"DIE" With a "T"

Cindy could never wrap her head around the expression ‘you can’t have your cake and eat it, too.’

To be fair, she also didn’t really get why people ate cake in the first place. Didn’t they understand the sheer caloric intake of such indulgence? The chunks and rolls that would inevitably be added to the human figure?

‘A moment on the lips, forever on the hips.’ That was an expression she understood.

But the beauty of cake, especially a moist, chocolate one…that was a sight to behold. There was something sweet about the image itself. It sounded weird, but Joe had the exact same idea just yesterday…

“Cindy!” Richard screamed at her.

“Yes, boss?” Her eyes darted around the board room, searching for context. Daydreaming, again, it seemed. She studied her colleagues’ faces. Where was Joe when she needed him?

“Would you kindly answer the question?” Richard tapped on his desk with his all-too-long fingernails. “Our stakeholders are waiting. Patiently, I might add.”

“Stakeholders…that’s a funny word, right?” Cindy said, chuckling to herself. “I mean, who holds a steak?”

Richard’s laughter did a poor job masking his rage. “Cindy, this isn’t open mic night. When will we see the new designs for the Fall Collection?”

Cindy ruffled through her notes. “By…um…by…?”

“Cindy…answer…now,” Richard spoke through clenched teeth.

“End of next week, no doubt.” Cindy forced a smile to an apathetic room.

“Cindy, we need a final draft by this Friday.”

“That’s in two days.”

“You’ve known this for two months.”

Cindy didn’t relinquish the smile, as much as she wanted to. A smile showed confidence, as her mother always said. A smile showed that you were a fun, pretty girl who people could trust and respect. “Yes, of course. I’m sorry, I meant end of this week.” Thanks, Mom.

Richard grunted and the meeting continued. Cindy’s mind spun. She had nothing. Less than nothing. She didn’t even have a theme, let alone a single, workable design. How could anyone innovate in under 48 hours? That wasn’t nearly enough time. She prayed that Joe would know the answer.

-

Thankfully, Joe (her savior) sat with her in her small side office. She closed the door behind her and tried to conjure up that smile again.

Joe gasped. “Honey, you’ve got one of those ‘hand in the cookie jar’ looks on your face.”

Cindy gasped back, “How dare you accuse me of eating cookies.”

They both paused, struck a pose, and broke into laughter.

“Shhh, Joe,” Cindy said. “You’re right—I’m really in it deep this time. I completely forgot about the Fall Collection. I’ve just been so absent-minded lately.”

“Is it that new diet you’re on?” Joe asked.

“Do I detect a hint of judgment?”

“Not judgment,” said Joe. “But you know ‘DIET’ is just ‘DIE’ with a ‘T,’ right?”

“That’s an old Garfield joke,” Cindy said. “And this is serious. I could lose my job.”

A rattling startled her.

“Cindy,” Richard barked from behind the door. “We need to talk.”

“Don’t say a word,” Cindy snapped at Joe. He nodded silently.

Richard entered the room. He was breathing like he had just run a marathon. “What is the matter with you?” He took a heavy breath. “Do you hate working here? Did the devil send you to punish me?”

Cindy stammered, “I’m so sorry—I was just a little out of it today. I think there’s something going around the office…”

“Your excuses are worthless, Cindy. Honestly, I would fire you right now if my job didn’t require you to turn something in.”

Cindy stood up in a panic. “Please don’t do that. You know I’m going to deliver.”

He walked over and put his hand on her shoulder. It felt sweaty and far too warm. “Cindy, you keep letting me down. Over and over again.” She could feel pressure on her shoulder. Her legs buckled, and she collapsed down into her chair. Joe pretended to be preoccupied with paperwork.

“I’ll make this up to you, Richard,” she whispered to him. “Like last time.”

Richard couldn’t help but smirk. But his grin faded as soon as it had formed. He leaned in until he was just a few inches away from her face. “You’re not very good at that, either,” he whispered with bitter coffee breath. “And that’s not going to bail you out this time.”

As he walked out, he looked back over his shoulder and muttered, “At least you lost some of that stomach flab.”

Cindy stared blankly at the door as it closed.

“My poor Cindy,” Joe said. “Are you okay?”

“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Cindy said, burying her head in her arms.

“Don’t worry,” Joe said. “We’ll work late. All night. Whatever we have to do. We won’t leave this stupid office until you turn all your designs in.”

“You mean it?” Cindy said, feeling a rush of warmth throughout her body.

“Anything for you,” he said. They smiled at each other. “I’ll order some Chinese,” he added.

“None for me,” Cindy said. “I’ve gotta focus. Can’t be weighed down with pork lo mein. I’d turn into a pig myself!”

They both laughed and got down to business.

-

For the next forty hours, the coffee flowed as freely as Cindy’s creative juices. With Joe posing as the live model, the Fall Collection was surprisingly effortless. Her creativity was fluid, beginning like a running faucet and evolving into a tsunami. She was barely done sketching the first idea when the next would arrive. First, it was a design every hour. Then every half hour. By the wee hours of Thursday night, she was producing a new creation every ten minutes.

