“Today Alice will be in my office. Have a nice day, ladies and gentlemen!” Nicolas informed everyone mockingly and escorted Alice towards his office.
Michael's eyes darkened. He could feel the blood rushing to his head and turning red with anger as he clenched his fists. He abruptly got up from his chair and walked fast towards Nicolas office. Then he felt a kick again on the same ankle and he crouched down in pain. He surreptitiously began massaging his ankle, before properly tying his shoelaces.
At this moment, it dawned on him that he was acting quite hasty in his actions. He didn’t really have anything, a leverage of sorts, to present himself with in front of Nicolas. If he had entered his office and tried to fight for the promotion, which he had already decided was his, he might have turned out to be on the losing end.
How is that? After all, it was he who was to become the deputy in chief! He had even adapted to his new office. Taking into account any future business meetings, he put in two additional armchairs and completed a large assortment of alcohol in one of the cupboards standing there.
“Please do not disturb us for the next hour.” Added Nicolas before closing the door behind him.
Silence had replaced the earlier boisterous airin the meeting hall. It was long, gloomy and terrifying, to say the least. Finally, it was Thomas who broke it.
“Gentlemen, what's going on?” He had an idiotic expression on his face as he said that. “Do any of you understand any of this?” He asked again, completely confused.
A terrifying silence answered him.
“Gentlemen, what’s with the silence? Did you lose your speech?”
Nobody was able to comment on the events of the last few minutes. They couldn't believe what they had just heard. A long-legged bunny with a shapely ass dancing next to the pipe, as they called her a few moments ago, was to become their boss?! How is this possible?
***
Michael returned to the kitchen with his thoughts. Everything was ready to be served. The delicious scent of spit roasted turkey and mushroom mousse was mingling with the scent of burnt caramel hanging around. It was the only thing that caused him problems.
Whenever he started making caramel, he wanted it to be perfect. It was supposed to have a golden color and a glassy consistency. Unfortunately, there was always something else, besides cooking, that at that particular moment, used to occupy his attention. The ending is always the same: caramel has been fraternizing with fire for too long.
Slightly flushed shoots of Spanish artichokes with truffles, baked cheese and cream tempted not only with their exquisite aroma, but also with a delicious appearance. Vanilla cream made of real milk, eggs, a bit of dark sugar and vanilla was chilling in the refrigerator, not some chemical crap from a teabag.
Once he was satisfied that the kitchen was fine, he carried the dark blue candles to the dining area of the living room. Again and again, he made sure that he remembered everything. Especially for this occasion, he took his large table that could easily accommodate twelve people to the basement.
Today, in the heart of his living room, there was a small, square table covered with a navy blue tablecloth, which he had decorated with a smaller, white, diagonal tablecloth. On it, he had placed two navy blue mats with covers. On the left side of each of them, finely rolled white linen tablecloths decorated with navy blue and silver trim were neatly set.
From the basement, he had also pulled out a white porcelain set with a silver inlay that had been laid unused after he had inherited it from his grandmother. Despite its old age, it looked modern, extravagant, even trendy. He didn't like it much though. Seeing it, brought back too many unpleasant memories. That's why he had packed it a long time ago and taken it to the basement. From then on, when he began to serve the dinners, he often used to give it out on ordinary, supermarket-bought tableware. This time it was supposed to be a really special evening.
He had invited a special person, so he had to accept her with dignity. Nothing else matched the silver platters, so he reached for his grandmother's forgotten service. Old cutlery, which he decided to use in today's culinary spectacle, was also taken out. He scanned the table carefully and was still unhappy.
Finally, he went out into the garden to get some fresh air and calm his thoughts where he returned to the memories.
***
On that fateful day, late in the afternoon, Nicholas finally left his office to announce that he wanted to read the texts for the next edition before the end of his work day. He asked them to upload them. He also added that he wanted to talk to each of them separately to recommend each of the journalists to the new chief.
