3

By midweek, Ayala’s mind raced with anxiety as she sat alone in her corner office, which now felt too big. Remi had only been on staff for three days, and Ayala felt like the culture had changed overnight. Ayala wasn’t sure what Remi actually DID at Thompson Cookware, all she SEEMED to do was walk around and gossip with co-workers, their laughter echoing through the 38th floor. Remi was single handily lowering production and productivity every minute, and yet, everyone seemed happier.

Remi never visited Ayala in her office like she did everyone else. At first, Ayala was grateful, but later, she felt left out, as if she were being deliberately ignored. She also had an eerie feeling when she walked through the floor, like her co-workers were starting to look at her differently; that somehow, their perceptions of her had changed.

Ayala had worked so hard to be treated like an equal here. And in three short days, she felt more like an outsider than she had felt in over a decade.

She kept trying to think of a way to stand up to Remi, but the only other time she had to stand up to a bully was back in high school…and she was a much bigger risk taker back then. Even then, that led to what she did in college, and that was such a close call that she had made a promise to herself – and without words, to her mother, – that she vowed never to break.

As those visceral memories rushed back to Ayala, she noticed her hand had wandered between her thighs, gently applying pressure to the hood of her mound. She quickly snapped her hand back and shook her head, chastising herself quietly.

“No, not that. I’m not doing THAT.” Ayala said to herself, trying to focus her mind on other thoughts.

At least Lily was still her friend, she told herself to get herself back on track. She would come in, as always, gossip, hug, and wait for the “big day” on Friday when the next Sales Lead would be named.

…The same day as that damned potluck.

Ayala decided to just play it cool, not overreact, and celebrate with a nice dinner and an extra glass of wine come Fri-Yay. She was the best candidate, had the most tenure, and best of all, she had a brand-new product that would revolutionize Thompson Cookware for years to come. She would celebrate, and then, as she took power next week, she would deal with Remi.

She nodded to herself, her plan of attack finally made, as Lily walked in for their daily gossip break.

“Um…have you SEEN what Remi is wearing today?” Lily said in a hushed tone.

“Yesterday’s latest fashion?” Ayala quipped, feigning not breaking her attention from her computer.

“You COULD say that, actually. But, it’s uh, not exactly business professional.” Lily said, her voice filled adrenaline.

“Okay, you’ve got me. What is it?” Ayala said, slightly annoyed.

Lily hesitated to speak. She just stood, blankly, before she quickly rushed over and whispered in Ayala’s ear.

Ayala’s doe eyes widened with disbelief, and she shot Lily a look, who could only nod quietly in response.

Ayala stood and rushed out of her office, her stomach turning in knots as she power-walked towards the sound of Remi and the laughter that surrounded her. She could feel her hands shake, and a strange rush of adrenaline as she walked up to Remi while she held court with a gathering of Ayala’s male colleagues. Ayala felt her jaw go slack as she fully took in the sight.

“Oh, leave your mouth like that any longer, Miss Dinner, and I’m going to stuff an apple in it.” Remi quipped. Remi looked over at the men and nodded, and they laughed in response, a primal joy on their faces.

Ayala felt her jaw clench, and her hand turn into a fist, as she tried to process what she was seeing. She just couldn’t find the words.

“It’s Diner.” Ayala declared, standing her ground.

“So you keep insisting, little doe.” Remi breathily said.

Ayala felt frozen and could only watch as Remi took that now familiar saunter over, bursting through her personal bubble once more, and felt all of her emotions from Monday rushed back, including the moistness between her legs.

“WHAT!? If THIS keeps you warm, why shouldn’t it keep me warm?” Remi quipped again, doing a twirl, the men cheering in approval.

Ayala watched in disbelief as Remi’s jacket floated in the wind, clearly made from…the pelt of a Dyani. No, it wasn’t even a jacket, Ayala noted, as it only covered to Remi’s midriff. This poor Dyani doe had been reduced to a fashion accessory, and the only part of her that remained served no functional purpose other than as Remi’s trophy.

“A doe just like me” Ayala allowed herself to think, a rush of arousal coming over her. She slowly focused back into reality as her eyes scanned the pattern of the spots, and noted they seemed so familiar – for a second, Ayala was convinced she knew whoever this once was. But, any scent, and trace of her former identity were long gone, reduced to being Remi’s conversation piece.

