Chapter Text
I tap my foot nervously and check my watch. Five to nine. If I’m late to Penny’s big presentation, she will kill me for sure. She’s been obsessed with this presentation ever since Davy assigned her to be lead on this project. She’s certain a stellar performance on this project could be her ticket to a big promotion.
Penny’s absolutely desperate to be the youngest woman ever appointed to a Deputy Director position in the history of Watford Industries. It’s practically the only thing she ever talks about. I’m sure she will be, too. She’s the most brilliant person I know. But for all her undeniable drive to break the glass ceiling, she’s a nervous public speaker, at least for speeches as important as this. There’s no need for a lowly salesperson like me to attend today’s presentation, but she says I’m her lucky charm.
And now I’m going to be late for her big presentation. No, I won’t, I tell myself. If the lift doesn’t stop on any floors between here and the nineteenth, then I can still make it.
“And we can’t stop. And we won’t stop.” I sing to myself. Pen would probably laugh at me for singing Miley Cyrus lyrics in the lift, but I’ve always been convinced that words have power.
But perhaps not enough power this time. The lift stops at the fifteenth floor. “Bugger me” I curse aloud just as the doors open for that cute dark haired bloke from Accounting. He smirks and reaches a pointer finger toward the lift buttons, his finger hovering briefly over the already-lit “19” button before dropping his hand.
Oh, bugger me, I think. Not Cute Accounting Bloke. Not today. Merlin, tell me he’s not coming to Penny’s presentation. He’s always staring at me during meetings, clearly plotting something. I haven’t figured out what it is yet, but I will.
The lift finally starts moving again. 16… 17… 18… The lift lurches to a stop.
Merlin, no! Not now, not today! I press the “19” button over and over in a panic. If the lift doesn’t start moving soon, there is no way I will make it to Penny’s presentation on time. Move! Move, damn it, move!
“Bloody brilliant. I’ve always wanted to die on my birthday,” I mutter.
“Die? Who’s dying? We’re not going to die. People don’t die stuck in lifts, do they?” Cute Accounting Bloke asks. I turn to face him. He looks terrified. His face looks practically grey. His eyes dart back and forth. I think he might be hyperventilating. I’ve never seen him like this. He’s usually so cool.
“No, er… I don’t think so. That is… we’re not going to die. I’m sure it’s going to start up again any minute. It’s my roommate who will kill me if I’m late to her presentation,” I explain. For some reason I’m overcome by an impulse to reassure him. “We’ll be fine. The lifts get stuck all the time in this bloody old building. I’m sure they’ll fix it any moment now.”
He runs a hand through his hair. “It’s not… I’m not… fond… of tight spaces.” He’s definitely hyperventilating.
“Oi, you’re OK, we’re OK. Just listen to me. Look at my face. Ignore the rest.” I put my hands on his shoulders. “I’m Simon. Simon Snow.”
He looks at me, wild-eyed. “I know. I know you.” I could swear I almost detect a blush on his face before he suddenly straightens and his expression changes to a sneer. “You’re the idiot from sales whose accounts I always have to correct.”
“P-pardon?” I sputter, dropping my hands.
“For someone whose job it is to sell things, you’ve lost the company more money than you could possibly have ever brought in – or you would have, if I hadn’t found and fixed all your mistakes,” he declares imperiously.
“You… prat!” I yell. “I was trying to help you!”
“By ensuring my job security with a constant stream of errors for me to fix? Thanks, Snow, that’s generous of you,” he laughs.
“I knew you were plotting something!” I declare.
“…‘Plotting?’” he asks, cocking an eyebrow.
“Are you out for my job?” I continue. “Is that why you’re coming to Penny’s presentation?”
“Your job?” he scoffs at me. “Snow, you do realize, don’t you, that I’m three pay grades above you? But yes, I’m out for your job. And whose presentation?”
“Penelope Bunce’s presentation to Davy Mage on the strategic benefits of pursuing a hostile takeover of the Grimm-Pitch Family Foundation.” I get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach as his eyes go wide. “That… is why you’re taking the lift to nineteen, isn’t it?”
He smirks again. “Actually, I’m meeting a friend for coffee. But thanks for that bit of insider information. I’m sorry, I have you at a disadvantage, haven’t I? I know who you are through your… illustrious work ethic… but I don’t believe we’ve ever been properly introduced, have we?” He sticks out his hand. “I’m Baz. Basilton Grimm-Pitch.”
Penny. Is going. To kill me.
The lift lurches again and starts moving. Thank Merlin, at least one thing is going right. If I run, I should make it to the conference room before Penny finishes her intro slides. Maybe I can salvage something from this disaster. It’s only nine, and it’s already shaped up to be the worst birthday ever. The only thing that could possibly make today worse would be if…
The doors of the lift slide open to reveal my ex standing in the hall. Baz’s face lights up into a huge smile.
“Ags! We have much to talk about.”
Bugger. Me.