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She practically ripped the cable that connected her laptop to the projector out of its socket, but fortunately she had barely enough control over her shaking hands to not.
What she wanted to do was drag Pete out of the room by his ear and demand to know what the fuck had happened and then make him fucking fix it. She’d be more pleasant about it, but he was getting a tongue lashing once they were in private, and not the fun kind.
Before she could grab him though, Pete had sidled up to Harvey Stinson and was shaking his hand.
“Pete, so good to see you. I think the last time was before you’d finished up your degree at Wharton. How’s your mother? She and Loretta always got on so well.”
“So sorry to interrupt, gentlemen,” she said, plastering a smile she absolutely didn’t feel onto her face.
“Seems like you’re apologizing a lot tonight, Tammy,” Pete remarked.
She wondered briefly if shoving whisky rocks into his eye sockets would kill him, or simply blind him. Either seemed like a good option at this point.
“That’s what human beings do when they make mistakes or interrupt,” she said pointedly. But she should’ve known by now that Pete had no shame. She wanted to take the silver spoon he’d been born with from his mouth and shove it up his butt. “At any rate, I thought you could help me put these numbers right.”
Pete shook his head and sighed like she was being unreasonable when in fact this was his fucking fault and he should be crawling on his knees, begging for her forgiveness and thanking her for not having called him on the carpet just now. But Pete wasn’t like that.
He leaned over and in a stage whisper, said to Harv, “This is what you get when you hire someone who went to community college.”
Rage and humiliation swirled in her stomach, creating a noxious substance that might let her breathe fire. Either that, or cause her head to explode. If she managed to take out some of these WASPy motherfuckers with sharp fragments of her skull, she’d say it had been worth it.
Yes, she’d gone to community college for two years, and then transferred to her state school and hauled her ass back and forth between Columbus and Penshaw every damn weekday for two years to finish her degree. She wasn’t ashamed of her education. She’d graduated with an impeccable transcript, not a ton of debt, and glowing recs from her professors. She was damn good at her job and clearly going to someplace like Wharton didn’t teach a person any manners or ethics.
But she was playing the long game here and no matter how toxic Pete was, she wasn’t going to sabotage her career over him. Because that’s what would happen. He’d somehow manage to come out of this smelling like roses and she’d end up in the dumpster because life wasn’t fair.
“Harv, let me get your thoughts on this boat my yacht broker’s trying to talk me into while Tammy takes care of this…”
If there was one of those thought bubbles above her head, it would be a picture of her sipping a good bourbon on top of a huge pile of Ivy League carnage. As things were, she didn’t have any more time to waste on Pete and his gnat-brained fuckery.
She gritted her teeth, gathered the shreds of her pride and stalked out of the room and down the hall to her office to fix a mess not of her own making.
