- I believe this is a way to keep the finance department leveraging its results in a balanced and profitable way...
The voice of James, the CFO, reaches me as if from afar, as my eyes are fixed on the cell phone in my hands, which I keep strategically hidden under the conference room table while the CFO explains his plans for the sector.
No one needs to know that I'm sneaking a peek at the security cameras I popped in the house after we hired a nanny to take care of Penelope. Not that it's not perfectly normal for a caring mother—even a brilliant executive—to check in on her baby from time to time.
I mean, I've been spying since I joined the meeting, guess what? About forty minutes?
The truth is, those weekly meetings that Steve invents suck! And in my view as a very visionary and sagacious executive, that time could be spent on much more interesting activities.
I can already make a mental list of what we could do in those almost four hours:
_ I could have coffee at Starbucks while I read the latest Cosmopolitan article "How to be an exemplary mother and a sex queen" (not that I'm not an exemplary mother and very good at sex, of course, but it's always good to improve our skills. As Steve says, "We should never stop until we're the best.")
_ Do the manicure. I look discreetly at my red nail polish chipped at the tip. Inadmissible! The truth is that this life as a badass executive and perfect mother takes a lot of time, and you can't take care of your appearance with the same care as before. I think it would be great if we had a manicure department within DBS. Yea! It would be amazing. Maybe we should take out the finance department (so I wouldn't have to keep listening to the boring James go on and on - Vampire Mark from HR is almost asleep, poor thing!) and put some manicurists in there. It would be a great space. And maybe a masseuse? Or a hairdresser? Rachel's hair dye is really in need of a touch up, I notice my fellow marketing manager next to me.
_ Or the best idea of all: having sex with Steve in his room. This is for sure the best of all the best ideas in the world and...
- I think you need to be more precise, James.
Steve's voice snaps me out of my reverie and I lift my head for a moment, feigning interest. James wrings his hands, a little nervous at Steve's reproachful tone, and starts stuttering trying to explain who knows what Steve is demanding.
Poor James! Doesn't he know that Steve is a dick in the ass and that he talks just to prove that he has to have the last word and always be right?
Well, I've known this for a long time, so I lower my head and focus my attention on the phone again.
I mute the camera, which was in the baby's room, because nothing happened there, and I find the nanny, Irina, walking into the kitchen with Penelope on her lap.
Penelope is now four months old and looking so beautiful and smart. I sigh, as usual, still delighted that that beautiful baby has come out of me - and without forever damaging my vagina, let's stress. Although I spent almost 24 hours in labor, in the end Penelope was born very well and my lower parts returned to normal without any problems, thank you.
Vaginal transplant is something that hasn't been invented yet!
I watch Irina put the child in the stroller and turn to get something from the fridge.
Irina is a woman in her sixties, of Russian origin, with forty years of experience as a nanny. She had even worked with a duke! I thought it was very thin, even more so when she told me on the day of the
interview that he once knew the queen. Of course I had to hire her.
It's not every day you meet a nanny with royal connections!
Only I didn't have time to stay with her at home for a while so she could check if she was really adapting to Penelope and if she was an excellent nanny, as her resume said.
When I raised my concern to Steve, he said that he had checked all references and that the nanny was qualified.
But he couldn't help but express some concern that the woman was Russian.
And God forbid anyone calling me xenophobic! Let's make it clear that I like foreigners a lot. I even voted against Brexit! I even participated in a march at the time with Holly and Hill and was almost arrested for contempt of authority when I yelled at a guard.
Luckily the guard was really cute and it wasn't hard to play a charm and in the end we ended up going to a pub and it was the first time I had sex with an officer and...
Well, that's in the past, I glance at Steve from a few chairs away, as if he can hear my thoughts, which is ridiculous, obviously. He's got his attention on James still.
Anyway, I love foreigners - especially if they're hot like Justin's boyfriend Miguel - but every time Irina talks to me with thataccent I remember the James Bond movies my dad watched with all those evil Russian spies so fashionable in the Cold War.
Okay, we're not in the Cold War anymore, but what if Irina is a spy who is in England to spy on tech executives like Steve and I?
And worse, what if she's in the country to indoctrinate children? What if she indoctrinated Penelope? What if my daughter became a little Russian spy, spying on her friends at school while she called her Russian cronies comrade and praised an image of Stalin?
I shudder in horror.
So I decide to keep an eye on Irina Ivanov.
I bow my head again as James continues to stutter to Steve and Irina has Penelope on her lap, giving him a bottle. I can't help a wave of jealousy taking over me as I watch Penelope smile at the nanny completely at ease - the traitor!
