Clara Ampleforth loves what her life must look like from the outside. She loves the lingerie company she should already be in control of. She loves the engagement ring that sits on her finger, from a man who treats her like another piece of furnitur...
"And that, truly, is the incredible thing about lingerie - the way in which it transforms women's bodies and confidence. With our expansion throughout North America, starting in New York, I think that Maxwells will become a company that rivals Victoria's Secret, Agent Provocateur, Rigby & Peller... With my place on the board, I believe that these next few steps could see us take our place at the top where we belong."
The room was silent as Clara clicked through to her last slide, blood red nail sharp enough to pierce the soft plastic on the remote. She cleared her throat, and turned to face the long table of what felt like faceless men staring back at her. Each man looked the same, white with black suits and barely any difference in how they were dressed. The only face that stuck out was the face of Dorothy Ampleforth, O.B.E. Clara would pick that face out of any crowd, considering it was the face of her mother. It was often remarked upon how similar they looked, both with their rounded faces and sharp cheekbones. Clara had received her mother's mousey colouring, and her addiction to hair bleach - Dorothy's hair was almost icy blonde, with Clara favouring a warmer blonde. Their eyes though, that was where their similarities ended. Clara's green eyes were like moss, deep and glassy. Dorothy's eyes were blue, cutting like ice falling from a rooftop.
Dorothy's eyes seemed to be especially sharp today as Clara stood under her glaze. The lack of questions made her heart thump uncomfortably, no let up from the pressure it had been under for the last hour. Surely someone must have a question about forecasts, or franchise, or... well, maybe where her office would be once she joined the board. Clara had joined the family business straight out of university, and here she was four years later. A senior designer at 25, lovely. But it wasn't the plan, and her mother knew this. Clara wanted to be a name within the business, more than a girl with an instagram and a sketchbook - it was her birthright. Her mother's maiden name business being associated with anyone other than her only daughter? Nothing short of sacrilege.
Every year her mother had told her, and told her, she wasn't ready to join the board. In the first few years, Clara had understood - a girl of twenty two on the board of a brand bringing in millions in revenue? It made business sense. But as her social media grew and grew, and she could see the clear correlation of sales figures verses her instagram likes, she began to push back. She was bringing in those sales. She was doing it. She deserved a seat at the table, at the very least.
"I think we've seen all we need to." Her mother's voice broke through the air in the room, a cracking whip that she flinched back at slightly. "Clara, if you would?"
Clara nodded quickly, placing the remote down with a slight clatter and gave a pained smile to the faceless men, before heading to the door of the conference room and out.
Fucked it. Fucked it, fucked it, fucked it.
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|| Montecarlo, Monaco || 10th January 2024
It was only a few days after signing a multi year deal with Ferrari that news broke that Charles would no longer be their first driver - he just wished that could have been explained to him before he made that stupid video, with the stupid piano, and the stupid voiceover.
Wall to wall coverage seemed to plaster Carlos' face next to Fred's, a gleeful symphony which seemed to follow Charles from room to room around his apartment. The endless voiceovers started with the announcements that Carlos would be the first driver for the season, following his success in the previous season. Who were they kidding? No-one but Max had really been successful last season, wiping the floor with all of them.
"There will be a lot of changes for us this season." The news readers all seemed to read the announcement in the same upbeat tone, like the world really gave a shit about the thoughts of a team principal who couldn't keep his own hair. "We are so excited to have Carlos step us as our first driver and lead us." Charles had been running, Alexandra a few steps behind when the noise had filtered through his headphones like an emergency alert to send him into a bunker. Was this really how he was going to find out that he was no longer the priority of Ferrari? Catching his breath on the streets of Montecarlo during the winter break, nursing a hangover and pretending he was still into the girl he'd cheated on the last one with?
The run had ended pretty shortly after that, and Charles had retreated back to the safety of the apartment block. He had wanted to call Carlos, shout down the phone at him, but he'd been in this game long enough to know that this was nothing to do with Carlos. If Charles had won a race, then maybe he too would have been in with a chance to keep the top seat. Apparently, fifth place in the Drivers Standings wasn't enough for them - even though Carlos was six points behind him, even with a Grand Prix win. It wasn't his fault he was currently carrying more bad luck than the other nineteen drivers combined. He had watched all his interviews from the past season, and seen how the light had slightly dimmed each time. Fuck Ferrari for doing this to him. Fuck them for making him think he was their priority and then taking it all away.
The part that made him angriest was the fact that no-one had the guts to tell him. He'd found out through a Sky News alert. Alexandra didn't understand, especially considering he didn't have the brain capacity for her at a time where he needed to focus entirely on himself. Although he never had much focus for her anyway at the moment, with her constant demands for reassurance and tendency to play the silent treatment. She'd picked a fight with him over something inconsequential a few days after the announcement, and he'd told her to leave. He hadn't seen her since.
Maybe I need some space from everyone. Space to breathe.
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