They were overwhelmed. He had never done that before. In fact, he had never even read their texts before the publication was closed. The next edition didn’t close until the next day, so why did he want it today? They had no articles written. Usually they wrote at the last minute. That was their way of writing. Why should they rush and stress themselves? They still had a day and more specifically, the day and a night. That was a lot of time.
The door to Nicholas' office was still open. There was no crowd. The nervous silence was joined by the chill that had developed between ‘the bosses’ and their subordinates, an unprepared and textless team of ‘pen masters’.
Michael has already managed to recover from the unexpected blow, which for the first time in many years gave him a place in the editorial chic. But that wasn't the end of the surprises and the backstabs.
From the beginning of the magazine's existence, he was the one to decide on the content of subsequent editions. Everyone accepted it, and Nicolas gave him a free hand, emphasizing the great trust in him.
‘What is going on?! They're trying to kick me out of the editorial office?’ He wondered. Not only has he not become deputy in chief, but they also want to get rid of him! But for what?
He hasn't failed at anything lately. Well, maybe a few things, but he was generally doing his job. Maybe not exemplary, as he admitted in spirit, but compared to the rest of the team, he was just an ace.
‘What is Nicolas Williams playing at?’ He wondered, falling into a state of severe panic, which he had last experienced in college before the rhetoric exam.
For as long as he can remember, he and Nicolas have been friends. He hoped it still was the same. He was consoled to be one of the best and oldest journalists in the magazine. Readers of the magazine start with his column, while younger colleagues take his opinion into account and respect the decisions.
Besides, even if Nicolas found a reason, due to their long-term friendship, he would certainly not go so far as to throw away their long-standing friendship to kick him in his face. Also, it would also be difficult to carry out without insulting anyone, even the last reporter from the city department, for they know what it is like running around the marketplaces, looking for holes in the road and questioning the guards.
The only thing that came to his mind that might have been the reason for his removal from the editorial office was that he had the habit of consuming alcohol frequently during working hours. However, the word ‘consuming’ is extremely subtle.
Finally, Thomas Evans, writing about technological and automotive news, charmed by the extraordinary beauty of the new chief editor, got the courage to go to Nicolas’ office and discuss his just finished text about the latest model of the jaguar entering the market.Thomas, upon entering the office, flashed his snow white teeth at the rest of them.The editorial ‘technologist’ was aware of his high ‘market value’ as they used to say in the male society. A large list of material goods, quite a good position in the social elite and a sensational appearance despite the approaching forties made Thomas feel like a chosen one.He was one hundred percent sure that he would be the one who would be given a public appearance at some top venue in the company of an attractive new chief editor. Anyway, the bets have already been placed on it.He entered Nicolas’ office in a great mood. Alice was beaming behind the editor's computer.
The answer surprised an already confused Michael. He knew that his friend was of the type ‘Obligatory until it matters’. He thought, however, that while he was sitting for hours in his newsroom, he must have been surfing on cyberspace, playing stupid games on the Internet and constantly chatting with friends, and that he worked at the last moment, just before the issue of the new number of the magazine was closed.More than once, Michael had seen him chatting with friends; playing online or browsing various websites, watching movies, listening to music… It was only now that he realized that he had never seen him working.“I have just finished!” Proudly announced Simon, their photo editor and journalist in one person, also editorial mocker and court jester. "This is... I mean... I finished this morning!" He added after a moment, seeing the fury on Michael's face.The others started muttering under their breaths that if they sat down
‘Stupid, mean witch!’ Michael repeated in his mind, absolutely enraged. ‘Arrogant, saucy witch! How can I know the topics of my next three columns when I don't even have good stuff for the next one. How the hell do I know what's going to happen tomorrow? How can you even know the subject of your column before it is written?’ He wondered.‘Where did they teach her the principles of journalism? Probably nowhere! She ran over the nape of some well set guy, landed in his bed, and accidentally became chief editor, and now pretends to be highly educated in the field. Witch!’ He was sure she just pretended to be very knowledgeable.‘She has no idea about their hard work, about writing good texts, and she dare to put up yet! And she called herself wise! ‘Will we see if Nicolas will let her write the leading article?’Outraged by the chief editor's tone, he left slamming the door, which upset Alice even more.A
