Beyond Love

Rethink

[A. Dempsey]

I'd rushed down to the location only after dropping Vanille off at school and flagging down a cab willing to take me to the interchange where I could catch a train to the city, the million-dollar report in my arms. While it certainly did not cost a crippling number of zeroes in my bank account, I couldn't deny that a reserved table for five at Monsieur Moreau's patisserie on an unemployed man's tab was not the greatest idea.

The adrenaline rush anticipatory of something out of this world and completely beyond my comfort zone was beginning to make my head spin along with the number of buttons on the operating panel of the building's lift. Lia's text had said that the meeting would be held at the thirty-fourth floor.

By the time I'd conditioned my mind and placed everything I had to say in a chronological list, I was at the doorstep of a room labelled 'Conference'. Debating whether or not knocking was appropriate—since my very presence would, already, be a major shock factor for the team—I paused and hovered my knuckles over the wood, thinking twice before eventually throwing all manners out of the window and going straight for the doorknob.

"... and as for the three main competitors for the annual pri—" Good heavens. Lia didn't say a thing about all three judges being present.

I stood in the doorway, returning the several stunned gazes of what I supposed would be my team of writers and editors two weeks ago. Including the three organizers of the bake share who were, secretly, the main judges for the annual Baker's Times prize.

"Alfred," Gerard was the first to speak. "What... what are you doing here?"

I shuffled past the door, clearing my throat again and fixing my tie in the process. "Good morning—"

"Afternoon."

"Afternoon," I corrected myself without stumbling. Nervousness was an unusual feeling. "Apologies for the unprecedented visit, and if you were in the middle of things that I'd rudely interrupted. I am here for several reasons—one of them being the final decision of the pre-selected winner, which I was aware of thanks to Lia—and I would really appreciate it if you hear what I have to say. It is, unfortunately, rather urgent and I cannot wait till the meeting is over. Although, well, I am aware that you are perfectly capable of declining but on the account of our years together, as the pioneers of the Times. Well. I'd appreciate your attention for five minutes."

Halfway through, I'd noticed my excessive usage of the term 'well' which, although was the only indication of my unease, felt immensely childish and unprepared. I could only hope that they were all too surprised to notice.

"I mean," Kelly, the assistant chief editor, had began with a wry smile. "If it's only five minutes but knowing you, Alfred, you're going to take thirty. Though I can't say you haven't piqued our curiosity. Five years of working together and I've never seen your tie so crooked!"

Behind her, I could tell Lia was trying hard not to laugh. Ruth on the other hand, brought up a recent tip-off by one of the members of the research team who had informed her of my coming today.

"I would like to hear what you have to say," she ended with a nod, turning to the three judges to seek for their opinion. Thankfully, they didn't seem to mind.

I heaved a sigh of relief. "Thank you. Again, I am very sorry for interrupting and I know this is insane and that I no longer have a say in the company or whichever article you choose to put out but," I produced the report, encased in a folder. "I would like to propose a consideration of this particular bakery, having examined all thirteen portfolios of the nominated few and done my thorough research."