Page 20 of The Vegas Rerun
Her lips press into a tight, thin line.
"I think you’re lucky," she says, her voice sharp, her words clipped. "Very lucky."
Something about the way she says it makes my stomach twist. I know that tone. That quiet resentment simmering beneath the surface. And her choice of the word lucky implies that she thinks I’m not qualified for the position, that it’s luck that got me the job not my performance here so far.
"I didn’t even know the position was open until today," I say, trying to smooth things over. "Linda just called me in and …"
"Yeah, I bet she did." Sarah says, cutting me off mid-sentence. Her voice is dripping with something I can't quite name, but it sends a ripple of unease through me. "Well, congratulations. Enjoy the view from the top. And remember – the higher up you are, the further you have to fall."
“Sarah, that’s enough,” Frieda scolds her.
Sarah just rolls her eyes, and then, without another word, she gets up from her desk and storms off towards the break room,her high heels clicking loudly against the tiled floor. The silence she leaves behind is suffocating.
"Yikes. Did she seriously just do that?" Patty mutters, looking between me and the door Sarah just stormed through.
"I’m not surprised. Not really. You know she doesn’t deal well with not getting her own way. And she wanted that job. Badly," Frieda says. “She probably thought it was as good as hers. She knew I didn’t want it and she’s been here longer than everyone except me so I can sort of see why she assumed that, but it doesn’t always go on length of service, it goes on whether or not someone is a good fit for the role.”
"I didn't know any of this," I say, shaking my head, and feeling a twinge of guilt. "I mean, I wasn’t trying to get the job or anything. Hell, I didn’t even know there was a job opening until now. It just …"
"Fell into your lap?" Patty finishes for me.
"Yeah. Pretty much," I agree.
"Well, it didn’t fall into Sarah’s, and she’s pissed off," Patty sighs, clicking and unclicking her pen nib in and out. "Just ... be careful, okay?"
"Careful?" I echo, surprised at her choice of words.
"Sarah isn’t the type to take losing lightly." Patty tells me, her voice low, almost conspiratorial. "She’s ambitious. And when she wants something, she finds a way to get it. No matter who stands in her way."
The words settle over me like a dark cloud. No matter who stands in her way. Well, that’s just great because now I’m the one standing in her way.
The next few days are ... intense to say the least. Margo is leaving in a week’s time, where usually she would need to give a month’s notice, but her mom is sick and lives in Canada and she needs to go to her as soon as possible. I get all the training that should take a month thrown at me in a week. But I love it. I relishthe fast pace and the challenge of keeping up. Being secretary to the CEO is very different to being a general secretary. Even though many of the tasks are the same, the pressure is higher, the standards are higher, and everything has to be done faster.
During this time, Sarah doesn’t speak to me. At all. It’s not like we were ever best friends, but we always got along well enough. Now? She acts like I don’t even exist. If I enter a room, she leaves. If we have to work on something together, she keeps it strictly professional, her words clipped and cold.
It shouldn’t bother me. But it does. I don’t want enemies. Especially not ones I have to see every day. By the end of the week, she seems to have thawed a little bit, and I tell myself I’m being paranoid. That Sarah was upset but she’s over it now. That Patty’s warning was just office gossip. But then Margo leaves and I’m on my own and little things start happening.
My reports go missing from my desk or from the printer tray. A meeting I was supposed to be in gets accidentally rescheduled without my knowledge, leaving me sitting in the conference room for twenty minutes until Joshua came to look for me. Explaining that one didn’t go down well at all.
And it didn’t end there either. An email I sent to the wrong department mysteriously got forwarded to the entire admin team with my mistake highlighted. None of the things that are going wrong are big enough to get me in any real trouble, but they are to make me look a bit stupid and that’s enough to make me feel uneasy.
And then comes the final straw. I’ve been doing the job alone for two weeks now and I feel like I’m doing pretty well. I’ve managed to get into the swing of it and I’ve rarely seen Joshua which makes me think I can do this long term. And then Monday morning, I arrive at my desk to find a post-it note stuck to my monitor. I can read the message without removing the note fromthe screen which means other people can see it too. The message is short and to the point:
"You don’t belong here."
The words are scrawled in sharp, deliberate handwriting. There is no signature – of course there isn’t because whoever left the note wants to send a message without having to say it to my face. There is no indication of who left the note. But I know who it was.
I glance around. No one is watching me, but I swear I can feel eyes on me. My hands tighten into fists as I rip the note off my screen and crumple it up in my palm.
Enough is enough. I will not be bullied by this woman.
I push myself back from my desk and I stride toward the break room, where I know Sarah will be making herself a drink before she starts work like she does every morning.
Sure enough, she’s there, leaning against the counter, scrolling through her cell phone as she waits for the coffee to brew. She doesn’t look up as I enter, but her fingers pause over the screen.
"Sarah," I say, my voice steady, but firm.
She takes her time looking up.