They waited with bated breath for the further development of events. The chauffeur walked slowly around the car, before he courteously opened the back door. Then their new boss appeared before him.They couldn't believe their eyes. An uncomfortable silence descended in the crowded room. None of them was able to comment on this. They thought that it was just their hallucination, the result of an overdose of percentages and a hangover from the last day’s party.How can the new boss afford a jaguar and a chauffeur? What was up? So many questions were stuck in their heads.They suspected that it was Nicolas' trick, who was unable to grasp the mess that had prevailed in the editorial office since the chief assistant had left the competition. They knew that he wanted to teach them a lesson but who was Alice? In addition, this luxury Jaguar haunted them.The next day, Alice was the first to come to the editorial office. It would not be surprising, if not f
“Thank you, gentlemen, for honouring me with your presence! We're starting!” She paused for a moment to give them time to think and analyze the meaning of the words she had spoken.There was no sign of reflection on the tired, sleepy faces. Thomas was yawning incessantly, every now and then covering his mouth with his hand.Michael, with almost navy blue horseshoes under his eyes and mournfully tousled hair, stretched all his muscles, disregarding everyone, especially the limits of decency, as if he had just woken up.Jack was sitting in a rumpled shirt, propping his head with his hands as if it weighed a ton. He tried his best to stay awake, but he kept closing his eyes every now and then, then shaking his head, straightening himself up and trying to keep his posture attentive again.Simon’s eyes were so red and swollen almost halfway down his cheeks that he looked like a panda or as if he had a boxing match the previous night with a he
Around one in the afternoon, the atmosphere turned hot again. Thomas returned to the editorial office with a flushed face and cloudy eyes. As if in a hypnotic trance, he took off his jacket, tossed it casually on the back of his chair, sat down at the computer and began typing.He didn’t take his eyes off the monitor. He looked like a mad scientist making a discovery of life that would revolutionize the views of all mankind.His friends tried to ask him about his impressions of the ride, but to no avail. He didn't answer. He didn’t even react to the taunts. The outside world did not exist for him. He was in another dimension, in a creative trance.After an hour, unusually beaming and still flushed, he got up from his desk and went to Nicolas' office. He only managed to close the door behind him, and Michael immediately appeared in front of them. Ignoring anyone, he tried to eavesdrop, but from what he heard, he understood very little.Concepts
Michael didn’t expect such a reaction. He knew perfectly well what Alex wanted to tell him and what he would inevitably hear. To avoid a controversial discussion on the sensitive topic of women, or rather his attitude towards them, he spread his hands in a gesture of helplessness.He hoped that this time Alex would let go and skip a lecture about his outrageous, even scandalous, rowdy lifestyle that he didn’t accept.“So what's going on?” He asked sincerely, hoping to finally find out the reason for his friend's strange behavior."If the chief editor reads my curriculum vitae, I'll end up in Alaska or the South Pole, so you'd better shut up." Alex said softly.“It won't be that bad! Don't worry! At most, she will send you to the Paris-Dakar race in a Trabant!Alex was in no mood to laugh. On his face, Michael could see a real sadness. He wondered what else he wrote in his resume? For sure, nothing he didn’t know.
“You talk nonsense, man!” Michael answered him. “We're damn good, why would they let go of us?"For insubordination, for anything!" Any reason could be good, wondered Adam. “Do you know how many unemployed journalists there are on the labor market?”Only silence answered him.“Would you like to look for a new job?” Adam turned to Michael with this question. But he didn't wait for an answer:“I don’t! I am quite well here. I have barely bought the apartment, I am going to dive the coral reefs on vacation, and I am paying off the loan. I have enough for me to pay the installments and for a decent life. I don't need anything more to be happy.” He paused for a moment to look at his friend. He could see the confusion painted on their faces.“Only a few of us can get a better job. Don't cheat yourself, gentlemen. I don't want to rot here until retirement, but I have no reason to comp