The Chai Factor Page 5

  She’d had men tell her they’d fantasized about her hair before, but blow-drying it didn’t usually factor into it. “Um . . . okay . . .” She hesitated.

  “Of the four of us, Travis is the closest thing to an actual barber,” Barrington explained, a friendly smile on his face, too.

  “I’m a hairstylist in Ottawa,” Travis said.

  “And I work in a tech start-up. Plus, I’m a part-time grad student,” Barrington added with a grin. His voice was even lower than Duncan’s. “Apparently, you’re also in grad school?” Barrington was easy on the eyes, too. A large black man, he was taller, broader, and a hell of a lot friendlier-looking than Duncan Galahad.

  So, if Sameer and Duncan were together, were these two a couple? It was a bit more believable as both seemed to have received the “be friendly to strangers” memo. And as much as she didn’t believe it earlier, she was starting to understand Sameer and Duncan’s relationship. Duncan could smirk while Sameer scowled. A match made in grouchy heaven.

  Should she flat-out ask them their relationship statuses? Amira had never been great at deciphering sexual orientation, so she usually didn’t bother trying. But if these four were going to be living here with her, it would be nice to know who belonged to whom.

  “Degree?” Barrington asked.

  She smiled. “MEng. You?”

  “MBET.”

  She had a friend who’d done that degree. She smiled. “MBET! I—”

  “WTF!” Travis interrupted quite loudly.

  They all turned to Travis’s giggling face. “I felt left out—I wanted to speak in letters, too.”

  Duncan snorted. “Why do teenagers and grad students always speak in acronyms? It’s like they think they are above us commoners and our complete words.” He shot a glare at Amira.

  Determined not to let the red beard get under her skin, she turned back to Barrington. “MBET is like an MBA with more of a technology focus, right?”

  He nodded. “Yup. And entrepreneurship. I have one year left.”

  “I have only one report left, then I’m done.”

  “Congratulations. Can I pour you a coffee?” Barrington held out the stainless-steel coffee carafe.

  Amira checked the time on the microwave. “Thanks, but I need to run. I have a meeting downtown. It’s been a pleasure, gents.” She left with a wave for the two nice members of their group and resisted the urge to glare at Duncan on her way out.

  Hyde Industrial Consulting was located in an impressive, glass-fronted low-rise near the waterfront downtown. The location was a bit of a pain to get to, being a decent distance off the subway line, but Amira was happy to take a streetcar from Union Station and walk the half block to the building. Entering through the revolving door, she was overcome with a warm feeling of familiar comfort mingling with excitement for the future.

  Despite her issues in school, Amira loved working as an engineer. As a consultant, she’d had the opportunity to work on so many projects, most in the manufacturing sector. She loved meeting new clients, taking on new challenges, and using her expertise to solve complex problems. And with her new advanced degree? Amira was going to get better assignments and prove herself capable of a senior role. This was just the beginning.

  “Oh my god! It’s Amira!” Shelley, an old friend at Hyde, was unexpectedly at reception. At first, Amira had maintained contact with Shelley through social media after leaving, but since she’d gone silent online, Amira had lost touch with her old lunch buddy.

  “Shelley! What are you doing at reception?” Amira smiled as she bent down to hug her friend over the counter.

  “Regular chick is sick. She’s always sick. We didn’t have the time to get a temp this morning, so, of course, ‘that HR girl’ is the one voluntold to cover for her.” Shelley spoke the words that HR girl in an exaggerated English accent.

  Amira chuckled. “I have a meeting with Jim Prescott to discuss coming back.”

  Shelley smiled. “Yay! I’ll tell him you’re here.” After she made the call, Shelley grinned. “I’m glad you’ll be back. We need more women around here. Things are so . . . disheartening lately.”

  “Really?” That sentiment was unusual for Shelley. She was the sunny optimist at work.

  “Yeah”—she glanced over her shoulder towards the offices—“you’ll do fine, though. I was just telling Dave that things will be better when Amira’s back.”

  Amira’s heart swelled. It felt good to be appreciated. “It will take me awhile to get used to this place again.”

