I’ve seriously considered calling the police and having Florence arrested for assault. It would be a real highlight to my day to see that bitch hauled away in handcuffs while the whole of the company watched on. But then I considered the ramifications.
Not only would I be put dead center on everyone’s radar as the new woman who got her boss arrested—a woman who, for all I know, has been a model employer—it would cause questions. Questions that would place both me and Rebel under the spotlight. I have no doubt that when Florence came back she’d be more than happy to fill everyone in. Hell, she’d probably send out a newsletter.
So, no. I’ve decided to play it smart. Give Rebel one last chance to sort out his personal life with this crazy woman before I break out the big guns and take her down at the kneecaps.
I’m fantasizing about my methodology as I head back to my office. With everything that just happened, I’m in no state to be here anymore, but I can’t afford the loss of pay if I leave early.
Darren is away from his desk when I arrive back on the third floor. It’s just as well. He’d definitely pick up on my sour mood and connect the dots. I already know that I’m going to have to explain that kiss between Rebel and me this morning. I dash a quick glance at the clock, noting that I have less than an hour to get my thoughts in order before I have to face him.
The moment I enter my office heads rise and six sets of eyes land on me. Instantly, I know I’ve been the topic of recent conversation. One look at Jenna and I guess who the culprit is behind it all.
I would expect most people to get nervous and look away, not wanting to be found out, but she’s bold. She’s looking dead in my eyes as I walk past with her chin held high and this air of arrogance surrounding her.
The warning bells sound in my head. What is she up to? What has she told them? Whatever it is, it must be bad. Immediately, I reflect back on every moment of being at the conference table, trying to figure out what, exactly, could have been used against me.
Other than the obvious, that I’m new to the team and lack vital experience and that one of the owners is against having me on board, I can’t see what could be so interesting. Unless that’s exactly what they find so entertaining. It’s human nature, after all, to want to see the aftermath of a tragic event.
Well, they’re going to be sadly disappointed because I’m not going anywhere. Rebel and the rest of the men at that table made that perfectly clear.
Secure in the knowledge that I still have a job and no one is going to push me out, I seat myself behind my desk and stare out at each of my coworkers, focusing on them one by one until they shift their gazes away and get back to their jobs.
The only one who refuses to be intimidated is Jenna. Her eyes hold mine, narrowing to hateful slits. Can she really be that upset over the photographer? Well, if that’s the case, then too damn bad for her. I came here to do a job, and if she doesn’t like it, then tough shit. Rebel was right. I won’t get anywhere trying to save people’s feelings. She’s just going to have to learn to deal.
In the half hour that I have left until my break, I manage to get a lot done. It’s easy to get into work when it doesn’t feel like work. Once again, I can’t help thinking of how much I enjoy my job. I should send a thank you card to Jack for giving me a chance because I never would have made it where I am now without his help. When I decided to major in liberal arts, I never considered working in an office and on computers a possibility. I’d always just envisioned myself sitting in a cold, desolate room surrounded by canvas and covered in paint splatter, getting by through the money I made pandering my paintings.
My reality is much better than my imaginings.
When Darren comes to collect me, he takes notice of the tension in the room. How could he not? It’s thick enough to have to swim through it. I catch a few wandering eyes as we leave the room, but I pay it no mind, telling myself that they can think whatever they want of me.
“Who’s Cheerios did you piss in?” Darren asks as we head down the hall toward the elevators.
“Apparently Jenna’s, but it looks like she gathered her minions to back her up.”
“Well damn.”
I nod, agreeing wholeheartedly with the sentiment. Damn indeed.
***
“So you’re dating,” Darren muses over a cup of java. “I’m officially green with envy.”
“You can’t be envious. You have a boyfriend.”
“And a wonderful one at that,” Darren defends. “But you know the grass is always greener on the other side of the fence, and there’s nothing wrong with admiring the grass.”
