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I removed myself from the premises as quickly as humanly possible. I was marching to the elevator when I realized I’d forgotten my employee card on Gretchen’s desk.
Though seeing those two again was the last thing I wanted, I couldn’t walk in and out of the building freely without it. With a groan, I made a U-turn. The door to her office was slightly ajar. Just enough for their conversation to drift to the hallway and into my ears.
“... no one even gave her acard, Riggs. I always knew she was stuck up, butwow, the girl is unlikable.”
My heart fell to the pit of my stomach like a ten-ton stone. They were talking about me. Agony ripped through my chest, which I couldn’t make sense of, because none of this came as a surprise.
I knew what people thought of me. That I was a slow-burn gold digger, an overachieving she wolf; no one had ever bothered to askwhyI was the way I was. People just wrote me off. Put me in the stereotypical box and shelved me in the Do Not Befriend category.
Riggs answered in a deep, low tone, but I couldn’t decipher his words.
Gretchen sighed in response. “All I’m saying is, make sure you don’t get too involved with her. She’s sodaunting.” I dug my teeth into my lower lip until it bled. “And ... between you and me?” Gretchen dropped her voice an octave. “Not the most trustworthy employee. There are a few designer items missing from my wardrobe.”
An electric shock of rage sizzled through my body. How dare she? I’d never stolen as much as a pencil from her desk. She’d trusted me with her apartment code. With her credit card. With herchildren!
“Didyouget her anything?” Riggs asked, ignoring the heavily implied theft claim.
“Me?” the cow replied. “Well, it’s not like I had time, between Lyric’s birthday and the move to DC. And besides, she doesn’t deserve it.”
There was a pregnant pause.
“Don’t look at me like that! Might I remind you she isblackmailingus?”
I decided then and there to do the first uncalculated thing in my life since I’d been born. I burst straight into her office, not bothering to close the door behind me. I dumped her gifts onto the floor, bowing deeply with a flourish.
“Here, Your Majesty. Want to know why nobody gave me a card?” I shrieked, knowing full well I probably looked as sweaty and deranged as I felt. “Let me tell you why. Because ofyou, Gretchen. You made me the villain in this studio. True, I was never the most approachable human being to begin with, butyouinsisted I fire any assistant that was too tardy, too loud, too slow, too blonde, too much bloody competition!” My voice shook, much like the rest of my body. Behind me, a cluster of WNT employees gathered, peeking curiously. I saw them through the glass walls bracketing Gretchen’s office.
“When you needed someone to be told off, you sent me to do it. When the stylist made you look like Big Bird, I was the one who had to write her a scalding review. Whenever you had an oopsie on air, you blamed it on me.” I stubbed my chest with my finger. “I was the only executive assistant at WNT who never socialized with anyone else, becauseyouforbade it. You were so scared I’d spill one of your trade secrets, you would barely let me grab a coffee with the runners!”
I knew I shared some of the responsibility as to why I was about as popular as Neapolitan ice cream within WNT hallways. I never made a genuine effort, but to pretend the fault fell squarely on my shoulders was ridiculous.
“Don’t blame me!” Gretchen tossed her hands up, her roar very nearly throwing me across the room. “Hold yourself accountable for the way people perceive you. You’re in charge of your own behavior.”
“Oh, Iamto blame!” I laughed shrilly. “I’m beyond responsible for doing your ugly bidding. You molded me into your perfect little machine.” I pointed my index finger at her face. “Knowing I couldn’t quit because the channel was sponsoring my visa. You abused your power.” I laughed incredulously. “No wonder you ended up in politics.”
The silence that followed was so loud I swore I could hear people in Maine asking one another what they should have for supper tonight. I peered behind my shoulder. There were at least fifty WNT employees behind me, their phones directed at Gretchen and me, recording my public showdown.
Time to do something, Duffy. Anything at all. Whenever you’re ready. Preferably this year, though.
It was obvious Gretchen was too stunned to produce words. Not that I wanted her to. I couldn’t believe I’d behaved so commonly. So crudely. I’d always measured every action of mine carefully, desperate to be a Goody Two-Shoes.
Do something. Right. Now.
I snatched a box of Godiva from her desk and waved it in my boss’s face. “You don’t deserve this good chocolate. I’m taking it with me. This is my goodbye present. My ‘Thank you for your service, Duffy.’ Don’t forget to check out all of the thirty-five toilets in the White House. We all know how full of shit you are!”
Okay, maybe not that.
Nonetheless, the deed had been done. And so, committed to my public fall from grace, I tornadoed out of her office, after which I anticlimactically waited for the lift for three minutes under excruciatingly dumbfounded gazes before it pinged open.
To make matters worse, Gretchen’s assistant number two, Billy, appeared next to me, a pile of flower bouquets in her hands. She, too, was helping my boss with getting rid of all the goodbye presents.
“Hi, Duffy.” She pushed her reading glasses up her nose.
“Hey, Billy.” I rubbed my forehead tiredly.
“There’s something you need to know,” she said in a hushed voice when we entered the lift and the doors closed. I angled my face toward her. Had I spoken the mind of the entire office? Were people cheering for me? Had I become her role model? Hope bubbled in my chest.
But Billy looked unnaturally pink and insisted on staring at a spot above my head. “I think you got your period. When you made that speech? There was a red stain showing.”
