3. Celine
Celine
Of all days for me to be late, it has to be on the day that we have one of the biggest meetings with a successful up and coming author. I swear, I am no longer drinking on weekdays. It never ends well for me.
This morning, I missed my alarm by fifteen minutes, and my commute to the office takes about thirty minutes. I threw my untamed waves into a messy bun, trying to make it look chic, and put on minimal makeup since I didn’t have time to spend on it.
Story of my life.
I wore a long, flowy black skirt paired with a tight, long-sleeved black shirt. I usually wear a ring on each finger, but since I was in such a rush, I didn’t get to put any on.
I was out of my apartment within five minutes and hit very little traffic on my way downtown, but I still ended up being late.
Five minutes, to be exact.
To some companies, five minutes isn’t much. They wouldn’t care if one of their employees was a little bit late because life happens. At Stanley Publishing? They will freak out if you are even a minute late.
Once I swipe my badge to unlock the final door to the office, I rush to my desk and toss my purse and phone on it.
My purse tumbles over, the contents spilling out all over my desk.
An irritated sigh leaves me because, of course, that just happened, but it will be a problem I will have to deal with after the meeting.
I pick up my laptop, tucking it against my chest, and turn around to head to the boardroom.
Everyone is already seated at the wooden table, and Monica is in her position at the head of it.
The stare she gives me as I sit in my seat beside her is a lethal one.
I could literally feel the fire inside her spewing out at me.
“I’m so sorry,” I apologize to the author and her team, “traffic.”
“Life happens!” Catherine, the author, responds sweetly. “You can’t control traffic.”
Yeah, tell my boss that.
“Now that Celine is here, let’s get started,” Monica says with a kind voice.
Well, somewhat kind. She is never rude to the authors, only to her staff.
“As we know, your first book has already been signed with Stanley, but we have it written down that you were ready to sign the full five-book deal with us.”
“Yes, but—” Catherine begins to say, but goes quiet when Monica starts talking again.
“We heard that the first book is looking at a movie deal, which is amazing—” She really means how amazing it would be for herself, but she catches what she is about to say and adds, “for you.”
“Thank you,” Catherine responds with a tight smile. I can tell from her demeanor that this meeting is not going the way Monica wants.
“With a five-book deal, we will need you to sign some contracts. Celine.” That was her way of telling me to lay out the contracts.
I stare down at my laptop sitting in front of me, and my eyes slowly fall to my lap. “The contracts are sitting on my desk. I can go grab them.”
Monica glares at me, and as I’m about to stand to get the papers, Catherine stops me. “No, Celine, it’s okay. We aren’t here to sign any contracts.”
My brows dip in confusion, and Monica snaps her attention back to Catherine and her team.
“What do you mean you aren’t here to sign contracts? There will be no deal if no contracts are signed.” Monica reminds her.
“I understand that,” Catherine says, looking to her agent.
“We have decided to take another route with Miss Harper’s books.” The agent informs us.
I sink back into my seat, wishing I were a turtle so I could hide in a shell as Monica’s mouth falls into a flat line. Her jaw is tense while she tries to make sense of what is going on.
On the inside, Monica is panicking and wanting to blow up, but for the sake of a client being in the boardroom, she remains calm on the outside.
“I see,” she finally says after the awkward silence has floated around the room. “And may I ask why?”
Catherine’s agent then explains that another publisher, one that Stanley Publishing competes with, has shown interest in Catherine’s books and has extended an offer they couldn’t refuse. We sit in another silence. I begin chewing the inside of my cheek as the tension builds.
This news is huge… in a bad way. Catherine’s books were supposed to be our top deal of the year, and now it is being pulled out from under the company’s rug.
My eyes leave Monica’s infuriated stare to Catherine and her team. The author gives me an apologetic smile, and I return it because I am afraid Monica is going to lose it on them.
“Did they offer you more money?” Monica asks, which is very unprofessional.
The agent clears his throat. “That is something we are not able to discuss.”
Monica nods curtly. “I see. Well, if your mind is made up, then there is no reason to continue this meeting.”
She stands and leaves the room without saying goodbye. The door slams behind her, making me flinch.
“I’m so sorry for—” Her. That’s what I want to say, but I keep it professional. “I wish you all the best in your future, Catherine.”
“Thank you, Celine.”
I close my laptop and scoop it up to leave the boardroom.
Walking through the office, I see everyone sitting at their desks, giving me worried eyes.
I shake my head as a way to tell them not to ask or say anything, and swallow hard as I go straight to Monica’s office, trying to mentally prepare myself for the wrath she is about to release on me.
I don’t want to be in her office right now, but I know that if I were to go sit at my desk, she would yell out my name to get me to come to her office.
Biting the bullet, I step in, closing the glass door behind me. A second doesn’t even pass before she is screaming.
“That was our biggest deal of the year!” Her arms fly into the air, her face turning red from the anger.
“I know,” I mutter, sensing the eyes of my coworkers on us.
“This is all your fault.” She points a finger at me, her eyes narrowing like she wants to kill me.
“Excuse me?” She’s kidding, right?
“You were late. You didn’t have the contracts.” She is finding whatever excuse she can to lay the blame on someone other than herself.
“Monica, none of those were the reasons they decided to go with Ortega Publishing.”
“I’ve had enough of this, Celine. Your backtalk, the tardiness.” During my entire time working here, I have been late only once. And that was today. “This isn’t working.”
