Chapter Four
Dessi
The conversation with Burnzilla trailed me for the rest of the day.
I fumed as I ate my lunch, stabbing at my spiced broccoli salad as though it was her unreasonable face.
She seemed to sense my anger because she didn’t request my help for the next few hours after threatening to fire me for consoling a coworker.
I stared at the screen in front of me, barely registering the emails that came in, or the administrative tasks that had piled up.
My fingers cupped the mouse, but they didn’t move.
A part of my brain—the part that still seethed—was stuck in that tense glass office with Burnzilla’s voice digging into me.
I forced a breath out of my lungs and caught my reflection in a small mirror at the edge of my desk. The creases on my forehead were entirely unacceptable. How was I supposed to keep myself from aging too quickly if my boss forced these deep craters into my skin?
A shadow fell over my desk at five in the evening. I glanced up to find Angie standing near my cubicle, wringing her hands.
“What’s wrong?” I asked quickly.
Angie hesitated, her eyes darting towards the closed double doors where Burnzilla was meeting with a contractor.
She leaned in slowly, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Could I ask you for a favor?”
A sinking feeling settled in my belly.
“Of course,” I said, even though I didn’t feel quite as certain. “Go on.”
She sighed, running her fingers through her frizzy bob.
“I think I’m going to make a break for it,” she said. “Bonnie’s recital is in fifteen minutes. She’s the second act on stage, and I could be there and back in under an hour.”
Her voice grew tighter as she spoke. “Could you cover for me?”
I hadn’t realized I’d been holding my breath until it slipped free in a deep exhale.
Fuck. Talk about bad timing.
“Um,” I began, the dressing down from this morning stopping me from nodding as I usually would.
“You know how she is,” Angie continued. “She said it would set a bad precedent if she let me go to my kid’s recital on the eve of the solstice.”
I glanced at the calendar on Burnzilla’s holo link. She would be in this meeting for the next hour. Technically, Angie was safe for now, but the fear that had thrummed inside me since this morning refused to let me agree so quickly.
“Please,” Angie said, and I realized she already had her bag and coat in hand. “Just an hour, Dessi.”
I’m such a sucker, I thought as I nodded.
“Say hi to Bonnie,” I whispered as she walked away quickly. She’d even changed into a pair of sneakers so she could move without her heels clicking on the floor.
My gaze drifted to the clock.
5:05PM
If Angie wasn’t back before six… Well, there was nothing much I could do now.
*
When the intercom went off twenty minutes later, I jumped in my seat before hitting answer.
“Yes?”
“I need the finance manager in my office right now.”
The order was short, curt.
My heart fell to my toes.
“Uh, yes, uh, right away.”
Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Angie couldn’t have gone far. I reached for my phone and dialed her number.
Straight to voicemail.
Abandoning the headset, I rushed down the stairs to the parking lot, hoping beyond hope that Angie’s car might still be there. That was nothing but a waste of time.
When I returned to my desk, I could feel Burnzilla’s eyes on me, jabbing my skin like needles as she watched from her glass office.
With a steadying breath, I stepped into the meeting, trying to keep my knees from knocking together.
“Ms. Adani will be back in a few minutes,” I said, clearing my throat. “I’ll send her right in.”
Her gaze tracked my every breath.
“Of course,” she said.
Something in her tone made me quiver. This wasn’t over. I knew it in my heart.
Thirty minutes later, when the contractors left the meeting, the intercom buzzed. I didn’t bother to ask what she wanted. This was it. Angie hadn’t returned. It was five minutes to six. And I was dead fucking meat.
“Ms. Burns,” I said, letting the office door slide shut behind me.
She didn’t mince words. “Where is Ms. Adani?”
“I—” I tried to swallow past the boulder in my throat.
“It’s a rather simple question. Where is the employee I hired as my finance manager?”
I glanced down at my fingers—anything to escape her scrutiny.
“She stepped away from her desk for a moment…”
“It’s been more than thirty minutes.”
“I know. I—”
Fuck, I couldn’t possibly rat on Angie, could I?
“Let me guess.” Ms. Burns leaned back in her chair, the quintessential image of poise as she gathered her shirtsleeves further up her elbows. “Ms. Adani is attending her daughter’s recital when I explicitly said she couldn’t have the time off.”
“It’s only an hour. She should be back any minute now.”
“She didn’t have the authorization to leave in the first place. I wonder who gave her the idea that she could shirk her duties?”
