Free Original Cyn by Sue Margolis Page B

maybe,” Chelsea said, minus her usual smug smile. It occurred to Cyn that for once in her life, Chelsea was scared that her ideas would be found wanting. God alone knew why. They had never been found wanting in the past. Chelsea was clearly taking this promotion thing so seriously that it was starting to get to her. All that stood between her and it was winning the Droolin’ Dream doughnut account. Of course there was always the possibility, Cyn thought, that she, Cyn, might win the account and then the promotion could be hers. Remote as the possibility was, Cyn still had some faith in herself.
    She had never quite understood the way Chelsea’s creative mind worked. At initial briefings when it was announced that a client was looking for a new advertising campaign and that PCW had been invited to pitch for it, Chelsea remained uncharacteristically quiet. While everybody else threw initial thoughts and ideas into the pot, she would simply listen. It was only days later—at the show-and-tell meetings—that Chelsea came into her own and stunned people with her brilliance. Like everybody else at PCW, Cyn assumed that Chelsea simply had one of those brains that worked best when she was alone and not under pressure.
    “Anyway,” Chelsea said, “I should get going. I’ve got some calls to make.” With that she walked off, still looking distracted.
    Cyn sat down at her desk and checked her e-mail. The first was from Keith Geary saying he was going to be in South Korea for at least a couple more weeks and he was sure she wouldn’t mind hanging on to Morris. “Hmm, all the same if I do,” she muttered, thinking about carting Morris all the way home and having him in her kitchen for another fortnight, yakking away at full volume about his lack of a sex life. She wrote a reply to Keith:
    No prob. Me and Morris great pals. Have you managed to get a shag yet? Morris says it’s been three months. XXX Cyn.
    She giggled and pressed
send.
    Then she phoned Anusol. When she finally located the person she needed to speak to—a woman named Lisa Patterson—all she got was her voice mail. The message included her e-mail address. Cyn decided to bash out a quick e-mail. But try as she might, she just couldn’t get the tone right. It was vital not to appear demanding or ungrateful because it could threaten PCW’s relationship with the company. It took nearly an hour before she felt she’d hit the right note. Finally she let it go.
    “
Pile
of mail for you.” Luke, the office runner, was standing next to her holding a stack of letters, which he dumped on her desk.
    “Cheers, Luke,” she said with a smile, refusing to rise to his teasing. Realizing he wasn’t going to get the reaction he wanted, he replaced his headphones, turned his Walkman back on and loped off. When she looked up a few moments later, he was moshing next to the water cooler.
    As she started to open her mail, she noticed Chelsea was on the phone. She seemed quite frantic. Cyn thought maybe a client was giving her a hard time and decided to go over and offer to get her a cup of coffee.
    “Charlie, please,” Chelsea was saying, pressing her eyelids with her fingers. “I know I said it wasn’t for another two days, but things have changed. I really need for you to do this. No, it can’t wait. I’m desperate. Yes, I know it’s the middle of the night in L.A. I’m sorry, but this is the last time. I promise . . . Please, Charlie—for me . . . What do you mean, you can’t? Can’t or won’t? . . . Oh, all right then, screw you.”
    “You look as if you could do with a cuppa.” Chelsea was red in the face. She jumped when she saw Cyn.
    “No, I’m fine,” she snapped. “Totally fine.”
    “You sure?”
    “Perfectly. Why shouldn’t I be?” Cyn was completely mystified. She couldn’t begin to work out what was going on. Chelsea was always so composed and in control. Cyn had never seen her so agitated. “If you say so.” Cyn turned to go.
    “OK,