AllFreeNovel
Share Us
Natalie
Oh, God, what the fuck is wrong with me? Why am I acting like this? This isn’t me!I held it together through hours of court proceedings, hearing the cruelest and nastiest shit come out of the attorney’s mouth, and I kept my cool.
But what about now?Who am I?I feel like one of those trashy wrestlers, getting into catfights and slapping the shit out of reporters and referees alike. Who am I kidding? At least they make an honest living.
And at least they’ve got a skintight little wrestling number on when they’re being photographed. Unlike me.
Maybe it was the whiskey at lunch that set me off. Definitely not my normal... Or maybe this is all pent up from having to live like a nun for the last year.
What I need is to catch my breath and chill the fuck out. That first glass of whiskey wasgood, I shouldn’t blame it for my Weasel beating. I stood up so fast to run after the little wretch, I can’t remember if I got a chance to taste it a second time. Maybe I should have slammed it before running outside.
At least that would have explained my actions. I massage my temples as I turn into the park. I like this area. It’s usually a nice little respite from the hustle of the office. It was one of the few places I’d chance being in public for the last year.
My mood begins to brighten a little as I walk down the path and I see dogs lounging with their owners. Everyone’s keeping to themselves, mostly reading. Oh, fuck. I stop short as I pass a park bench and seemyself, splayed open on the cover of a tabloid.
It’s like a goddamn horror movie.
I turn around, trembling, only to see someone else reading the same stupid tabloid. Even the guy with the dog is holding one! My head starts to spin, and I immediately keep my head down, shuffling through my purse for my sunglasses.
It seems that everywhere I look, someone is reading that trash. There I am again, and there’s Roger’s ass over and over and over. I whip my sunglasses on and try to slow to a normal pace. No sense drawing attention to myself.
I take a second to peek over at another bench. The man folds the tabloid up, nodding his head thoughtfully before looking up at me. I try to look past him, nonchalant. He scrutinizes me for a second, then continues people watching.
Phew,seems like I’m not being noticed at least. I must be unrecognizable with clothes on. Isn’t that lucky... I try to enjoy the rest of my park walk, but it proves impossible. Everywhere I turn, I see those stupid censor signs covering Roger and me.
It disgusts me.
I turn around to head back to the office. Now that the adrenaline (and the whiskey) has worn off, I’m feeling pretty terrible, and more than a little concerned. It felt great to beat the shit out of the Weasel, and it’s been a long time coming. But what happens now?
As I reminded him earlier, there are very real consequences for people who aren’t Roger Zane. Throwing my glasses back in my purse, I walk through the revolving door to the office. I try to gauge if anyone in the lobby or front desk is treating me different. That’s usually a bad sign.
It seems like almost everyone is avoiding my eyes, and not in a “she’s intimidating” kind of way, definitely not a good sign. I get into the elevator and take a deep breath.
You’re fine, Natalie. It’s been a shit day, but you’ve done an amazing job for this company. No one can replace you. You’re fine.
The elevator door opens and my heart drops, like an elevator plummeting sixteen flights. Gabby is waiting for me. The bitch looks like the cat that got the canary, with the snide little side smile I’ve come to detest.
“They want to see you,” Gabby smirks, gesturing down the hall to the main boardroom.Fuck.My face becomes etched in steel as I brush past her, allowing my purse to swing into her gut on the way. I hear her whine an overdramatic ‘ouch!’ but I don’t care.
I knock on the door and enter. Immediately, the sound goes out of the room and all eyes are on me. It’s painfully clear this meeting is a lot less friendly. It’s possible the panini maker went out at lunch, but more likely than not, this has something to do with my lunch date with the Weasel.
“Sit down, Ms. Aschcroft.” It’s not a request. It’s a demand.
I take my seat and try to steady my hammering heart.
“Are you aware that your little lunch incident is already plastered all over the internet?” one of the board members hisses, his face turning a rancid shade of purple.
“I want to apologize for —”
“I am not finished speaking!”Definitelymuch less friendly. “In the short time from our meeting earlier to now, you have somehow managed to further disgrace yourself!”
I grip the sides of the chair to keep from shrieking back at this blue hair.I’ve already been on trial, asshole; you have no idea what I’ve been through!
“Slapping yourcohort, yourbedfellow,Playboy disaster billionaire, Roger Zane, in public!” The purple board member retires and another takes over to continue swinging.
“Ms. Ashcroft, not only are there witnesses, but there is video evidence of you not only having your hands against Mr. Zane, but also on a photographer! Many accounts claim he was an innocent bystander to your zealous rage!”
I can’t stand it any longer. “With all due respect, that photographer is a known —”
