CHEEV – Sorrow
Three Weeks Earlier
Kira
Okay… I think I’ve got everything packed.
Phone—check, speech notes—check, lip gloss—check. Speaking of lip gloss… maybe I should just take my whole makeup bag with me? What if I mess up my makeup somewhere along the way? What would I do then?
Damn it, and if I follow that logic… what if I ruin my outfit?! That would be a total disaster! I’m not usually clumsy, but anything can happen. Murphy’s Law hasn’t been repealed yet. Hmm… should I pack an extra set of clothes just in case?
“Sweetie, I’m home!” I heard Dad’s loud shout from the other end of our apartment.
That’s our little rule. Whenever one of us comes home, we have to announce it right away. It might sound a bit weird, but our place is laid out in such a way that if you’re in a far-off room, you might not even hear the front door slam shut. There was this one time I got sick and came home way earlier than expected, then quietly shuffled into the kitchen, nearly giving Dad a heart attack with my sudden appearance. And mind you, he’s seen enough hell in his life, endured enough scares, that he shouldn’t have reacted at all to me popping up out of nowhere, but here we are. Though… I’d probably keel over too if I thought I was home alone, calmly standing at the stove cooking dinner and humming some dumb jingle from a commercial, only to feel a hand land on my shoulder out of the blue. Anyway, Dad’s blood pressure shot up that day, so almost immediately, he came up with this new rule, and I wasn’t about to argue with him.
“And I’m just about to head out,” I replied, stepping out to meet him.
Dad looked exhausted. His short black hair was a mess, dark circles shadowed his eyes, and I noticed a fresh burn mark on his hand.
“You’re leaving early today,” he said, forcing a smile.
“And you had a rough night, didn’t you?” I asked grimly, then turned to grab the special ointment for his burn. We spent forever looking for something that effectively relieved pain and helped wounds heal faster, and when we finally found it, we bought a year’s supply. Thank God we don’t need it too often, but in cases like this, it’s a lifesaver.
“It was a tough night,” Dad said, catching up to me, “but you won’t believe this: my burn this time is purely domestic.”
“What do you mean?”
“Our electric kettle broke down, so we had to dig out the old metal one last night. Long story short, we got it boiling, but when I tried to take it off the stove, the handle fell off. So, here we are,” he said, rolling up the sleeve of his long-sleeve shirt and almost proudly showing off the result.
“You need to be more careful,” I grumbled, though I couldn’t hold back a smile.
It seemed to genuinely amuse Dad that he—a firefighter with twenty years of experience—got burned over something so trivial. And while I didn’t think a scald from boiling water was trivial, Dad had his own logic.
“I know, I know,” he waved me off, then asked again, “So, you were heading out already? Why so early?”
“Today’s the presentation, Zakhar Oleksandrovych. Did you forget?”
“I didn’t forget, Kira Zakharivna,” he replied in a high-pitched voice, mimicking me, “but isn’t it at three, if I’m not mistaken?”
“Yeah, but I still need to set everything up, rehearse…”
“Got it, got it,” Dad said, rolling his eyes dramatically. “You, Kira Zakharivna, need everything to be perfect. Your mom was exactly the same…”
At the mention of Mom, my throat tightened as it always did. God, how I missed her! Especially on days like this when I could really use her support. And don’t even get me started on Dad… It’s been fourteen years, and he still loves her so much that he can’t even look at another woman.
“I know,” I whispered, feeling my eyes grow misty. “Anyway,” I continued, forcing myself to perk up, “there’s food in the fridge, and I’m gonna grab my stuff. See you tonight.”
“Hold on, I’ll drive you.”
“Dad, you’re exhausted.”
“I’m fine,” he said, stepping closer and gently nudging me toward the door. “You’ll have a ton of stuff with you. How are you gonna manage on the subway?”
“Why do you think I’ll have a ton of stuff?” I asked, surprised.
“Because I know you’ll pack half your wardrobe just in case. And also… I bet you’ll stuff your bag with the entire first-aid kit, your whole makeup bag…”
“Don’t go on!” I laughed, cutting him off. “You know me too well, but actually, I hadn’t even thought about the first-aid kit. That’s a good idea.”
What if I get a stomachache? Or a headache? Or something else?! No way, I’m not leaving the house without a first-aid kit now!
“God, I’ve gone and jinxed myself,” Dad muttered, letting out a heavy sigh. “Hurry up, and I’ll go bring the car around to the front.”
“You know you’re the best, right?” I couldn’t help myself and gave him a tight hug, but the gesture made him flinch and grit his teeth. “Okay, so the kettle wasn’t the only incident last night, was it?”
