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Unlike the days before, I don’t care whether Melissa waits to come inside or not. Even if I told her to stay behind, wait a moment, I don’t think she’d be in the mood to listen to me today. Though I’m a little frustrated with the way she doesn’t seem to be as “supportive” of what I’m trying to do, I don’t blame her. This is probably not what she was expecting to have to go through with me, so soon after having troubles with her own ex-boyfriend.
But it can’t be helped, I tell myself. She knew I was going after Vanacore before we started dating. So, she can’t really have an issue now. And if she does, that’s all on her. But I’ll try to make it up to her at the end of the day. Maybe I’ll take her to a bar or a restaurant. Something to make up for all the shit I’ve been putting her through.
As I move closer to the main doors, I shout back to her, “I’ll make it up to you tonight when I get done with HR.” After that, I fall silent, step inside, and prepare myself for the last day I will be collecting evidence against Vanacore.
By the time I make it into the main office, into the elevator, and up to mine and Vanacore’s personal offices on the legal floor, my morning has already soured. In addition to having to deal with Melissa being understandably frustrated with me, on the way up to my office, I ran into some old colleagues from the legal’ aids floor, who made it a point to piss and shit verbally all over me — over my nice clothes, saying that I’m a dressed too fancifully for a grease ball.
While I don’t allow myself to go at it with them, physically or verbally, for their comments to me, their comments still get to me all the same. They still make me angry and out of sorts. Not the best place to be, when I need to be levelheaded, and aware of doing my last little bit of work before taking Vanacore down.
But if I thought that my day couldn’t get any worse, it gets worse, the minute I walk into the office I share with Vanacore. Unlike the other days prior, she’s already in the office. She’s already sitting at her desk. And worst of all, she has a look on her face I don’t like seeing: it’s cold, calculating, and betrayed.
I freeze, shutting the door with my backward movement into it. “Ms. Vanacore?” The only answer I get is her standing up from her desk. She does so with the same look she has in her eyes: cold and calculating. As she walks right up to me, I press myself into the door, suddenly feeling vulnerable. Not as strong and badass as I had been feeling earlier in the week about my ability to control her and this situation.
“I saw you with her,” she whispers venomously. She doesn’t give me a chance to deny it, to tell her something different. She walks closer to me and leans down to my ear. “I’ve seen you with her this entire week, Tommy.” She may be whispering, but she sounds wrathful — ready to go off on me. Just as I start to tremble against the door, Vanacore leans away, giving me a bit of a literal breathing room. Even so, her eyes don’t leave me. They continue to skewer me to the spot. “You and she are involved seriously, intimately, aren’t you?”
Something in my eyes must tell her I’m about to deny it, but because before I can even say a single word, utter a single syllable, she’s back down my throat. “Don’t say you’re not. I’ve seen the way you are with her. You and she are dating.” She comes back into my personal space again. “Are you two fucking?”
I don’t answer. In part because it’s none of her fucking business, and in part, because I’m terrified of her.
“You are,” she murmurs. She grabs me by the front of my suit and the tail of my tie. “And I guess these are from her, aren’t they?”
Again, I don’t answer. I just regret my bad luck. My inability to get away from the situation, or to set up in a way for me to record what’s going on now.
“Why are you messing with her, Tommy?” She pulls me away from the wall and toward her desk. As she does, I don’t have a choice but to follow. “If you’re going to mess around with anyone, it should be me!” She whirls around, looking at me. “I have way more experience than that secretary! I have way more skill than she!”
I don’t speak to any of this, because I know it won’t matter.
