Page 33 of Hunted By Them

“Do you know how unprofessional this is?” She began without preamble, planting her palms on her tidy desk. “The courtesy of notice is not an unreasonable expectation.”

“I was lost in the forest with no cell service.” Even to my ears, it sounded like an excuse for not having done my work. “Did you not see it on the news? There was a storm and⁠—”

“I don’t care about the storm. You have dates that need to be met, and you shouldn’t have gone anywhere, forest or otherwise, without completing the biggest marketing proposal of the year,” Margaret declared, like we were never allowed to have lives. “Out-of-office messages exist. It reflects poorly on the team when one of us simply vanishes.”

My mouth fell open. That didn’t even make sense.

“I didn’t simply vanish. There were rangers and police and…”

I stopped, because explaining survival to a woman who weaponized Outlook felt deranged.

She narrowed her eyes. “Is this about the promotion? Because if you are pulling some stunt to garner sympathy, it’s not going to change the decision. You didn’t get the job because you’re simply not as good as Todd. This little…episode—doesn’t help your case.”

I was dying to ask what Todd was better at, because I had a pretty good idea. It had nothing to do with his marketing proposal.

The laughter that bubbled up this time tasted like bitter ash on my tongue.

“Right…okay then,” I snapped, not giving a crap if I sounded rude. “Noted, Margaret. Can I go?”

She glared, but I was beyond caring. It was clear that I needed to leave this job.

Margaret huffed and sat down, organizing the folders on her desk like she actually worked.

“Will you be working today, or are you going to disappear again? We have a 10 a.m. with the Baker Corporation, and your projections summary is⁠—”

“I’ll have it,” I said, cutting her off.

“Fine.” She waved her hand as if giving me a papal blessing and turned to her screen. “Close the door on your way out.”

I walked out fuming and muttering all the way to my cubicle. The monitor sat black and silent, the keyboard waited, and the plant in the corner was drooping. Opening my water bottle, I poured half of it onto my little plant that had been a five-year gift from the company. A plant…they got me a plant. No bonus, no trip, no watch, not even my own office, despite being the most productive project manager they had. All I warranted was a ten-inch bit of greenery.

Mind you, I kind of loved Ferny. She never talked back or said anything stupid to piss me off.

I sat down, opened my laptop, and pulled up the Baker folder. Words swam for a moment, then resolved into tasks, bullet points, and deadlines. My fingers moved. The part of me that had been built for this life focused in and worked.

An hour later, my brain buzzed like a trapped fly, and my bladder announced itself. I stood, stretched, and headed for the bathroom while I tried to decide if I should have vanilla or caramel in my second coffee of the day.

When I walked into the fancy bathroom, Mary, Margaret’s assistant, was at the sink. She was dabbing mascara streaks off her cheeks with a rough paper towel that just made everything worse. She froze when she saw me in the mirror and tried to smile like she hadn’t been crying.

“Oh,” she said, voice strained. “Sorry. My contacts are⁠—”

“I know that lie.” I walked into one of the stalls, grabbed a wad of toilet paper, dampened it with warm water, and handed it to her. “Here. It’s softer. Do you want to tell me what is really going on, or do you just want me to stand here until the tears stop? I make a great bathroom wing woman,” I offered with a little smile.

Mary was a sweet soul, too sweet to work here for the Cruella wannabe.

“She…” Mary bit her lip hard enough to leave a dent. “Margaret told me that I screwed up her calendar and she missed a meeting. But I didn’t. She told me the meeting was next week. When I reminded her, she said to stop being so juvenile. Then she said that she already had to put up with my tardiness, the fact that her tea is always cold, and that my tone with vendors is too friendly. Then…” Mary started to cry all over again, her lower lip trembling as she fought off the emotion. “Then she said that if I want to be taken seriously, I should stop wearing pink because it makes me look ancient.”

She tugged at the pretty pink cardigan and then stared at herself in the mirror. Mary wasn’t old, and she looked great, but I knew she had been suffering with low self-esteem ever since her husband had taken off last year. Margaret knew that, too, which made her an even worse human than I originally thought.

“She also said that maybe it would be wise for me to consider other opportunities if I can’t hack it.” She covered her mouth. “No one will want to hire a forty-two-year-old with a bad recommendation and a high school diploma. I can’t afford to lose this job.”

Stepping forward, I grabbed Mary and pulled her into a hug. “Margaret is…” I hunted for a word that wasn’t a lawsuit waiting to happen. “A lot, but it’s all bull. You do a great job, and everyone knows this office would fall apart without you.”

Mary sniffed but smiled. “You mean that?”

“Of course I do. I have eyes, and so does everyone else. Trust me, we all know how great you are. She would be a fool to let you go.”

“Thanks, Sage.” Stepping back, Mary blew her Rudolph-red nose. “Margaret said you ghosted the team because they gave Todd the promotion. She claimed you went off to find yourself. I told her that people don’t usually do that by getting lost in a national park.”