Couldn't you miss me a little bit? Open the scream when the nanny tried to give you a bottle, after all, sucking on my breasts is so much more interesting?
- Natasha?
I start to hear Steve calling me and I look up, stunned.
- What?
- Your time. Steve raises his eyebrows impatiently and I can tell from his irritated expression that he should have been calling me for a while.
- Oh, right...
I stand up. And I grab my laptop, heading to the front of the room. I feel Steve's eyes on me and I stare back at him with a "what now?" expression.
Which he reciprocates with an "I know what I was doing" expression.
Yes, Steve and I may have been together for a little over a year, but we've already developed a very peculiar form of silent conversation that any elderly couple would envy.
Sometimes it was even really cool, like when I wanted to get away from his sister's boring conversation at family dinners and Steve managed to take me away, I just had to give him a look of "if Hope talks about the fucking orchids one more time" from your garden I'm going to stick this fork in my eye" and Steve quickly understood that I wanted to leave.
But when he caught me doing something, which - in his view, let's be clear - was reprehensible, it was hard for me to get away with it.
But I'm also good at faking dementia when necessary, so I look away from my notebook and find my presentation, which pops up on the screen behind me, and before I start, I also open a screen with footage from my home security camera, to give a sneak peek every now and then.
- Natasha, we don't have all day - Steve grumbles impatiently.
I shoot a "Do you have to talk to myself like this?" look. which Steve promptly ignores.
Typical.
- Last year, we obtained excellent numbers and I believe that we should maintain some strategies that worked and increase them, such as Editorial Mídia Pitching, which greatly increased our brand recognition and website traffic, and we also established the DBS brand as an expert in your field...
I keep talking and talking, because I have that presentation on the tip of my tongue and it's fabulous, not even a boring and demanding person like Steve can fault it.
So, while I explain the new PR strategies, I take the opportunity to take a peek at the camera at home. Irina is opening the door and a man enters the kitchen.
Wait? Who's that?
He wears a uniform or something. I zoom in on the screen and I can't identify where the uniform is from. Irina talks to the man who is fiddling with something on the kitchen phone line.
My God, what if it's Irina's henchman tapping our phones?
I still get shivers of horror when I remember the scandal of Charles' recorded conversations with Camila, at the time still the prince's lover - married to Diana! -in which he said he wanted to be her Tampax.
Compassion!
I try to remember if Steve and I ever had any nasty phone conversations, but I can't remember. And if we did, it was by cell phone.
Even so, if this guy is tapping my phone I'm going to end his perestroika race!
I immediately worry about Penelope. A closer look and I realize she's not in the kitchen. I switch to the bedroom camera and Penelope is in her crib and starts crying. I turn the camera back to the kitchen, where Irina is now probably walking away to Penelope's room, with the man behind her.
Wait, what do you mean?
Forgetting where I am, I turn up the volume to hear what they are saying and the entire room is startled as a high-pitched baby cry spreads throughout the room.
- Oh shit! - I press the button to decrease the volume and, nervous, I can only increase it more.
- Natasha, what the fuck?... - Steve yells.
- I'm sorry, I don't know what it is...
In one jump Steve is beside me, turning the sound away and his gaze falls on the screen, several images of our house, including the one in which Irina soothes Penelope who is still crying and her spy partner is using the phone in the living room.
Steve glares at me.
I stare back at him with my best don't start a fight in front of all the fuemployees".
And Steve gives me a "this will pay off" expression.
Oh damn.
- Well, I think you already showed us your strategies, Natasha - Steve says finally - Rachel?
He calls to the Marketing Manager who has her face hidden behind a sheet of sulfite, while her shoulders rise and fall in a laugh she can't hide.
- Yes sure. -She takes a deep breath, her face red as she takes my place.
I drag myself back to my chair, knowing Steve must be irate that he discovered my spies.
But damn, he has to understand!
Rachel manages to contain her laughter and starts her presentation and I grab my cell phone, but before she can get on camera again, I see a text from Steve.
"What the fuck are you doing? Pay attention to the meeting."
I huff, annoyed by Steve's brash tone, and quickly type a message.
"I have my eye on our daughter at home with a Russian spy!"
Steve turns his head to me instantly, with a "Have you lost your mind?" look.
I shrug and point forward so he pays attention to Rachel.
He turns around, still annoyed.
And I go back to spying on the cameras.
Russian phone-tapping spy has disappeared.