Then his eyes find mine. “And what are you planning to contribute today, Romeo, other than that sourpuss attitude on your face?”
I lift my face to him and quirk an eyebrow.
The room draws silent at once.
Mr. Milton squints at me. “The difference between me and you is that I’m paid to have attitude. You’re paid to give me good ideas. And so far, you’re contributing nothing.”
I nod. “Alright. I’ll give you an idea.” I sit forward. “Hit up a gym now and then to blow off steam. Maybe try this fitness company that hired us to do their busywork. Tons of little men like you enjoy going to the gym and feeling big and powerful. That way, you don’t have to take it out on us that all you are is a weak, bitter fellow who’s overly pent-up because his wife’s not putting out.”
His eyes flash indignantly. “Excuse me?”
“I think you heard me. You are one pent-up little tyrannosaurus today.” I shrug as I take hold of my coffee. “Hey, look, I’m just stating facts. Don’t come at me just ‘cause you’re not getting any.”
Silence pierces the air.
Mr. Milton stares at me from across the table.
Frigid, icy, uninterrupted silence.
Until Juan snaps his fingers. “Holy crap, that’s it!” Everyone turns to him. “What Romeo just said! ‘Don’t come at me just ‘cause you’re not getting any.’ That’s perfect for the direction of the campaign!”
At first, no one follows.
Then someone else jumps in. “Oh. You mean … selling the idea that you gotta go to the gym, get buff and sexy, in order to … get some?”
“Yeah!” says Juan. “Like, if you wanna get some, pump some.”
“Get some of this to get some of that,” throws in someone else, starting up a brainstorm.
“Come at me all you want, but at least I’m getting some,” says another guy, to a few chuckles.
As the ideas roll in, the look on Mr. Milton’s face slowly changes. It’s like he forgot I said anything at all. His eyes are open as he listens, seeing the bigger picture. He turns his head to each person, taking in every new idea. In truth, it’s uncertain what he’s making of all of this.
But someone decides to make it very clear what they think: “This is totally juvenile.”
Everyone turns her way.
It’s Prisha.
“I mean, seriously?” She glances at everyone else at the table. “Romeo just insulted Mr. Milton. He wasn’t proposing some brilliant new advertising idea. ‘Get some’? Selling the idea of this gym based on how much sex it’ll get you? That’s so … obscene.”
Juan leans in to the guy next to him. “She’s obviously not gettin’ any.” Everyone hears despite his lowered voice, and the room fills with laughter.
Prisha folds her arms and sits back, unfazed by the mockery. “I don’t like it. I think it’s lazy, I think it’s juvenile, and I think it promotes a … rather depraved and primitive point of view. There is more to life than sex. Why don’t we take the opposite angle? ‘Beauty is more than superficial.’ Or perhaps something health-related? It’s popular nowadays to be fit and healthy. I’m even keen on leaning into frequenting the gym as a trendy fad to do with your girlfriends or guy friends. But I do not think our best foot forward is to sell a gym membership with sex.”
The silence in the room is the only reply she gets.
Piercing, defiant silence.
Until Mr. Milton clears his throat. “Everything today is sold with sex. I like this ‘getting some’ angle. Run with it.” Then he shoots me a look. “Good thinking, Romeo. Even if it was at my expense.” He snorts, cracks a smile, then takes his mug and himself out of the room to let us work.
As everyone begins to explode with new ideas, Prisha stares at the side of my face, dumbfounded.
I just sip my coffee and kick back.
With an inspired room full of talking, chatter, and clacking keyboards, the day comes to a fast end. I get on the elevator while texting my buddy Jonathan that I’m on the way to the gym.
Prisha slips into the elevator the moment before the doors shut, causing them to open again.
We stand side-by-side in silence as the elevator doors decide whether they’re ready to close. It’s unclear if Prisha knew I was already on the elevator or this is a totally unintended situation she just put herself in.
Finally the doors decide to close, then we descend.
The two of us continue standing in silence.
I feel her glance at me. For some reason, I can tell it isn’t a look of hatred. It feels soft somehow. Thoughtful. Almost like she’s trying to see the old me buried deep down somewhere in the stranger she’s sharing an elevator with.
It’s going to take her a while.
When we reach the first floor, I hesitate a moment before stepping out. Prisha walks by my side until she stops at the entrance to Jesse’s Fitness, but doesn’t yet go inside, as I walk on. It’s when I’m just about to leave the building that I hear her call to my back, “Take care of yourself, Rome.”