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I hadn’t misheard that phone call; there was nothing Chuck could do without Hunter’s approval for the buyout. He had attached the relevant clause in the board articles, as well as quoted it in the body of the e-mail: because of the family name, Hunter had to agree to a sell-off.
“Yes!” I whispered fiercely, and gave the air a small victory punch.
And then I heard a noise outside the office.
Shit. Shit shit shit. Who else would be here at this time of night? Housekeeping, yes, but they started vacuuming on the other side of the building, I should have had—I checked my watch—a good fifteen minutes yet. And Security stayed down at their desk eating take-out unless they had a good reason to go elsewhere and I had avoided their cameras, I knew I had—
Well, it didn’t matter. Someone was out there, and probably getting closer every second I dithered over what to do.
I closed Outlook and stood. I would have liked to print the e-mails for proof, but Hunter was just going to have to trust me. I cast a quick eye over the room to make sure that everything was still in place as quickly as I could, and ducked out of the office, scurrying down the hall until I was far enough that I felt safe slowing down to a casual walk.
…a casual walk right around the corner, and then almost directly into my boss.
We both jerked back, startled.
“What are you doing here?” I blurted.
“I—I could ask you the same, missy,” my boss stammered before pulling himself together and managing a more affirmative: “What on earth is keeping you here at this time of night?”
“Just working late,” I said innocently. My palms sweated as I lied; I forced myself not to wipe them on my dress and give myself away. “Catching up, you know. There’s still a lot of stuff I need to get done.”
“Your desk is over there,” he pointed out, suspicion beginning to creep into his eyes.
“My legs were cramping up; I needed to stretch them,” I said. “Besides, sometimes you need a little mental break, you know? To keep from going stir-crazy.”
“Hmmph,” he said. “Well, I hope you’re not expecting to get paid for these ‘mental breaks.’”
Asshole. “Of course not, sir.”
“Good.” He fussed with his tie, straightening it. “Where are you at with the hygiene products, then?”
“Almost finished!” I as**sured him. “Just waiting to hear back from Sandra. And I’m halfway through those forms you left for me. When I’m done, if there are any projects that need taking on—”
“Everything’s already been as**signed several months out,” he interrupted. “And we can’t give you anything until your schedule’s more regular, you understand? Of course, after the way things went last time, we think it’s best to take it slow, give you a nice soft ball out of the park.”
Could he be any more patronizing?
“I appreciate the consideration,” I said through gritted teeth. “But I’m sure that this family emergency will have cleared up in a month, and if you look at the numbers—”
“Advertising isn’t solely a numbers game, my dear,” he said condescendingly. “It’s an art. You need to have a feel for the client, an instinct for their point of view. A sort of Hemingway-esque ability to immediately grasp the situation. And, well, with so many CEOs being men, women just often aren’t able to bridge that gap. Not a reflection on you at all, my dear, just the truth.”
“But if you look at the actual results that that approach is getting, if you look at the way sales and share prices are tanking on the Dou—on Chad’s projects, for example—” I started to protest.
“My dear, please,” my boss said, a frown crossing his brow. He disliked it intensely whenever anyone didn’t help keep up the fa?ade of his feminist credo, and here I’d gone on challenging him for a whole fifteen seconds. It would not stand. “Do you really think you’re helping your case by crying on my shoulder here? Now, be a good girl and go back to your office and do your work without complaining, and if it’s good enough, I’ll think about letting you try again in a year.”
And then, just like that, all my anger crystallized into a clear vision of the future. And I knew exactly what I had to do. I nodded to myself, a grin spreading over my face.
“Actually, sir, you know what I think would work better?”
“My dear, I as**sure you—”
“I quit.”
My words hit him like a gunshot, and I spun on my heel and strode away, savoring the memory of the stunned look on his face, still hearing his inarticulate spluttering.
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