Page 34 of If the Suit Fits
“We weren’t drunk.” I roll my eyes. “I’d had one drink.One.” I hold up my finger. “You like to exaggerate stories.”
“Imadeyou go out,” she repeats. “We met her. We saved her from a handsy dude who thoughtnomeantgrab my ass. The rest is history. You’re welcome. And now,” she snatches up the remaining half of my bagel and shoves it in my mouth, the action so fast and violent, I choke on the pastry and heave for fresh air. Which only results in bread racing toward my lungs. “We have to go. Get up.” She comes around and grabs my arm, yanking me to my feet until my stool spins and topples, landing on the floor with a loud clatter. “That was more dramatic than I was planning,” she giggles. “But we’re moving now.” She drags me through my kitchen and snatches up my laptop bag and the tubes of drawings I already prepared and set by the door.
“Anna—”
“Still moving.” She yanks me across the threshold and kicks my door closed. “You’re lucky you already have shoes on because I was gonna make you leave even if you didn’t.”
“Anna!”
“This is gonna be a fun meeting.” She leads me down the stairsthat are no longer rickety, and through the gate that is no longer squeaky. “Get in the car. This is gonna be great! I feel it in my bones.”
“Lucky you.” I spit the bagel to the ground and snatch back my laptop bag. “I feel a formal dismissal in my bones. And a really negative reference letter, so I’ll never get a job anywhere else. I feeldreadin my bones!”
“You’re being dramatic.” She yeets my tubes into the backseat of my car and gestures toward the driver’s side with a blinding, obnoxious grin. “After you, Boss Lady.”
My hands shake, and my stomach rolls. Black dots dance in my vision, and that nasty, self-sabotaging voice sings a song in the back of my mind about failure and imposter syndrome. About how I shouldn’t be here and how, if it weren’t for Anna sitting on my left, I might throw myself out the twelfth story window of Manson, Mason, and Samson.
Luckily for me, Anna was at that bathroom meeting a couple of months ago, and seeing as how she’s technically, legally,in this state, anyway, a real-life lawyer, she gets to stay no matter how sour Mr. Manson’s expression is.
“You’ve done an acceptable job thus far,” he mutters, while outside the glass walls of our boardroom, Ms. Anderson takes a phone call that looks awfully serious.
“I know we discussed different windows,” he chastises, “and you completely ignored my instructions on the awning.”
But the builder, I think in my head.And the engineers…
“I want you to say nothing at all,” he huffs out impatiently, “unless specifically addressed, and even then, your job is to pass the baton to Carl and excuse yourself.”
Irritated, I glance across the eighteen-seat table at my colleague and sneer when he hasn’t even got the good manners topretendto be humble about how he stole my client. He wants to paint the city skyline usingmyclient,mydrawings, and claim it as his own.
Again.
Wanker.
“Alright,” Manson rushes out nervously, twisting in his seat. “Here she comes. You know what to do, Melanie.”
“You don’t actually have to do that, ya know?” Anna leans closer and whispers in my ear. “You can tell him to suck a d?—”
“Good morning, everybody.” Laura Anderson isn’t a hell of a lot older than me and Anna, but she sure knows how to command a room, striding through the glass door with a closed laptop in her left hand, a single, mostly flat, yellow envelope resting on top, and her cellphone in her right. She wears a sexy blue skirt suit, and heels that allow her an additional four or five inches of height. But hell, she has the legs for it and the hips to make her entire outfit shine.
And then I look down at mine and harrumph.
“I thank you for your time this morning. If we could cut to the chase?—”
“Melanie would like to tell you something, Ms. Anderson.” Like an eager puppy begging for a pat on the head, Manson practically bounces in his chair and draws Laura’s eagle eyes. But of course, he gestures my way. “Don’t you, Melanie?”
“Um—”
“Don’t do it,” Anna hisses. “This is yours.”
“Actually,” Laura cuts in with a vicious snap of her tongue, “I’d like to speak first. It’s come to our attention that Manson, Mason, and Samson have been embroiled in what can only be described as school-yard drama and office politics that no longer align with the vision of my employer.” She flashes a challenging smile and stares at Manson. But his accusing eyes swing to me.My drama, my politics. “Deceit,” she continues, “bullying, theft, and more.”
“Melanie was coming to tell you she’d stepped down from her position within the firm,” he chokes out desperately. Like his ass is on fire, he bounds from his chair and tosses me to the wolves. “We’re aware of the incidences you refer to, Ms. Anderson, and it’s because of those that Ms. Hamilton has agreed, for the good of the firm and the reputation we maintain, to step down and pass your project to one of her associates.” He gestures toward Carl. “Mr. Donnerson comes with my full support, my recommendation, and my confidence he’ll deliver exactly what you’re looking for.”
“You misunderstand me.” Laura cuts Carl’s smile in half when her eyes flash with anger. “We’re not displeased with Ms. Hamilton’s work, Mr. Manson. Rather, we’re intolerant of yours. We’re retracting our business effective immediately. You’ll find our contracts allow for a lateral move for any reason we deem acceptable. As far as you’re concerned, you’re no longer required in this boardroom.”
“But I…” Stunned, he looks around, searching for sense. “But… This is my boardroom.”
“Ms. Hamilton?” Laura sets her yellow envelope on the table and slides it across until it stops by my hand. “My employer has requested the services of Melanie Hamilton and Co. I believe you’ll find the paperwork upto standard.”