I said nothing, glancing at my heels instead.
“Does Ms. Adani understand that she’ll be out of a job if she wastes company time? Who’s going to feed her little spawn?"
“It’s not her fault,” I said quickly. “Don’t fire Angie.”
A single golden brow rose. “So whose fault is it?”
I bit down on my bottom lip.
“I don’t have time for silence, Ms. Nayak.”
She used my name like a whip, and it was everything I could do not to flinch like I’d been struck by one.
“It’s mine,” I blurted. “I told Angie I’d cover for her.”
“You do not have the authority to—”
“I promise it wasn’t to undermine you, Ms. Burns, but Angie has been working so hard. She stayed in the office overnight just so she could make time for her daughter’s recital and it was only going to be an hour—”
“Do not interrupt me.”
Her clipped words stopped my blubbering tirade.
I glanced down at my hands, noting the little crescent-shaped marks my nails had left on my skin.
“You do not have the authority to ‘cover’ for people.” She leaned back in her seat and steepled her fingers on her lap. “The very idea makes little sense. You do not have Ms. Adani’s expertise.”
I bit my lip.
“You are an administrator by profession. What would you know about the company’s financials?”
“It was only going to be an hour—”
“Unacceptable.” Her cheeks creased with annoyance. “You are not an Aunt Agony for these people. You are my assistant; you’re meant to serve me.”
“I am your assistant,” I agreed quickly. My tongue tasted like sandpaper. “But I’m also a human being. When someone comes to me for help—”
“You say no.” She finished the sentence on my behalf. “Because your time and energy is mine.”
I stared at her, blinking once, twice. The hum of the machines from the factory floor reverberated between us. God, a dull ache was starting to form behind my eyes.
Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry…
She leaned forward, her voice dipping to that barely-audible hiss that made my stomach quiver.
“You’re setting a dangerous precedent here. If you let one person go, what’s stopping the rest of them from asking you to ‘cover’ for them, too? You think you’re doing the right thing, but you’re just enabling them.”
I chose not to say anything, not because I agreed with her, but because she would never listen to anything I had to say in my defence. She’d already stacked her cards against me, and all I needed to do now was watch it fall.
It was inevitable.
“Ms. Nayak.” All emotion was gone from her gaze.
She stood, towering over me as she circled her desk.
“This is strike three.”
Breath stuttered to a halt in my chest.
“I expected so much more from you, especially after you were warned this morning.”
“I—” I swallowed, forcing away the tears. “I’m sorry, Ms. Burns.”
Her slate green eyes were punishing as she stared down at me.
“Such a pity,” she said, the words deliberately cruel.
“You seemed to have such potential. You’re mistaken about one thing, Ms. Nayak.
You’re not being helpful to these employees—not in the least. You’re just irritatingly nosy.
Someone who thrives when they’re nose-deep in someone else’s business. A busybody.”
The last word hit me like a slap. I ground my heels into the carpet beneath us, because the other option would be to throw my notebook at her head. Or, better yet, hurl the paperweight that sat on her desk.
My jaw tightened sharply, triggering a telling pounding in my head. My heartbeat thickened in my ears, drowning out the hum of the factory and the edge of Burnzilla’s voice.
Why did she act like the world would end if someone wasn’t chained to their desk every second of the day? Like the Distillery would crumble to dust if Angie took one measly hour of personal time?
Or maybe Burnzilla just needed to remind me who was in charge. Again.
I had taken a lot from this woman. For three whole years, I had smiled through her shitty moods and insults. More than once, I had swallowed my pride and did exactly what she told me to do.
But this? Mocking me? When all I’d wanted to do was look out for a fellow employee?
Enough was enough.
I’d given three years of my life to her. I deserved more than to sit at my shitty desk, waiting at the edge of my seat just to suffer her constant shitty moods.
“You know what, Ms. Burns?” I bit out between clenched teeth. “You can’t fire me… I quit.”
“Perfect,” she said, not an inkling of emotion on her face. “Less paperwork.”
“Fine.”
I met her gaze head-on, knowing I had absolutely nothing to apologize for. The indignance spluttered in my throat, but I knew—I knew—she would not hear a single thing I said.
My heel caught on the edge of the carpet as I turned away hastily, but I righted myself before I could fall headfirst and embarrass myself further.
Dreaded tears filled my eyes as I grabbed several things from my desk without looking and stuffed them into my already full bag.
Was this truly the end? Three years of hard work gone in an instant?
Apparently so.