Agency

In Which Allegra's Self-Preservation Instincts Kick In

also Monday afternoon

Allegra Wood-Crosbie, originally of the royal borough of Kensington, London, United Kingdom, The World, believed in self-determination, drive, and fact-based decision making.

She did not believe in fate, waiting for the inevitable, or settling for less than she felt she deserved.

This rigid belief-system is exactly the thing that had sped her ascent up the professional ladder. It's what had brought her to Canada. And it would be what ensured her clean escape now.

The moment that insipid copywriter stood and announced that he knew something was the moment Allegra decided to leave. Her self-preservation instinct kicked in. Without knowing exactly what or how Martin knew, she understood that she couldn't risk it coming out. Not without jeopardizing her career.

Now, if she'd been a man who'd had an affair with a subordinate, there were any number of possible outcomes that didn't involve the loss of reputation and livelihood. She'd seen male executives engage in all kinds of inter-office shenanigans over the years, and not one of them had ever been sacked over it. If anything, they were slapped on the wrist, called a naughty boy and, only in the most extreme case, sent to an outpost office for a brief period of reflection. But, as she was a woman in a position of power -- and already, therefore, morally suspect -- news of her affair would have more severe consequences.

Yes, she was alarmed by how nearly her indiscretion had been made public. However, it did one no good to succumb to fear. What was important was to get ahead of the situation and, in this way, control the outcome.

Allegra picked up her desk phone and telephoned her boss Archie back in London.

He answered. "Allegra, twice in one day. What unexpected pleasure is this? Do you have another enthusiastic Pharma CEO on the line with you?"

Archie's laugh boomed across the Atlantic. She could hear the clatter of a busy pub behind him. It was well into the evening hours there, and it was common for the executives to meet after work for pints that often extended past the supper hour and on to last orders. Given the time there, it was quite likely that Archie was bladdered. That would make him easier to manage.

"No, Archie, just me on the line. Work-related though. I need a favour."

"Hang on, love, let me get to the gents. Quieter in there. Can barely hear you."

She waited patiently for the public din to give way to the sound of Archie pissing in the urinal.

"Go on then," he said heartily. "How can I help?"

"Listen, I'll get straight to the point," she said pertly. "I'm looking for a transfer. I think you'll agree, things are shaping up in the Toronto office. Billings are up, books are looking good."

"A transfer? Allegra, love, you only just got there. Give it a minute," he chortled, zipping up his fly.

"I don't like it here, Archie. It's a backwater. The people are..."

"Don't tell me. You've slept with another poor married slob, haven't you? And his wife's found out," he snickered. "Better have an eye, love. I've heard the women all carry rifles out there. Moose hunters."

"This isn't a joke, Archie. I'm asking you to approve a transfer, that's all. After everything that was between us..."

"Hold it, hold it. Don't go dredging all that up again," he slurred just slightly. "Messy stuff, that. Bad situation. Disaster if you hadn't left."

"Well, aren't you lucky that I did? How lucky were you, exactly, Archie? Were you broken-hearted when I left... or just relieved?"

There was a cowed silence on the end of the line. After a moment, he mumbled,  "Don't start all this again, Allegra."