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PJ Harlowe
“Harlowe, we need you on this project. The client has specifically requested that you take point. I assured him that it would be completed in the next six weeks.”
PJ Harlowe took a deep breath trying hard not to roll her eyes at her boss, who insisted on calling everyone by their last name. She was sitting across from him in the executive conference room doing everything in her power not to explode. She was thankful for the interior decorator in that moment. The woman had the foresight to include Eurotech Nuvem armchairs in her design of this room. It may have kept PJ from strangling the life out of Mr. Brewster. The chair was so comfortable it allowed her to relax, relate and release before speaking.
The man knew she had just been assigned two new accounts to manage that required a majority of her time, and now he wanted her to take on a third with no warning and very little time to complete them. What the hell was his problem? Nate Andrews sat right next to her, and he only had one account in his portfolio. He was quite capable of taking care of this new account or taking over one of her others, but of course he would never volunteer to help.
Why would he? Her ex-boyfriend, who recently proposed to her arch enemy, Karen Bandele, would pour gasoline on her if she was on fire. There was no way he would knowingly do anything to make her life easier. He got by doing as little work as possible so he could go golfing every Friday with the boss. It was their usual M.O. Dump all the work on the smart female to keep her busy. That way she wouldn’t ask to come along on the golf outings. Everyone knew it was only for men. They had become very creative in keeping the vaginas away from the all-boys club. Nobody wanted a lawsuit, so they simply made it impossible for women to have free time.
“Mr. Brewster, I already have the Bromley account as well as the Owens account to oversee. This new account is going to be a bit much to juggle. Why not give it to, I don’t know someone like Andrews, who doesn’t have as much on his plate?”
Mr. Brewster’s face turned a burnt red as his mouth morphed into a fake smile that covered his entire round fat face. Andrews cleared his throat and shifted in his chair. He looked amused as he glanced back and forth between Mr. Brewster and PJ. She didn’t miss the smirk between Nate and Karen, who was sitting pompously across the table from them. Bitch.
“Now, Harlowe, you know I can’t do that. Mr. Wyatt asked for you personally. And what’s my policy on client satisfaction?” Mr. Brewster asked smugly.
“The client gets whatever the client wants,” PJ mumbled pathetically.
What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she stand up for herself when it came to her boss. She had no problem with this in any other aspect of her life but put her in front of that five-foot two-inch bastard and she folded.
“That’s right! So you will handle Mr. Wyatt’s account, as well as the other two. It’s not like you have kids or a husband waiting at home for you. What else do you have to do?”
That remark cut her deep, especially since Nate had put a five-carat emerald cut diamond on the bitch she hated most in the world. The damn thing was gleaming across the table mocking her as the words fell out of the little man’s mouth. It felt like her face was cracking as she forced herself to smile at the balding man with horned rim glasses. Maybe if she took the crystal pitcher of water that sat in the middle of the table and smashed it upside his head, it would knock some sense into him. She was jolted out of her violent fantasy as everyone stood to leave the room. Well, damn.
PJ stood from her seat, collected her tablet from the holder on the chair and marched as quickly as she could to her office on the other side of the building. With her shoulders slumped and her head down, she looked like a stepchild who had been told she wasn’t allowed to go to the ball like her step siblings. She rushed past her assistant, Pam, hoping the astute woman would have mercy on her and not pry into her business. That hope was demolished almost as soon as it entered her head.
“PJ, what’s wrong? You look like someone set your favorite pair of Jimmy Choos on fire and threw the charred remains in the trash afterwards. What happened? Did Tiny Tim insult you again?”
Her assistant was the excitable type. Always asking a million questions and not giving her enough time to answer any of them. Today, the slew of questions was too much for PJ to handle. Ushering Pam into her office, she slammed the door behind her. Turning towards her friend she wiped her hand over her face and shut her eyes for a second. After a few deep breaths, she opened her eyes and began to explain the horror of her day.
“Oh, my freakin’ god! Pam, you will never believe what that man did. The way he looked at me over the rim of his glasses. Judging me. I swear I wanted to pluck is eyeballs out with my pen. He even had the nerve to fix his smug mouth into a fake ass smile.”
“So, I guess you aren’t invited to the next golf outing.”
“Not even close. He made sure of that by piling on another account onto my plate. He’s freakin’ ridiculous with his demands. As if I am not already busting my ass on less than five hours of sleep a night. Now I have to learn to operate on three.”
“And let me guess, he didn’t even think about assigning the account to his little crony, Andrews.”
“Winner, winner, chicken dinner. That lazy prick just sat there all smug looking at me with mirth in his eyes. If do as little work as possible had an award, he would be world champion.”
PJ walked over to her desk and plopped down in her seat ready to get back to work. Just then her office door burst open with Mr. Brewster taking up the open space. PJ immediately sat up straight in her seat as Pam attempted to look like she was doing work instead of gossiping.
“Harlowe, I need you to drop what you’re doing and get me the Bromley financial report.”
She took a deep breath and counted to three before responding to her boss. The man was a complete idiot.
“I sent you the Bromley financials this morning before the meeting. It should be in your email.”
“Well, as you can see, I am not at my desk. Pull it up and print it out for me.”
Immediately, PJ’s head started to pound. As she began to rub her temples all kinds of evil thoughts ran through her mind. Stabbing her boss in the neck with a pair of scissors came to mind, but she couldn’t figure a way to do that and stay out of jail. Nope, that would not be good. Instead she smiled broadly and pressed the print button on the screen. Her printer fired up but stopped printing on page two of ten because it needed ink.
“Hurry up Harlowe. I don’t have all damn day!”
That was it. The straw that broke the camel’s back. There was no way this bastard was going to stand in her office piling work on her back and have the audacity to curse at her. She had to draw the line somewhere and this was it. Her eyes shot up from the printer as she glared at the short fat balding man, PJ said nothing. She simply stopped messing with the printer, opened her bottom desk drawer to retrieve her purse and grabbed the framed picture of her and her best friend, Lattimore, from her desk. After shoving the picture in her purse, she slung the strap over her shoulder and kicked off her heels that had been killing her feet all day. This was something she usually saved for the end of the day when she entered her home. At the moment her bank of fucks to give was depleted so she did what she wanted.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going? Get your black ass back over there and give me that report.”
The man even had the nerve to grab her by the arm. It took everything in PJ to keep from punching the man in his Adam’s apple. She scowled at him, looked into his dead eyes and asked him, “Do you want to die?”
Brewster quickly dropped his hand from her arm that immediately started itching once the air hit it. Great, now she was going to have a rash from his dirty hands. Gross.
“Where are you going, Harlowe?”
“Me and my black ass are leaving. We both quit. I would tell you to kiss it, but I’m pretty sure I’d catch something. Have a nice life, Tiny Tim.”
As she passed by Pam, she gestured to her that she would call her later. She made nonverbal communication because Mr. Brewster was a petty bastard who would fire Pam for being friendly with PJ instead of reassigning her to another executive in the department. She just hoped Pam didn’t have to work for Nate.
