have nothing left.
1
In the boardroom of the company he founded with his cousin, Brian Morton stands in front of a screen. He loves doing his own presentations, especially if he has coined the idea himself.
In this instance, his client happens to be the mayor’s office – a real coup for Vanguard. The mayor has long been with Barstow Advertising across the street. But for this particular ad, the mayor’s office had wanted something different. Something provocative.
Vanguard has acquired the reputation for provocation, thanks in no small measure to Brian’s own efforts.
Brian says, “Basically, people are becoming numbed to advertising. You need to get their attention. And trust me, this will.”
He depresses a button on the remote control. A Powerpoint slide appears onscreen.
The mayor’s representatives sit up in their seats. A stir goes through the entire room. People lean over to whisper to one another. The air bristles with excitement.
“Exactly the reaction I’d hoped for,” Brian remarks.
He turns to the screen. The image is that of two silver cars in twisted wrecks upon the grey tarmac of a freeway. Or at least, that’s what they initially resemble. But look again. These are not cars. These are smashed and broken cellphones designed to resemble cars. Their display screens are unmistakable, as are their damaged keypads. The telephone poles in the background only serve to accentuate the freeway impression.
“Don’t text while you drive,” Brian finishes.
The expressions of the people in the room are admiring, rapturous. Applause breaks out, even from his own team – who has seen the copy many times. The applause swells, and there are cries of “Bravo!”, “Amazing!”, “Wonderful!”
Brian basks in this acknowledgment of yet another emotionally effective ad. Sometimes, the feeling is better than an orgasm.
Almost.
God, he loves his job.
He has no idea then that all hell is about to break loose.
2
Samantha Fox walks nervously into the reception area of her office. Over here, all hell is about to break loose as well.
Two maintenance men are in the midst of taking down the ‘LANDRY AND SONS’ sign. She knows they will replace it with the blue diamond-shaped logo of ‘SAPPHIRE’, the competitor company which had bought over her old one in a hostile coup that came slinging out of nowhere.
Fiona, the receptionist, is nowhere in sight. Nevertheless, the reception area is bustling with people she has never seen before. They carry folders, files, stacks of documents – all presumably from Sapphire. The whole office is in bustling upheaval.
What the hell is going on? Well, other than the obvious fact that they have been taken over. But she didn’t expect such a massive and sudden shift. No one in the former Landry and Sons had.
Peter Goodwin from Human Resources comes out, his face ashen. He carries a box filled with photo frames, vases and bric bracs. Sam’s heart sinks. She recognizes the silver-framed family photo of Peter, his wife and their three kids that he’d had on his desk forever.
“Peter?” Her own voice is tinny and scared.
Peter stops. His lined face wears the expression of someone who has just lost a spleen in a near-fatal car crash.
“What are they doing? Why are you clearing out your stuff?” The pitter-patter of her own pulse rises in Sam’s neck.
“They’re canning us and replacing us with people they have brought over from the parent company.” Peter swallows. “The new boss, Rutgard, is in the boardroom . . . firing people.”
“But for what? He can’t just fire people like that. Some of us have been here for over ten years. Like you, for instance.”
“I know. He’s downsizing the company. The retrenchment package they’re giving us isn’t that great either. A month’s salary for every year you’ve been here. That will last me for about ten months.” Peter jerks his head in the direction of the boardroom. “I’m sorry, Sam, but he’s looking for you too.”
Oh God oh God oh God.
Her chest cavity suddenly feels hollower than it has a right to be. Her stomach and guts clench in concert. She feels like going to the bathroom to retch, but it’s best to get this over with. Her mind runs over all the projects she has been involved with for the past few years.
Mr. Rutgard, you can’t fire me. I brought in the Gardiner account, which is, like, the biggest account this company has ever seen.
Mr. Rutgard, I would have you know that I scored ‘Excellent’ in my Leadership and Communication skills. I am an ‘ENFJ’ in my Myers-Brigg Personality Score, and I would fit very well in your new organization.
Mr. Rutgard, please! You can’t fire me! I need this job!
But as her feet plod down the passageway to the boardroom, passing familiar people whose faces are now downcast, her hopes start to spiral bottomward . . . and further down, down, down until she can hear them clink against the basement.
What is she going to do in this economy? Everywhere, companies are being downsized. People are losing jobs left, right and center.