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He was a completely useless figurehead who did absolutely no work. All doubts over whether or not I would apply for the position went out the window. Pride was tricky that way. “Or I could end up yours. See you Monday.”
I literally had to walk around him to get through the door. It was annoying how he remained standing in the way. As though he enjoyed trying to intimidate me by not moving.
At least I had the satisfaction of the surprise registering on his face with my words. Obviously, he’d assumed I wouldn’t apply, which pissed me off even further.
On my way out, I caught the eye of my accounting manager, Megan.
She and her very pregnant belly got up from inside her cubicle, and she fell into step with me. “I’ll walk you out.”
As soon as we were in the elevator alone heading down, I muttered, “Asshole.”
Megan laughed. “You can say that again. Fucker doesn’t do a damn thing.”
I smiled at her description. Megan was a curvy redhead who was all of five foot nothing and had a foul mouth that would cause a sailor to blush. She was also seven months pregnant with her first child. Since she and her husband had been trying for years with a history of miscarriage, I knew how much apprehension she felt regarding this baby and how anxious she was to deliver.
She sighed. “Sorry, I forgot the rule. F words are for behind closed doors only. Although, technically, the elevator is private, so in that case I can say he’s a fucking fucker.”
I chuckled, loving her spunk. She also happened to be the most capable manager ever, dealing with customer service, working hard, and always maintaining a positive attitude.
“He’s something, all right.” Megan was the only person at work to whom I would ever confide my true feelings as I didn’t want to act unprofessional around my staff in talking about my peer. Not that anyone in the department liked him.
“Please tell me you’re planning to apply for the CFO job.”
“I haven’t yet.”
Although I would most likely apply and the position was a logical career move, truth be told, I wasn’t sure I actually wanted the next rung on the ladder. I already worked enough hours that I had to fight to maintain my work/life balance. I was aware I wasn’t married and didn’t have kids, but that didn’t mean I enjoyed spending every minute with my job, either. Someday, I hoped to have a family, and in that case, I wouldn’t want to compromise my time with them.
Megan expelled a long breath as the doors opened to the lobby. “At least submit your résumé. Otherwise, that dipshit may get the job. Then you’ll have to report to him.”
Ugh. The mere thought of Jeff as my boss made my skin crawl. “I’d probably have to quit.”
“You and me both, sister. He treats everyone horribly. Especially his own staff. And I heard he’s sleeping with the new girl in HR. She’s, like, twelve.”
I frowned, not believing in workplace romance or understanding it, for that matter. For me, work and romance could not have been at further ends of the spectrum. “That would be illegal. She’s at least twenty, but yeah, she looks twelve.”
“Will you please consider the job? You’re definitely more qualified, and everybody is really hoping.”
No pressure. I blew out a breath as she walked me over the footbridge to my car in the garage next door. “The CFO travels. And not just local where I can drive.”
“Oh.” She frowned, well aware how I felt about flying.
“Yeah. Oh.”
Her expression was sympathetic. “Maybe you can simply explain to George. Don’t you see him sometimes in your town?”
The owner of the company lived a few miles away—albeit in a gated community—so I sometimes ran into him and his wife at the grocery store or bank. But I doubted he could be flexible on my inability to fly. He might be a nice man, but he had to be practical.
“I don’t think this is a conversation for the grocery store, but perhaps he’d consider it if I bring it up while he’s here on Monday. Have a great weekend.”
“You, too.” She gave me a quick hug before looking at her watch.
“You’d better hurry. You’re late.”
When wasn’t I?
* * *
Luckily, traffic cooperated, something unusual during a Friday night commute home. After stopping at my house to change into comfortable clothes, grab my overnight bag and my dog, I then raced to the grocery store. Since my three nieces loved to cook with their Aunt Peyton, I didn’t dare show up without baking ingredients. My hope was we’d all have a ball, and by the time we’d made the kitchen a disaster, the girls would be exhausted enough to fall into bed without protest. After that, I’d pour a glass of wine and clean up the mess.
