Love in Color: Mythical Tales from Around the World, Retold(16)
Psy took a deep breath outside the glass walls of the conference room. She’d arrived just in time for the general meeting. Her plan was to propose an idea that would wow Venus and the team so much that, when she asked for a promotion, Venus would find that she couldn’t say no. Psy decided she was going to pull herself together and think about the mess she’d made with Eros later.
She opened the door and beamed brightly at the team. ‘Morning everyone!’
‘Love the fit, Psy!’
Psy smiled at Pheme, a celebrity gossip reporter who she didn’t trust with a lick of information. Nevertheless, at this moment, Psy was grateful for Pheme’s warm, welcoming face, because Venus was currently staring icicles into her chest.
Venus’s chin was resting on a single elegant finger, the shiny black talon on it seemed like a weapon ready to go. She tilted her head to the side, voice cool. ‘Nice of you to join us.’
Psy was quite literally perfectly on time. She’d also sorted Venus’s documents and briefs the night before and placed them in the conference room ready for her.
Psy smiled sweetly anyway. ‘Sorry I’m late.’
Psy attempted to focus throughout the meeting while trying to balance conjuring the energy she needed to pitch with the energy she needed to get over the fact that she’d just basically confessed to Eros that she was in love with him. She failed at all three things, which meant that when Hera, Founder and Editor-in-Chief of Olympus magazine, asked if anyone had anything to add, it was only Pheme’s pointed cough that alerted her to the moment. Psy swallowed.
‘Um, I do.’
Venus’s eyes swivelled to Psy’s and she slid her head to the side, ever so slightly. ‘You do? Aren’t you meant to run things past me first?’
Hades. Psy had hoped that she was demonstrating initiative, but apparently this translated as insubordination in Venus’s perfectly lined eyes.
Hera released a genial smile. She was an exquisite woman with thick, grey locs swept up elegantly on top of her head, and wide, sage eyes that seemed to see everything, even if she didn’t always say anything, wanting to see how you fared on your own before deigning to intercede. Hera allowed room for growth, as more of a benevolent overseer. ‘Go ahead, Psyche.’
Psy cleared her throat and tried to ignore Venus’s cool glare as she scrolled through her notes on her tablet. ‘Uh, so, Olympus takes up such an important space in this industry. Hera, when you started it, you wanted to make a statement about how powerful women could be through their choices, their freedom to make those choices, and how those choices can be reflected through style. Recently, um, I’ve noticed that our covers boast a very . . . homogenous sort of beauty. I get it. But given our power, I think we have an opportunity to change that, to push and evolve our industry landscape, like we used to. Which is why I’d like to propose a new campaign called “Muse”, with the aim of centring the everyday woman. She can be her own muse. She doesn’t need to look outside, she can look within, and we want to inspire all women to do the same. Activists, humanitarians, thought-leaders, in the clothes and make-up that make them feel the most powerful.’
Psy noticed Hera’s right-hand woman – the Chief-Strategy-Officer of Olympus – Athena, nodding, intermittently, infinitesimally, sharp green eyes narrowed. Psy felt bolstered to continue. ‘I think that, if executed carefully and thoroughly, we could potentially revolutionise and challenge the concept of a universalised beauty standard. I mean, what really is beauty? We have a chance to assert that sartorial and aesthetic inspiration should ultimately come from who we are—’
Hera held up a single hand, just as Psy was convinced she was hitting her stride. Psy felt as if she’d run up and smacked up against Hera’s palm and fallen on her butt. She knew she had crossed a line.
Hera’s eyes were placid as she looked squarely at Psy. ‘So, you’re saying that my magazine is archaic and needs rejuvenation? And you . . . think you’re the person to do it?’
Psy swallowed. ‘Uh, no, I just . . .’ Psy was so used to backtracking under Venus’s glare that it took her a few seconds to realise that Hera was looking at her calmly, with no judgement or vilification. Psy saw a wide-open space in Hera’s eyes that was calling her to press forward. ‘I don’t think your magazine is archaic, but I do feel that we can help mould a conception of beauty that takes our souls into account. Who we are and what we bring to the world.’
Hera nodded. ‘You want to start your own platform within the Olympus outfit?’
‘No, I . . . well, no, but, actually, I think a platform affiliated with Muse would be beneficial. I don’t need to run it, but I would love to be able to facilitate—’
‘Why not?’
Psy almost choked on her own saliva. ‘Excuse me? Ma’am. Ms. Um, I—’
‘Why don’t you need to run it? You’ve worked hard for two years. You’ve consistently proved yourself in what is a difficult role. I’ve been watching you. You should definitely run it. We’ll set a meeting up later to discuss it further. If you’re happy with the terms, I’ll have Moirai from the HR department draw up the paperwork. It will involve building your own team and working within the social media department.’
‘What?’ Venus’s and Psy’s voices merged, one icy, the other in soft disbelief.