“What are you saying?” I know exactly what she is saying, but I need to hear the words out loud.
“You’re fired. Get your things and get out of my face. And don’t think you will get another job in this field. I have connections, and I’m not afraid to use them. I’ll tell them how useless you’ve been to me for the past three years.”
Her awful words hit me like a train, and I feel tears forming in my eyes, but I won’t cry in front of her. She doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of seeing me crumble.
This was a long time coming, given that she kept pushing me to quit. She never once said those words, but they were always evident in her actions. I’m only surprised that she actually fired me, and that I didn’t lose my cool and quit.
Without another word, because there is no point in fighting to keep my job, I leave her office. Feeling the eyes of every coworker on me. I feel the sympathy radiating off of them, but I keep my chin held high as I walk to my desk.
Rummaging around in the supply closet, I find an empty box to pack my things. There isn’t much on my desk; a picture of Vince, Amelia, and me, a few of my favorite books we have published, and two plants that I managed to keep alive in the office.
After gently tossing my belongings into the box, I clean up the mess from my purse, slide my laptop into its case, and make my way toward the elevators.
Even as I walk to the elevators, my coworkers still observe me.
No one says a thing because what would they say?
I’m just glad no one is approaching me because then I would start to cry.
I don’t want to do that here. I’ll wait until I’m home alone and have a bottle of wine.
The elevator takes me down to the lobby, where I see Catherine and her team talking.
She looks over at me, offering a kind smile, but then it drops as she sees me carrying a box. Politely dismissing herself from the conversation with her team, she makes her way over to me. “She fired you?”
“Yup,” I say.
“It wasn’t because of the meeting, was it?” Worry that she was the reason for my being fired crosses her face.
“No,” I reassure her. “Monica never liked me anyway. I wasn’t surprised this happened.”
“I’m so sorry, Celine. I don’t know what she didn’t like about you.
If I’m being honest, you were the only reason we stayed with Stanley for so long.
You’ve been incredibly kind since day one and consistently demonstrated a great work ethic.
It’s a shame that you won’t be able to show off your talents here anymore. ”
“Or anywhere else.” The words are quiet when they leave my mouth. Catherine tilts her head in question. “She threatened that I wouldn’t be able to work for any publishers.”
“That’s bullshit!” She says furiously and loud enough that the people surrounding us turn their heads in our direction. “You know what? She doesn’t get to do that. We are about to have a meeting with Ortega, and I can put in a good word for you.”
“Oh, no.” I dismiss her offer. “You do not have to do that.”
“Yes, I do. Think of it as a thank you for all the help you have given me. Without you pushing my first book on Monica’s desk, I wouldn’t be in the position I am now.”
Her words make me feel a bit better, and pride fills my chest because she is right. Monica didn’t want to give Catherine the chance because Monica didn’t believe in her. Catherine originally self-published, which Monica frowned upon.
Stanley Publishing never took on indie authors; only those who inquired about our publishing company as a first choice.
I always thought it was bullshit that she didn’t care for indie authors, but I never brought it up.
It would have been a fight, and I was already having a hard time keeping my head above water with Monica.
“Give me your number.” Catherine pulls her phone from her purse. “I can text you after our meeting.”
I rattle off my number and watch as she types it into her contacts. “Thank you, Catherine. I really appreciate it.”
“Of course! Us girls need to stick together.” She flashes me a wink, and then her agent calls her name. “I’ve gotta go, but I’ll be in touch!”
I say goodbye and watch her leave before I find my way to the parking garage. I set the box in the backseat, shut the door and then climb into the drivers seat.
Letting out a long breath, the realization hits me that I’ll have to tell my parents I got fired—just another thing for them to be disappointed over.
I’ll hold off on telling them because maybe once I let them know I’m no longer going to church, I might not see them anymore, and then they wouldn’t have to know I lost my job.
As I sit there, staring ahead at the car parked in front of me, my eyes grow tired as the exhaustion sets in. It’s only nine-thirty in the morning, and I never got to have my coffee, seeing as I was in such a rush.
Putting my car in drive, I leave the parking garage for the last time and head to the nearest coffee shop, Brew Haven, which happens to be my favorite and is locally owned by the sweetest couple.
It has always been my favorite place to get coffee because not only is the coffee delicious, but they also donate half of their earnings to the animal shelter a few blocks away.
When I enter the shop, I step into the line of people waiting to place their orders. As I wait for my turn, I send off a text to the group chat.
Me
Finally got fired today. Who wants to drown my sorrows with me?
Their response is almost immediate.
Vince
That bitch! Want me to come up there and fight her for you?
Amelia
Ugh, I’m so sorry, Celine! If you want, I can sneak into her house and give her a forehead tattoo that says ‘cunt’ in all caps.
I giggle to myself at their responses.
Me
As much as I would love that, both of those are crimes, and my heart couldn’t take it if both of you got sent to jail.
I’m getting coffee now, and then I’m going to head home. Bring the biggest bottle of wine you can find!
They both tell me they will text when they are done with work. I place my phone back in my purse and step forward as the next person in line approaches. The menu hanging behind the counter is written in chalk, so I have to squint to read it and figure out what I want.
“Celine?” A male voice grabs my attention, and when I turn around, I’m shocked at who I see.
“Father Alexander?”