The keyboard clicking stopped instantly.
"Well, well, look who's here." Jessica leaned against Brittany's cubicle, clutching her eternal iced Americano. When she spotted me, she flashed that teeth-grinding fake smile. "I heard someone went psycho at the Ritz-Carlton ballroom last night and threw a whole glass of wine in our editor's face. What's this? Here to pack your crap and crawl back to the sticks with your crazy mother?"
Brittany immediately covered her mouth with exaggerated shock, letting out a shrill giggle. "Oh my God, Vivienne, were you so sexually frustrated you tried to force yourself on Gary and got rejected? With all that flab you can't lose, you can only seduce men in your dreams."
If this were yesterday, I probably would've bitten my lip, kept myhead down, stuffed my things in the box, and left with red-rimmed eyes like a deserter.
But today was different.
Last night, I walked arm-in-arm with a mob boss in front of Washington's elite and completely humiliated my cheating ex. I even signed a contract with that dangerous man worth enough to buy this trash magazine outright.
I stopped what I was doing, turned slowly, and leaned back against my desk with my arms crossed. I gave Jessica and Brittany the kind of look you'd give roadkill—slow and thorough.
"Jessica." I pulled my brightest, coldest smile. "You think moving that decimal point on last month's Prada sample report and almost getting the whole department sued just disappeared because of your pathetic IQ? If Gary hadn't given you 'private tutoring' in storage room three for a solid half hour—and if you hadn't walked out looking like you'd been through a hurricane, caught on camera—you think you'd still be standing here with your iced coffee?"
Jessica's smugness froze. Coffee sloshed onto her white blouse.
"You... you're lying!" she shrieked, face flushing.
"And you, Brittany." I ignored Jessica's tantrum and turned my blade-sharp gaze on the other woman. "That 'exclusive interview' you're so proud of? You misspelled the CEO's name. Your pitiful work skills are good for exactly one thing—gossiping in the break room about discount Botox. You garbage people can't even pull an Excel sheet. Where the hell do you get off mocking me?"
"What's going on! All this racket first thing in the morning!"
Gary's nasally bellow came from down the hall. His greasy, balding head appeared, gut straining against his shirt buttons as he charged over. When he spotted me in the middle of the crowd, his meaty face twisted into an ugly liver color.
"Vivienne Cole! You've got some nerve showing your face here!" Gary jabbed his finger at my nose, spittle flying. "I fired you last night! Get your trash out of my company now! Security! Call security!"
"Save it, Gary." I let out a cold laugh and brushed at my shoulder where he'd touched me yesterday, like I was wiping off a deadly virus. "Your little trick of threatening female employees with termination doesn't work on me anymore. You didn't fire me. I quit you."
I looked straight into his murky eyes, voice loud enough for the entire office to hear. "Here's some advice, Gary. Next time you try using your position to prey on female employees, take a shower first. Lose that disgusting gut. You smell like a dead rat—worse than garbage in a sewer!"
Dead silence fell over the office. Everyone sucked in their breath, staring at me like I was an alien.
Gary stood frozen. He never dreamed the hardworking assistant who worked overtime for a few hundred bucks in attendance bonuses would rip his fig leaf to shreds in front of everyone.
"You—" Gary's lips trembled.
I stood there with my arms crossed, watching him. He was just a parasite living off my blood. If I really left, all those tedious reports, the nightmare clients no one wanted, the source documents that needed checking all night—he'd have no one left to clean up his messes.
And now, judging by his expression, he'd realized it too.
"Wait, Vivienne." Gary's tone flipped 180 degrees. He forced out a smile uglier than crying and tried to grab my arm. "Last night... I just had too much to drink. I was joking with you. You're a talented girl, I know that. How about this—take back what you just said, and I'll promote you next month! I'll make you a full editor and raise your salary twenty percent... no, thirty! How's that?"
Watching his groveling, nauseating face, I felt nothing but satisfaction.
"Take your thirty percent and buy some hair growth serum." I slapped his hand away without mercy, picked up my box, and walked toward the door in my heels, spine straight, under everyone's shocked stares.
"Hope you all rot happily in this bankrupt dump of a company."
I kicked the glass door open with my heel and, with a sharp crash, said goodbye forever to my humiliating career.
I hummed all the way back to my cramped, shabbyapartment.
I tossed the box on the floor, dragged out a huge suitcase from under my bed, and started throwing clothes and toiletries inside. According to last night's contract, I had to move into that dangerous man's territory today.
Someone hammered on the apartment door.
I pulled it open. Mia burst in like a tornado. She wore a sharp khaki trench coat today, but her expression looked like she'd just witnessed the apocalypse.