  “Nah, it’s like riding a bike. Hey, you know what? I’ll put you back on the Hyde employee distribution list. Nothing like an employee newsletter to make you feel like part of the team.”

  Amira laughed. Jim didn’t make her wait long; he soon appeared in reception, hand outstretched.

  “You must be Elmira. Pleasure to meet you. I have heard much about you,” Jim said with a distinctive English accent.

  “Amira. Thank you, sir.”

  “Come, let’s meet in my office.”

  Jim Prescott was an older man—Amira guessed late fifties—with dark hair, a large waistline, and short legs. He walked slowly and deliberately, in stark contrast to her former boss, Jennifer, who always seemed to be four steps ahead of everyone in the room. Jim seemed friendly enough, though, and as Amira knew from experience, engineers didn’t always look like you expected them to.

  He led her to the same glass-walled office Jennifer had used. A large fern still stood in the corner, although it looked bigger than the last time Amira had seen it. Nothing else was the same, though. Jim apparently wasn’t as partial to family pictures and inspirational quotes as Jennifer had been.

  Jim lowered himself into the slick leather office chair behind the glass-topped desk and gestured for Amira to sit.

  He smiled, lifting a beige manila folder from the corner of the desk and opening it. “My assistant pulled your personnel file.” He flipped through the loose papers inside for a few moments as Amira perched on her chair. “So,” he finally said, “I see you’ve been away for a while. Maternity leave?”

  “No. I’ve been in grad school. I’ve almost completed my master’s.”

  “Have you? Good girl. I apologize, but girls your age are always running off to have babies. And you were told you could return to Hyde after your schooling?”

  “Yes. Jennifer Chen granted me a leave of absence for school and guaranteed I could return to my position when finished.”

  He lifted up a cream sheet of paper, topped with Hyde Industrial’s distinctive green and blue logo. “Ah yes. Here it is.” He read the letter. “Hmm . . . a two-year unpaid sabbatical to complete your education. They certainly do things differently here in Canada, don’t they?”

  Amira squeezed her lips shut. She was starting to wonder if this Jim Prescott was as supportive as Raymond believed him to be. “And you’re ready to return now?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir. I’m just completing my final project report. I have one more meeting with my academic adviser and then I am available to return.”

  “Excellent, excellent. Congratulations. I am pleased to hear that. How long had you been at Hyde prior to deciding to leave?” He began leafing through the papers in her file again.

  “Four years, sir.”

  “Ah, here is your most recent performance review.” He scanned the pages. “Two years old, though, but impressive nonetheless. Is it your plan to stay with the firm long term?”

  “Yes. I’d hoped advancing my education would help leverage my career to a senior consultant position in a few years.”

  He looked up from the file. She had trouble reading him. He could have been anywhere from surprised to pleased or even disgusted. Proper English upper-class manners, she figured. “Oh, is that so?” He smiled again. She was starting to wonder if that smile could be trusted. “May I be frank with you, Mrs. Khan?”

  “Ms.” Crap. She shouldn’t have said that, but Mrs. Khan just made her think of her mother.


  “Pardon me?”

  Amira sighed. “It’s Ms. I am not married.”

  “Oh, you’re not married? Pretty little thing like you, won’t be long, I think. Miss Khan, I will be honest with you. I think you may face an uphill battle here if you expect a senior position in the near future. It is a competitive marketplace, and I am not sure about my predecessors, but I don’t believe people should advance in the field based on anything other than ability. Not because of some letters behind one’s name, or to fulfill any . . . perceived requirement. You must also keep in mind that senior roles are very challenging at Hyde. Lead consultants are expected to work demanding schedules, with little time for domestic obligations. And as you have been away for so long, I see little evidence of your ability to meet our expectations.”

  Domestic obligations? What the hell? And was he really implying it would have been better for her to stay at work and impress him instead of getting her master’s degree? And she couldn’t even begin to approach that perceived requirement comment. She smiled tightly, but her blood was starting to heat.

  “A good first step,” he continued, “would be to partner with some of our longer-standing consultants upon your return to help you reintegrate yourself into Hyde. Have you remained in contact with anyone during your sabbatical?”

