The Cowboy's Girl

Chapter 1

I'm sat with my legs crossed facing a white woman with dreadlocks and a hamsa tattoo in the middle of her chest. The room is dimly lit by a candle that flickers between us, casting shadows on the walls and it smells of incense, the blend of sandalwood and something bitter makes me want to sneeze.

"You're a worthless piece of shit," she says, breaking the silence. "Your managers are right, you're terrible at your job."

Granted, I paid her to say this but now that I'm actually sitting in her yoga studio, I wonder if I hate myself, if a deep part of my subconscious signed up to this 'Scream Therapy' class to punish myself for having a mental breakdown at work last week.

* * *

Last Week

I smooth down my pencil dress with sweaty hands backstage. It already falls past my knees but I can't shake the anxiety that it'll ride up when I'm standing in front of everyone. I peek around the curtain and see a massive crowd mingling in small groups, their chatter rises above the soft jazz orchestra band playing in the corner.

My manager, Julia, grips my arm and pulls me back, her red acrylics dig into my skin. "I want you close when we go out there. We need to present a united front. That'll look good in front of the investors."

I nod and practice my lines for the hundredth time in my head, knowing that tonight's presentation is my golden ticket to a partnership at the firm— the youngest in the industry!

A young tech assistant fiddles with our mics, hiding them in the straps of our dresses. After a few adjustments, she gives a thumbs-up to someone in the wings.

"Don't make me look like an idiot, Saskia," she warns while applying red lipstick.

I swallow my annoyance and nod again, determined not to let her rattle me.

The assistant starts a silent countdown with her fingers from 5. When she closes her hand into a fist, we walk on stage, greeted by a huge round of applause.

"Thank you all so much for being here," Julia charms, "I'm joined on stage by my brilliant analyst, who'll be talking us through the data!'

I manage a shaky wave, my heart pounding. I try to stand as close as possible, swiping through the presentation on the iPad connected to the large projector behind us.

As much as I dislike Julia– and I do– I can't help but feel impressed with how she commands the stage. She exudes so much charisma, I start to believe that all the stress she put me through to make this presentation only for her not to bother to read it thoroughly, all that stress, was worth it.

"Now I'll pass it over to Saskia, who'll talk us through the charts. God knows I'm terrible at it, I still don't know how I got this job," she jokes and the room laps it up, laughing.

I clear my throat and begin, 'when we're looking at graphs it's so important to factor in how our customers use our online banking app–'

"Saskia?" Julia interrupts with a performative smile. She might be smiling but the subtle tilt of her head is warning me to 'get it together.'

I'm confused. Did I say something wrong?

I look at the crowd and read worry in their expression and it's then I realise that I haven't actually said anything out loud since Julia handed it over to me. I try to speak but nothing comes out, it's like my lips have been sewn shut.

Panic creeps in, tightening my chest. The crowd is laughing at me now, taunting me and I can barely breathe. My breaths come in shallow, uneven gasps and the room starts closing in on me.