The Pitch
The hallway outside the conference room is quieter than it should be. Jasmine stands just off to the side, laptop bag hanging from her shoulder, pen in hand. Click. Click. Click. She doesn’t realize she’s doing it until “Okay, relax.” Nia’s voice cuts in, low but firm. Jasmine stops, looks down at the pen like it personally offended her, then exhales. “I am relaxed.” Nia gives her a look. “Right. And I’m running this company.” Jasmine almost smiles. Almost. She shifts the strap on her shoulder, already running through everything again. “Slides are up?” “Up.” “Backup?” “Desktop, drive, and if all else fails, I’ll just start talking like I rehearsed.” Jasmine nods. “Don’t do that.” Nia smirks. “You’re right. That’s where things go left.” Jasmine huffs a quiet breath. “Pointer?” Nia lifts it. “Right here. Fully functional. I tested it. Twice. I care about your success.” Jasmine takes it, nodding again. “Okay. Good. Good.” She smooths down her blazer like that’s going to fix her nerves. Nia watches her for a second. “You’re good,” she says. “You know your stuff.” Jasmine nods. “I know.” A beat. Then quieter “I just need them to see it.” Nia’s expression softens just a little. “They will.” Jasmine glances toward the glass doors. Full room. Waiting. Judging. She straightens. One breath in. Then out. “Alright,” she says. And this time she means it.
The room shifts when she walks in. Not loud. Just enough. Enough to feel it. Jasmine doesn’t hesitate. Laptop down. Connected. Slides up. “Good morning,” she says. “I’ll keep this direct.” No one stops her. That’s all she needs. She starts. Numbers first. Then structure. Then risk. Clean. Controlled. No fluff. The pen stays in her hand, still now. A few heads nod. A few don’t. That’s fine. She keeps going. It’s working. Then “So what exactly is your endgame here?” The interruption slices clean through her sentence. Not accidental. Jasmine pauses. Just enough to acknowledge it. Her thumb presses against the pen. Click. Once. Then still. She looks up. Isaiah Jackson is leaned back in his chair, pen in hand, watching her like this is the part he’s been waiting for. Not rude. Worse. Casual. Jasmine keeps her tone even. “It’s outlined in the next” “No, I saw that,” he cuts in, sharper this time. “I’m asking what you expect to happen. Realistically.” A few people shift now. Someone sits up straighter. Jasmine clicks to the next slide anyway. Keeps control. “Growth,” she says. “Sustainable, if the structure is implemented correctly.” “You’re assuming cooperation,” he says immediately. “From departments that don’t cooperate.” A quiet murmur moves through the room. Jasmine’s fingers tighten slightly around the pen. Click. Soft. Controlled. She nods once. “I accounted for that.” “Did you,” he says, leaning forward now, voice just a little more pointed, “or did you hope they’d suddenly become easier to work with?” A small chuckle slips from somewhere down the table. Jasmine hears it. Doesn’t look. Click. Her thumb presses the pen again, quick, then still. “I don’t build strategies on hope.” That lands. For half a second, the room stills again. Zay tilts his head slightly. “Then what are you building it on?” Jasmine meets his gaze. Her hand stills completely now. “Data.” A beat. “Data can be wrong.” Someone snorts softly. Jasmine doesn’t break. “So can assumptions.” Another ripple. Louder this time. Now people are watching. Not her presentation. Her. Zay leans forward, elbows on the table. “And if you’re wrong?” The room tightens. Jasmine doesn’t blink. “Then we pivot before it costs us.” No hesitation. No over explanation. Just answer. A pause. Then from the far end “That’s a very expensive way to be wrong.” Light laughter this time. Not loud. But enough. Jasmine keeps her posture straight, expression neutral. “It’s more expensive not to move at all.” That cuts through it. Clean. Zay watches her for a second longer. Then leans back again. “Ambitious.” Different tone now. Harder to read. Jasmine clicks to her final slide anyway. Finishes what she started. Because she’s not about to let them derail her presentation completely. By the time she’s done, the energy has shifted. Not completely gone. But not hers anymore either. “We’ll review it,” someone says. Not Zay. Not anyone that matters. Just noise. Jasmine nods. “Of course.” She closes her laptop, slipping it into her bag like none of that touched her.
“Knight.” She stops. Of course she does. Turns slightly. Zay is already looking at her. Like the rest of the room doesn’t exist. “Send me your projections.” Jasmine blinks once. “You have them.” “I want the revisions.” A pause. “You don’t think they’re solid?” “I think you can make them better.” No embarrassment in his tone. No apology either. Just expectation. Jasmine adjusts her bag. “You’ll have them.” He nods once. Done. Then walks past her like that’s all he needed.
The hallway hits louder than the room. Voices. Phones. Movement. Normal. Nia is right where she left her. Watching. Jasmine walks past her. Nia immediately falls in step. “Okay,” she says quietly, “so we’re not going to act like that wasn’t a setup?” Jasmine presses the elevator button. “It was a meeting.” “He interrupted you three times.” “Twice.” Nia gives her a look. “You counted?” Jasmine exhales. “I always count.” Nia huffs. “That’s concerning.” The elevator doors open. They step inside. “That man does not talk to people like that,” Nia adds. Jasmine stares ahead. “He asked questions.” “He tried to trip you up.” A beat. Jasmine nods slightly. “He tested me.” Nia tilts her head. “And?” Jasmine finally looks at her. Calm. Steady. “He didn’t break me.” Nia smiles slow. “Yeah,” she says. “I saw that.” The doors close. And for the first time since she stepped into that room Jasmine’s hand finally goes still