  “Yes, Raymond Chu. He’s my mentor.”

  “Yes, Ray. Generous of him. He’s an impressive chap. Doing a wonderful job on the Regent plant project. The project manager took him out for a steak dinner last night to thank him.” He chuckled. “I understand they enjoyed most of a bottle of scotch together. Anyway, young lady, I’m not saying it’s impossible for you to move ahead at Hyde, but I wouldn’t want you to think you have an advantage because of anything other than results. I run a meritocracy here.”

  “Of course, I understand that, sir.”

  “Excellent, excellent . . .” He returned the loose papers to the file folder and placed it on the corner of his desk. “Well,” he said, turning to look at the calendar pinned on the corkboard behind him. “How about we say May fifteenth for your return date? That’s four weeks away. I’ll have you shadow Ray on the Regent plant project at first.” He stood. “If we’re settled, then, I have another meeting to get to.”

  Amira stood, feeling dizzy. She was glad her legs held her weight. “Thank you for meeting me, Mr. Prescott. I appreciate your time.”

  That smile again. Positively reptilian. “Of course, my dear,” he said, holding out his hand. She had to shake it but wasn’t the least bit surprised when it was cold as ice. “It was a pleasure to meet you. I wish you well on the completion of your studies. Now if you’ll excuse me . . .”

  Amira walked out of his office. Her friendly smile was painted on her face. Her legs were moving exactly as they should, one step in front of the other, hips swaying just a bit. She casually swept her hair behind her shoulder. She walked as if every molecule in her body wasn’t vibrating with anger. As if nothing was wrong at all. She approached Shelley to say goodbye.

  “It was great seeing you, Shelley,” Amira said, straining to keep her voice light and cheerful.

  “Yes,” Shelley answered, standing and grabbing her purse. “Wish I could chat, Amira, but I have a meeting. I need to stop agreeing to cover the reception desk. Dave, our admin, has tons of receptionist experience, but they always ask me. As if I don’t have enough to do.” She rolled her eyes. “Let’s do lunch some weekend before you’re back. I’ll catch you up on the scoop here.”

  “Uh, sure. That sounds good,” Amira said, pulling out her phone and opening her calendar. She went through the motions of arranging a lunch date, but Amira wasn’t really paying attention. Her nerve endings were still vibrating with anger, but she managed to mask it.

  “You good, Amira? You look a little shaken.”

  Okay, maybe her cloaking shields weren’t at full strength. “Yeah, I’m fine. Great seeing you, looking forward to our lunch.”

  “Great, me too. Bye, hon.” Shelley disappeared down the hallway.

  Amira left through the big revolving door and made her way to the same café where she and Raymond had met for weekly lunches for years. The meeting with Jim went shorter than expected, so she had time to kill. After ordering a latte, she found a seat at the back. The coffee smelled strong and acidic. She wasn’t sure she would be able to stomach it.

  Amira was no naive ingenue—she understood what Jim had been implying. He assumed she thought she would get preferential treatment at Hyde, even the promotion she wanted, just because she could tick off so many “diversity” boxes. Did he think she planned to exploit her skin colour? Maybe her religion? Unlikely. This was Toronto, one of the most multicultural cities in the world. Hyde Industrial had no shortage of minorities of any kind. But what they did have a shortage of, at least at the consultant level, was women.

  Sexism in her chosen field wasn’t new to Amira. She was used to the off-colour remarks and classmates who preferred not to work with her on projects—or worse, assumed she didn’t know what she was doing. But Amira had first sought the position at Hyde because of their progressive hiring practices. Because of the female senior engineers in the firm. Sexism rearing its ugly head in what was supposed to be the progressive nirvana of Hyde Industrial was disappointing.

  Amira had barely touched her coffee by the time Raymond arrived shortly after twelve. He took the seat across from her at her table.

  “Great to see you, Amira. Just saw Jim, he tells me you’ll be back in a month?”

  “Yeah, May fifteenth.”

  “Looking forward to it. We going to start our weekly lunch dates again?”

