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1341 Words
I leaned across the table, and the hubbub of the busy restaurant faded as I tried to control my fury. I fought the urge to scream and kept my voice low, even though every word oozed with anger.
"What did you say? I'm sure I didn't hear you correctly."
David settled back in his chair, not the least bit concerned about my anger.
"I said Tyler's getting promoted to partner."
I gripped the glass in my hand so tightly I was surprised I didn't break it.
"That promotion was supposed to be mine."
He shrugged.
"Things have changed."
"I've worked my ass off. I brought in nine million to the firm. You told me if I
beat last year, I'd be a partner."
David waved a hand.
"And Tyler brought in twelve million."
I slammed my palm against the table, not caring whether it caught anyone's attention or not.
"That's because the bastard screwed me over and took the client away from me. The idea for the campaign was mine. He took me out!"
"It's your word against his, Richard."
"Bullshit. This is bullshit!"
"The decision's been made, and the proposal's been made. Work hard, and maybe next year will be your year."
"So that's it?"
"That's it. You've earned a generous bonus."
"A bonus."
I didn't want another damn bonus. I wanted the promotion. It should have been mine.
I stood up so fast I knocked over my chair, which hit the floor hard. I straightened up to emphasize my six foot six inch height and frowned at him. Considering David was
no taller than six foot seven inches, he seemed very small sitting down.
David raised an eyebrow.
"Careful, Richard. Remember, at Anderson Inc., it's all about teamwork. You're still part of the team. An important part."
I glared at him, suppressing the urge to tell him to f**k off.
"The team. Right."
I walked away, shaking my head.
I went back to work and slammed the door. My assistant looked at me, surprised. She had a half-eaten sandwich in her hand.
"What the hell did I tell you about eating at the table?" I blurted.
She stood up awkwardly.
"It's... you were out," she stammered. "I'm working on your expenses, and I thought..."
"Well, you've got the wrong idea, damn it." I leaned across the table and took the damn sandwich out of her hand,
grimacing at the atrocity. "Peanut butter and jelly? Doesn't your salary stretch
for more or something?" I swore as the jam smeared the hem of my jacket. "f**k!"
Her face, already white, lost even more color when she saw the red stain spreading across my gray suit.
"Mr. VanRyan, I'm so sorry. I'll take you to the cleaners right now."
"You're certainly going to. And while you're leaving, I want a sandwich."
She blinked.
"You... you didn't go out to lunch?"
"Your conclusion is wrong again. Get me a sandwich and a coffee with skim milk, with extra foam. I want Brian Maxwell on the phone right now." I took off my jacket impatiently and made sure the pockets were empty. "Take it to the cleaners. I want it back this afternoon."
She continued to sit there staring at me, her mouth hanging open.
"Are you deaf?"
"What would you like me to do first?"
I threw the jacket at her.
"That's your damn job. Figure it out and do it!"
I walked into my office and slammed the door.
Fifteen minutes later I had my sandwich and my latte. The intercom rang.
"I have Mr. Maxwell on line two."
"Good." I picked up the phone. "Brian. I need to see you. Today."
"I'm fine. Thanks for asking, Richard."
"I'm not in the mood. When are you available?"
"I'm booked all afternoon."
"Cancel something."
"I'm not even in town. I can be there by seven at the earliest."
"Okay. See you at Finlay's. Our usual table." I hung up and pressed the intercom button. "Come right now."
The door opened and she walked in, prostrate at my feet. Literally. I didn't even bother to hide the fact that I'd rolled my eyes in disgust. I'd never met anyone as clumsy as her in my life. She tripped over air! I swore she spent more time on her knees than the women I dated. I waited until she stood up, picked up her notebook, and found her pen. Her face was flushed and her hand was shaking.
"Yes, Mr. VanRyan?"
"My table at Finlay's. For seven o'clock sharp. Reserve it. Your jacket had better be ready then."
"I ordered express service. Oh, it's more expensive."
I raised my eyebrows.
"I'm sure you'd be happy to pay the extra, considering it was your fault."
Her blush deepened, but she didn't argue with me.
"I'll pick it up in an hour."
I waved a hand. I didn't care what time I picked it up, as long as I had it in my possession before I left the office.
" "Mr. VanRyan?"
"What?"
"I have to leave at four today. I have an appointment. I emailed you about it last week.
I didn't bother to reply."
I drummed my fingers on the table as I watched her. My assistant, Katharine Elliott, the bane of my existence. I'd done everything in my power to get rid of her, but it had all been in vain. No matter what I ordered her to do, she got it done. No matter how humiliating the task. Pick up my dry cleaning? Yes. Make sure my private bathroom was stocked with my favorite toiletries and condoms? Of course. Alphabetize my vast CD collection after I decided to bring it to the office? Without fail. She even boxed them all up after I'd "thought better" and decided to send them back to my house, pristine and in order. She didn't say a peep. Send flowers and a goodbye message to the woman on duty who wanted to get rid of me that month or week? Yeah. She went to the office every day without fail and was never late. She rarely left unless it was to run an errand I'd assigned her or to sneak off to the staff room, where she'd have lunch on one of those ridiculous homemade sandwiches I'd forbidden her to eat at her desk. She kept my schedule and contacts up to date; she filed reports in the color code I liked; and she screened my calls, making sure none of my numerous exes bothered me. From what I'd been told, everyone liked her, she never forgot a birthday, and she baked delicious cookies that she shared on special occasions. She was f*****g perfection. I couldn't stand her. She was everything I hated in a woman. Small and delicate, with dark hair and blue eyes. She dressed in simple skirt suits. Impeccable, neat, and completely old-fashioned. Her hair was always tied back in a bun. She wore no jewelry, and from what I'd observed, she didn't wear makeup either. She was unattractive in the slightest and didn't have the self-respect to do anything about it. Timid and shy, she was easy to walk all over. She never stood up for herself, took everything I threw at her, and never offered no for an answer. I liked strong women with personality. Not doormats like Miss Elliott. However, I had to put up with her. "Okay. But don't make a habit of it, Miss Elliott." For a moment, I thought I saw an angry glint in her eyes, but she finally nodded. "I'll pick up your jacket and put it in the closet." You have a conference call at two, and there's another one set up in the conference room." He indicated the files resting on a corner of my desk. "There are your notes."
"My expenses?"
"I'll finish the report shortly and leave it for you to sign."
"Okay. You're free to go."
He paused in the doorway.
"Have a good night, Mr. VanRyan."
I didn't bother to reply.
- Writer