When Friday morning rolled around, she had slept only an hour and hadn’t left the office once, but it was worth it. Nearly one hundred designs, completed (twenty of which she was particularly proud of and three that comprised some of her best work ever).

It was around seven on Friday morning when she ran out of steam. Alongside Joe, she hustled to organize the designs, making minor tweaks here and there. She had a raging migraine but tried to focus through the pain.

“You should take some Advil,” Joe advised.

“Did you know two Advils have as many calories as this cup of coffee?” Cindy said. “Sugar-coated tablet? Um, no, thank you.”

“Well, I learned something today,” Joe laughed.

The door flew open with a bang. Cindy and Joe jumped. Richard stood in the door frame, face flushed and out of breath again.

“Cindy,” he said. “Do you hate answering your phone?”

“Oh,” she said, looking down at her lifeless smartphone. When had it died? “Sorry, I was just so in the zone that I forgot to charge it.”

“I was out sick yesterday…” Richard paused and scanned the room. “What’s that smell? Are you wearing the same clothes as Wednesday?”

Cindy laughed and sprinted up to him. “I know, I know. You’re going to think I’m crazy, but I worked nonstop with Joe for the last forty hours. I’ve got almost one hundred designs, twenty that I think you’re going to absolutely adore.”

Richard bit his lower lip. “Show me,” he said.

Cindy felt something she hadn’t felt for a long time. Was it…hope? This was her golden opportunity to prove herself. She caressed the newly made portfolio, double-checking that her best three designs were out in front. As she handed it to Richard, she gave Joe a sly thumbs up and a wink.

Richard thumbed through the portfolio. His eyes widened and his jaw…did it drop? Is that what happened? Cindy clenched her fists and attempted not to scream with excitement. Be humble, Cindy, always be humble. Like mom said. People don’t like cocky, mean girls who don’t smile.

Be nice. Be humble.

“I know I didn’t have time to present them properly,” Cindy said, fighting a smile. “But I think you’ll find that there’s enough raw design there for our team to get started on…”

Richard held his hand up to silence her. “Cindy,” he said. “I can’t believe this.”

“You really like it?” Her toes curled with excitement.

“No, Cindy,” Richard said. “I don’t know what this is supposed to be.”

Her heart sank. What did he mean? Did he not like her work? “Well, I didn’t exactly play it safe—”

“No, Cindy.” He finally made eye contact with her. She was a puzzle he was attempting to solve. “These drawings…”

“Are a little rough, I know, but—”

“Cindy, they’re cake.”

Cindy stared at her boss, trying to decipher what he meant. She searched Joe for answers, but he was also trying to wrap his mind around Richard’s word choice.

“Is that an expression for…wonderful?” Cindy asked.

“No, Cindy,” Richard said slowly. “These are drawings of cake. Chocolate cake, it looks like.” He showed her the portfolio. “There are literally dozens of drawings of chocolate cake, from different angles, in excruciating detail. Is this a joke?”

Cindy giggled. “These are drawings of Joe,” she said, pointing across the room. “Are you feeling okay, Richard? Or are you joking with me?”

Richard put down the portfolio slowly.

“Who the hell is Joe?” Richard asked. “Cindy, you’re pointing at a cake.”

Cindy looked over at Joe. Joe shook his head in confusion. He clearly wasn’t a cake.

“I thought you picked up that cake on Wednesday for someone’s birthday. What’s it still doing here? Why are you drawing pictures of it?”

“Sir,” Cindy said, trying to sound professional. “Joe is my biggest advocate. He stayed here for days helping me.”

Richard’s eyes grew wider still. He approached Joe. “This is Joe?” Richard asked, standing right beside her colleague.

Joe looked nervous. Cindy didn’t know what this was. Her chest felt like it was going to explode.

“This is Joe?” Richard repeated.

Cindy nodded.

Richard let out a sigh. Joe closed his eyes in relief. Then Richard grabbed him by the collar and lifted him in the air. “This is a cake, Cindy.”

“What are you doing?” Cindy yelled. “Put him down.”

Richard paused for a second, still holding Joe up in the air. No one breathed. He contemplated her words and blinked several times.

Then Richard screamed, “IT’S JUST A CAKE!”

Richard threw Joe into the wall. Upon impact, Joe’s body smeared against the wall and crumbled all over the floor.

“JOE!” Cindy cried at the top of her lungs. She fell on top of Joe’s remains in tears, rubbing him over her hands and face as she cried. Why, why was Richard such a monster? How could he have done this?

Then it hit her: jealousy. Richard wanted the designs for himself. He finally saw her genius and couldn’t give her credit. And he was willing to kill to get what he wanted.

Poor Joe. She should have saved him. But at least she could save herself.

Covered from head to toe with Joe, she arose. Richard took a step back, bewildered. She saw something in him she had never seen before: fear.

“You know,” Cindy said. “When I picked up Joe on Wednesday, they gave me this with him.” She reached into her drawer and removed an ornate silver knife. Richard fell backward, slamming into a filing cabinet. It fell on top of his legs. There was a crack. He screamed and tried to move, but the weight and the break kept him pinned to the ground.

Cindy knelt next to his body. He gazed up at her as she waved the knife around his head.

“You know what, Richard?” she said. “I’m suddenly really, really hungry.”