“Honey, focus on your presentation,” he said, kissing me on the temple before quickly disappearing down the hallway.
He doesn’t take care of himself at all! And all I can do is worry about him constantly and go gray from the thought that one day, I might not see him come home after a shift. You have no idea how terrified I am of losing him too. I’ve begged him so many times to switch to a safer position, but all I ever get in response is irritation and him saying he knows what’s best for him.
Making a mental note to grab some painkillers and a different ointment for bruises before heading out, I quickly started packing an extra bag for work. Just an hour ago, I hadn’t planned on taking so much stuff with me, but on such an important day, it’s better to be safe than sorry. Especially since I lucked out with a ride.
***
While we navigated through the morning traffic jams, I managed to go over my entire presentation speech.
Well, to be honest, it’s not exactly a speech-speech, but today at the car dealership where I’ve been working for two years, we’re hosting a presentation for new Mercedes models. It’s a premium business event, and our regular clients are invited—people you address with the utmost respect, if you catch my drift.
My role in all this is to present two luxury models, one of which is an exclusive electric vehicle, a special edition from Maybach. Usually, cars like these are only brought in on order, but the Abrametskis, my bosses and the owners of the dealership, decided to take a risk. I’m not sure why they wanted to do this, but I’ve made it my mission to showcase this beauty in a way that’ll have guests lining up to buy it right after the presentation (which isn’t uncommon at events like these). If I pull this off, consider it my personal golden ticket to a brighter future.
Don’t get it? Let me explain!
So, I’m just a regular sales manager who interacts directly with clients, tells them about the cars they’re interested in, schedules test drives, and so on. It’s all cool and fun, but… it’s not exactly lucrative, to be honest. No, compared to the average salary around here, my income is pretty decent. But unfortunately, even that isn’t enough to finally pay off the damn student loan that almost no one knows about. And it’s because of this loan that I need to prove myself today like I never have in all my time working here. I know it’ll be tough, but I’m going to give it my all. If I succeed, my direct supervisor, Agatha Anatoliivna, will definitely notice me among the other employees and, I’m really hoping, take me on as her assistant.
I know it might not seem like there’s a huge difference between “sales manager” and “assistant,” but… at our place, the gap is massive! Agatha Anatoliivna’s current assistant, who’s leaving soon (maternity leave, by the way), always accompanies her to parties, business trips, has a ton of other perks, and most importantly, earns more money than all of us sales managers combined.
So, to reiterate: this position is my golden ticket to a happy, vibrant, and, most importantly, debt-free future.
But of course, there’s got to be a fly in the ointment, right?
And there is… Her name is Marta. A tall, slender brunette with dark eyes and aristocratically pale skin, she’s my main competitor. We started working here at almost the same time, though she’s two years older than me. So, we have the same amount of experience and, as much as it pains me to admit, nearly identical sales numbers.
Honestly? I objectively recognize that we have equal chances of getting the assistant position, but I still hope that after my successful presentation today (and I didn’t even doubt it would be successful), Agatha Anatoliivna will choose me.
Of course, Marta will also be presenting her two models, but I have a couple of advantages. Not only do I get the honor of showcasing the most expensive car, but I also once learned how to engage an audience and hold their attention completely. Sure, I was taught this in the context of a nightclub crowd, but I think the techniques are pretty universal. And my striking appearance, if I may say so without being too modest, should also play a role.
I deliberately didn’t tie my long red hair into my usual high ponytail today, wanting to look my best in front of the guests. I’d have loved to stand out with a cute dress too, of course, but the dress code stopped me—it requires us to appear before guests only in a white blouse and a black pencil skirt. Still, I found a little loophole in the rules and opted for a new suede knee-length skirt with a playful yet subtle slit and a built-in belt, which, paired with classic black stilettos, should look stunning.
After saying goodbye to Dad and agreeing that I’d make my own way home tonight, I finally stepped into the familiar dealership. Things were already in full swing with preparations for the presentation. The car displays were being covered with lightweight drapes that would be dramatically pulled off at the right moment. Screens were being set up everywhere to play themed videos, and this time, the Abrametskis spared no expense on decorating the hall. From that, I concluded that today’s guests would be very, very important. Well, that’s only a plus for me. What if I manage to sell a shiny new Maybach to one of these “important” folks and then casually ask for a review of my work? Sure, there’s no guarantee they’ll agree, but who’s stopping me from dreaming?
Man, I really hope today marks a new beginning for me.