Page 65 of Serial Killer Games

“Doug,” Cynthia says levelly, “it doesn’t appear that you are able to describe Dolores’s official role, despite being her supervisor, and it seems you were either unaware of a workplace relationship, or declined to alert HR about the need for a relationship disclosure, for whatever reason.”

Doug fidgets and sweats, but next to him Jake fires up a big fake psycho smile. Employee of the year.

“I want to go on record saying Doug is the best supervisor I’ve ever had, and I’ve worked a lot of office jobs.”

Doug glances gratefully at Jake, and Jake smiles supportively, and it seems to stoke a fire in Doug. He leans forward, hands on his knees, and starts in on a garbled speech inspired by Jake’s pep talk earlier. “I’ve been working here at SS for fifteen years. My underlings are like SS foot soldiers, and I’m like an SS general—”

Cynthia jumps in like a rabid dog. “It’s ‘S&S.’ You can’t say ‘SS.’ ”

“ ‘SS’ is quicker to say,” he says.

“Itisquicker to say.” Jake nods thoughtfully.

“You can’t say ‘SS.’ Don’t you know what ‘SS’ stands for?”

“Spencer and Sterns.”

Cynthia jabs her index finger into the surface of her desk. “You can’t say you’re an SS general!”

Something comes loose in Doug. “I take my job seriously. ‘Work will set you free.’ That’s my motto.”

Marie squeaks.

“Who have you said that to?” Cynthia hisses, and Doug startles, but Jake gives him a supportive nod. He’s still humming. Not “Flight of the Bumblebee”…“Flight of the Valkyries.” Foot bouncing gently, fingers tapping restlessly—and all at once I realize whose identity Jake has assumed:criminalcriminal lawyer, gentleman sex doll connoisseur, tragic romantic—Grant Velazquez, esquire.

“Are you—are you policing what I’m saying now?” Doug says. “Are you censoring my freedom of speech?”

Cynthia grips the edge of her desk. “This isn’t a question of freedom of speech. Every time you open your mouth, you have to be mindful of the power imbalance. You are amanager. You arewhite. You areolder. You aremale—”

“I didn’t ask to be born with a penis!” A fleck of spittle sticks to Doug’s lip. “You people are always like this. You’re jealous of someone else having a good thing.”

I don’t have time to suss out if Doug’s “good thing” is his position of power or his penis, because he’s on a roll. It’s one steaming hot shit falling out of his mouth after another.

“You know what you are? You’re a bunch of—a bunch of feminazis!”

Marie’s mouth is a perfect O, and a muscle twitches in Cynthia’s jaw. Jake’s wheedling humming is the only sound in the room for a moment. Not “Flight of the Valkyries” anymore. The tune Jake is humming now is childishly idiotic and painfully familiar. I’ve heard my daughter sing this song approximately eleventy million times.

The wheels on the bus go round and round…

I look at him, and he looks at me, and I suddenly understand what he’s been doing this whole time. He lifts his hands from the steering wheel, opens the door, rolls out. I’m at the wheel now, my daughter safely buckled in the back seat, and it’s time to throw him under. He nods encouragingly. He places his hand on my knee one more time, and this time I smack it off.

I turn to face Cynthia. “Do you see what I’ve been dealing with?” My voice is strident and powerful. “I’m not safe here. This company has failed to protect me from workplace harassment and bullying. He speaks Spanish at me and calls me Dolly and tells me to smile, and he—”

I glance at Jake.He saves my ass.

“—he plants decapitated Barbies in my office and pretends we’re in a romantic relationship. He’s been fixated on me from the start.”

Next to me Jake laughs. “Dolly. Seriously?” He turns to Marie. “This is what I get for cultivating good old Spencer & Sternspersistence, right?” He points to the mounted poster resting on the floor. “I’m going to turn her no into yes.”

Marie stares at her poster in horror.

This is an HR shitstorm for them to clean up. All scrutiny apportioned for me has been redirected at Doug and Jake. There will be nothing but placation and false support for me until they can be sure I’ve been safely talked down from escalating this and engaging a lawyer. Jake has bought me the time I need.

And because I’m an idiot riding my wave of relief, I keep going. “All I’ve done is try to keep my head down and do my work—”

And Cynthia, dog with a bone, impervious to shit raining from the sky, says, “And what exactly is that work?”

I snap my mouth shut.

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