Ayala stared blankly, only able to mumble the word “who” as Remi leaned in so close she could taste Ayala’s sweat.

“Just so you know, this wasn’t a hand me down…I harvested her myself.” Remi declared, her lips parting to show her bleached white, toothy grin.

Ayala did not stand for this harassment another second. She rushed to Mr. Thompson’s office, hearing the catcalls of her peers behind her as she crashed through his door. Once she saw the look of shock on his face, the disbelief of her interruption, she realized she’d started on the wrong foot.

“I’m sorry to burst in like this, really.” Ayala said, trying to steady herself, find her confidence.

“No, no, Ayala, please…” Mr. Thompson said, a tone of concern in his voice. “Come in. What’s bothering you so much that you felt you had to barge in like this? You’re not a wild animal, are you?”

Ayala felt herself choke back a tear. Mr. Thompson had never spoken to her like that, ever. She snuck a glance at the portrait of his grandfather, and could swear it was staring directly at her.

“It’s just…” Ayala struggled to find her footing, to deliver the message that was needed before it was too late. “This Remi woman, she’s-”

“Oh, our new Director of PC. What do you think of her?” Mr. Thompson casually interrupted, leaning in, studying Ayala.

“She’s…she’s…” Ayala found herself searching for the right words, but decided to choose any words – she had to get this out – the line in the sand had to be drawn. This was her moment to right the ship before everything went terribly wrong.

“She’s racist against Dyani, She’s dividing up our office, She’s spreading hate, She’s…”

“Whoa, whoa, WHOA.” Mr. Thompson said, putting a hand out. Ayala stepped back, feeling like he was trying to steady her like a horse. “Where do you get off saying things like that, Ayala? It’s not like you. I’m used to you being so much more…docile.” he said.

“DOCILE?!” Ayala said, with a bewildered look in her eyes. How did he see her? Did Remi get to him too, or was he always this way and she just didn’t see it?

“Yes, well, what I meant to say was, well…” Mr. Thompson stammered out, before pausing to find the correct words, as she had seen many times before. But, this time, she saw something different - he shook his head, a “no” to his own thoughts.

“My point is, we hired Remi because people are TIRED of having to clarify themselves when they are simply misunderstood. It’s like Remi has been teaching us –the RIGHT thing to do is treat everyone how they SHOULD be treated.” He said aggressively, a sneer in his eye.

“But, yes, but even saying THAT is condescending to people like me…” Ayala lamented.

“Oh, is it now? Do you expect special treatment because you’re a Dyani?” he rebuffed. “We should treat EVERYONE the right way, the way they SHOULD be treated, period.”

“How is the right way when she’s wearing a Dyani skin jacket to work?!” Ayala fired back.

“Well…I could see how that would bother you…” Mr. Thompson said, nodding, his gaze wandering over to the portraits of his family. He stared quietly at them for a moment, before nodding, and turned back to face Ayala. She noticed the change in him.

“But, she earned that jacket, fair and square. That’s the law. And Miss Diner, the laws in this world are changing.” He said, leaning in, his glance becoming less friendly by the second. “People are tired of having to worry about everyone else’s feelings just to get a point across. That goes for you, this team, and ALL of our customers. We as a company need to decide where we stand and what kind of message we are sending. People want progressive – they want NOW – and what’s *in* now is to not be afraid to express yourself.”

Ayala could not believe what she was hearing

“So if Miss Remi wants to express herself with a fur coat, then that’s PC. You either need to get with the times, or…”

Mr. Thompson paused, and she swore she saw him literally bite his tongue to hold back what he wanted to say versus what he would say. She was relieved for a second there was still some consideration in this world.

“…you can get with the times, or you can get out.” He said coldly.

That last part hit her like a ton of bricks. Earlier this week, she was a shoo-in for the Sales Lead position. Now, she was feeling expendable.

No, somehow, she felt his perception of her was somehow worse.

Ayala slowly backpedaled, her confidence wiped out. She felt weightless, unaware of her own body. She forced a professional smile, and while looking down at the floor, tried to speak calmly.

“I understand, Sir. I will get with the times. I will do better.” Ayala lamented.

“Good. I’m looking forward to seeing you at this potluck Friday. It should clear up any doubt you have on what Remi is here to do and what her intentions really are – to bring this team together under a common purpose.”