  “Sure,” Amira said.

  “You don’t sound too excited to come back. Where’s my chatty friend?” Raymond asked.

  “Raymond, you said Jim’s great. Do you like working for him?”

  “Yeah. I miss Jennifer but I don’t really have complaints about Jim.”

  “Where did Jennifer go?”

  “She transferred to the Singapore office. There’s been a lot of international lateral moves at Hyde lately. Restructuring. New blood, new perspectives.”

  Amira frowned. “Do you find Jim to be at all, you know . . . sexist?”

  “Sexist?”

  “Yes. He said some things to me. Implied he thought I expected to get promotions because of my gender.”

  “What? You don’t expect that, do you?”

  “No, of course not. I just . . . I got the sense he was telling me he’d never give a senior position to a woman.”

  “Did he say that?”

  “Not really. He said I couldn’t expect to get a position for any reason except merit. And he implied a successful lead consultant wouldn’t have time for domestic obligations. And would be expected to go to steak houses with clients.”

  He laughed. “Why would that eliminate you? Men and women share domestic duties these days. And he’s right—I’m rarely home to put the boys to sleep. Plus, you eat steak, right? Just not pork.”

  “Yeah—”

  “I’ve found him to be progressive. He hired a female engineer just last week. But I will say one thing about Jim: he’s big on action. He wants visible results. He’s much more customer focused than Jennifer.”

  “He seemed sexist to me. He also called me a pretty young thing.”

  Raymond laughed again. “He’s old school, that’s for sure. But seriously, Amira, I’m sure you misinterpreted it. You’ve been out of the office environment for a while, but take it from me, I’ve been working with the guy for four months now. You’ll get used to him.”

  Maybe Raymond had a point. She was out of practice at deciphering office politics. Amira sipped her coffee, thinking. “So, what did Jim mean when he said this would be an uphill climb for me?”

  Raymond paused, seemingly deep in thought. “What happened with that immigration issue you were dealing with last year? Did it get sorted out?”

  Jesus Christ, so Jim was racist? �
�It wasn’t an immigration issue. I was detained at the border for no reason. Does Jim have an issue with immigrants?”

  “What? Of course not. He’s an immigrant himself, isn’t he? I was just wondering if he read any of those articles about you. I know Jennifer saw them—she was pretty angry on your behalf. But Jim’s not the type to approve of his staff gaining . . . infamy. Like I said, he’s very client focused, and distracting clients from the consultant’s abilities would be frowned upon.”

  Amira grimaced. “It was a year ago, and I wasn’t working at Hyde then. I’ve moved on, and thankfully the media has, too.” She strategically left out the bit about getting a call from a reporter only yesterday. She never imagined that she would lose promotion opportunities thanks to her super-fun racial profiling holiday, but then again, she didn’t expect that she would be going back to work reporting to a Mad Men–era engineer.

  “Good, hopefully it never comes up,” Raymond said. “He doesn’t know. I’m sure he would have said something when I was just talking to him about you.”

  “Okay, so it’s not for my gender, race, religion, or my unfortunate history with the Toronto airport customs officials. Why did Jim say it would be an uphill climb?”

  Raymond paused again. He really seemed to be putting a lot of thought into Amira’s problem here. She was lucky to have an ally like Raymond at work. “We’re friends, so I’ll be honest with you, Amira. The buzz around the office is there’s a new senior position opening up soon. A whole new division that will be under Jim’s umbrella. Maybe he was warning you away from applying until he’s seen evidence of your ability.”

  “I’m not expecting to get a brand-new senior position! And I told him as much, in our meeting. I know I’ve been gone for a while. All I said was I was hoping for a promotion within a few years. But if there is no chance of ever moving ahead, then what’s the point of me staying at Hyde?”

  Amira cringed as the words left her mouth. The thought of leaving Hyde was terrifying, and not just because she loved it there. They really were the forward-thinking firm. Her colleagues, Raymond, Jennifer, and so many others, accepted her. They understood her and treated her like a peer, not some cute little engineer wannabe like some of her classmates treated her.