Penthesilea's Wish [Vol.1]

Chapter Thirty-three

The next morning at ten minutes after eleven, Daniela rushed down the hallway of Wexler Advertizing Solutions. She had had a fitful night, and this was a meeting she really did not want to be late for. As she approached the boardroom she reflected upon how tardiness had always been one of the more negative habits of her nature. Though her joints and muscles still ached from being thrown off Baylor the day before, she had managed to pull herself together with some slight exercises and a light breakfast that morning. For this day she had chosen a tight-fitting, forest green suit with matching high heels. The skirt was a bit short and somewhat out of character for her work, but certainly inline with the way she was feeling these days—more powerful and less controlled by the people around her.

As she approached the closed door she slowed her anxious steps to a casual gait and took a deep breath to calm herself before entering. She ran her fingers tips through her full hair which was hastily styled such that it gave her stature more height and emphasized the classical features of her face. On this day she knew she would not have to knock on the boardroom door, as her presence in that room was expected to be an integral part of the proceedings, at least according to the demands of Mr. Cuomo. These were exactly the situations in life she had most hated and had tried so desperately to avoid since childhood. Why did these moments of anxiety seem to never cease for her? Nevertheless, on this day she was determined to somehow handle matters differently and to take what ever came in stride and to take it head-on.

As she entered the meeting room she smiled at those in attendance, but found the atmosphere awkwardly quiet, its half-dozen participants obviously awaiting her arrival before beginning any formalities. There, seated around the semi-circular table was Mr. Cuomo and his secretary—a perennially young-looking blond with a dour, overly made-up face whom she knew only as Vicki. Next to them was a bald gentleman whom she immediately recognized as the chairman of board of directors at Wexler, Mr. Hadley—a longtime friend of her father's. Seated more or less across from these familiar faces were the two guests donning very different attire, scheduled and ready to make their business presentation that morning concerning hi-definition, video streaming and the pop-up ads. A vacant chair was positioned—obviously for her, strategically next to the presenters from StreamStar Video Productions.

The man to whom she was to be seated closest suddenly stood and introduced himself as Bryant Sorrel, the technical director of StreamStar. He was young, around her own age, fair-haired, and projected a healthy, tan face—possibly an active skier or surfer in his free time, Daniela thought. Unlike his counterpart, he was comfortably dressed, wearing a pair of jeans with his corduroy coat and dark blue tie. His associate was older and wore a three piece charcoal suit, somehow incongruent and unpleasantly reminiscent of her father's stuffy attire.

"Gentlemen, this is Daniela Collins, our graphic arts director," Mr. Cuomo pleasantly announced, though too loudly for such a small gathering. He interjected this before Daniela could speak or take her seat. She looked across the board table at her boss and could see his eyes widen in a cryptic scolding manner for her tardiness.

Daniela cleared her throat quietly. "I'm . . . very pleased to meet you," she stated, mostly to Mr. Sorrel. The greeting came out unexpectedly in the subdued voice she had come to hate. It occurred to her that it had always been a voice of weakness and one she should have changed years ago. Daniela nodded at Mr. Sorrel, who stood, acknowledging her presence. She noticed immediately that his eyes were a striking grayish blue. She then looked back at the more sinister gaze of Mr. Cuomo. The older, white-mustachioed man, seated to the right of Mr. Sorrel remained in his executive chair and extended a hand to her as she moved near him to take her position.

"Jack Cross, Daniela," he offered. "Sales manager here for the StreamStar firm?" He spoke with a contrived enthusiasm, also a little too loudly, and with an almost painful grip of her hand.