I guess he has a point. I’ve done my fair share of admiring over the years. “Okay,” I shrug lightly. “You can admire. Anything beyond that though...?” I raise my brows in mock warning.
“Oh, please. As if you have to even worry about such a thing? Lady, you have that man wrapped around your perfectly tapered fingertip.”
My what, now? Chuckling to myself, I lift my cup of coffee and drink deeply. “So what do you think I should do about Jenna?”
Slicing his hand through the air, Darren gulps down his coffee before answering. “Ignore her. If she’s so upset over cutting corners and getting found out, then that’s her problem. She’s been here long enough to know better. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Yeah, I know. You’re right. I just hate that I’ve been here for what, a couple weeks, and already I’ve made an enemy.” Or a roomful of them, if those sidelong looks they gave me were any indication. “It just doesn’t bode well for my future. I knew it wasn’t a good idea to take a job in the same building as Rebel worked, but it was too good an offer to pass up.”
“Don’t go adopting that defeatist attitude,” Darren chides. “Didn’t your mother ever teach you that not everyone in life is going to like you?”
I drop my gaze to the cup between my hands. “My mother is dead, so no. She didn’t really get the chance, but I already know that I can’t please everyone. That’s just life.”
“Damn, Josephine, I’m sorry.” His face scrunched up, Darren reaches across the table to pat the top of my hand. “Sometimes I really stick my foot in it. How did it happen?”
“Brain tumor,” I tell him as memories flash in front of my eyes. I can still see my mother, thin, frail, barely a shell of the vibrant woman who taught me how to read my first book, tie my shoes, curl my hair, and so much more, lying in that hospital bed hooked up to a bunch of machines. Sometimes I wonder if that vision will ever go away or if it will haunt me forever.
Darren clicks his tongue in empathy. “I’m very sorry for your loss.”
Pulling my hand back, I play off the emotions that have begun welling up. This is the last thing I want to get into, with anyone. “It was a long time ago. I’m over it.”
He passes me a skeptical look. Apparently, I’m not very convincing, but I’m not about to acknowledge that he’s right. It will just lead back to more heavy crap, and I am so done with heavy today.
“So, besides Jenna and the stick wedged up her ass, what are you planning to do about the big boss lady?”
I blow out a long, heavy breath. Just thinking about Florence taxes me mentally. “I don’t even know. I wish I would have hit her back, you know? Just to even the playing field.” I keep playing that moment back, retelling it so that I come out on top. “It just kills me to think that she’s off somewhere thinking that she’s won.”
“She hasn’t won a damn thing and she knows it. It sounds to me like your boyfriend hit below the belt. If anything, she was crushed. I know I would be if a man that beautiful told me he used me and was dropping me for another woman.”
“So what do you think she’s doing? Off somewhere licking her wounds?” I ask him. “I just don’t see her doing that.”
“No, and neither do I.” Shaking his head, Darren whirls the little red straw around in his cup. “If I had to guess, a woman like that? Someone who’s probably spent years clawing her way up to the top of the business ladder, playing with the good old boys, is probably plotting her revenge.”
“Against me?” Hell, what did I ever do to her? Except steal the man she’s in love with.
“You, Mr. Scott, the world. Someone like her probably has bigger cojones than me so I wouldn’t put anything past her. Put her in a prison cell, and I’d bet money she’d be the first person to cut a bitch.”
“The sad thing is I can totally see that.” Finishing off my coffee, I gather my trash and stand. Pointing at him I say, “You see. The grass isn’t always greener.”
Darren accompanies me to the trash, and we pitch our garbage inside. “Just tell me one thing,” he says, holding the door open for me. “Where are you planning to sleep tonight? Your bed or his?”
I don’t even have to think about it. Rebel told me this morning, under no uncertain terms, that I was spending the night at his place so I can help him start packing for the move to his new apartment. “His.”
Darren’s lips purse and one brow arches up. “Definitely greener on your side of the fence.”