Page 89 of Mr. Big Shot

Scarlett

I’ve put the Kendra issue almost completely to bed. She sucks and she always will suck. I know it in my heart of hearts, and yet I can’t seem to stop holding out hope that she’ll wake up one day having undergone a full-on personality transplant overnight. It’s why I still put in the effort to be cordial even though I know it’s futile.

Every morning, I walk into our office with the understanding that I can project all the sunshine and rainbows I want but that doesn’t mean it’ll change anything. I’ve come to terms with this purgatory I’ve found myself in with her, which is why I’m beyond shocked when I enter our shared office after my meeting with Hudson to find her standing behind her desk, loading up a cardboard box with her personal belongings.

She’s not dressed in work attire. She’s in a t-shirt and sweatpants. When she sees me, she just nods in greeting. But then she tacks on a mild, “Well you win.”

I drop my work bag on my desk. “I win what?”

Has this been a game the whole time? If so, it’s been the most awful one I’ve ever played.

“I’m leaving.”

“What?”

“Yeah, I hate working here. I thought it would get better. I’ve tried, but it’s just not worth it. Not for all the money in the world.”

I didn’t realize she was struggling. I mean now that she mentions it, I can think back on a few instances where it seemed like Bethany or Sophie was frustrated with her about something, but I never thought it had anything to do with Kendra herself, more so just the intense workload in general.

“Where are you going?”

I figure she’ll name another big law firm, maybe Pierce Hughes in New York City or LMD in Boston.

Instead, she says, “Bali.”

Her answer is so out of left field, and I try to place the word within the confines of law. Is Bali a firm in LA or…

“Bali?!” I erupt, finally understanding.

She’s unfazed by my wide-eyed reaction. “Yeah. I’ve always wanted to live there, and it’s kind of now or never. I’m going to pursue my jewelry line.”

Jewelry line?

“Wow…that’s—”

She can tell I don’t know what to say. She shrugs. “Yeah, whatever. My parents are outraged, but I don’t care. And hey, at least you’ll get the whole office to yourself now.”

She seems lighter now that she knows the end is near, like her hate for me was intrinsically tied to her struggle with this job. That might well have been the case. Every time she was particularly grumpy or excessively rude, she might have just been struggling to stay on top of her work. The stress might have been eating away at her.

“I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

And the sentiment is genuine, oddly enough. I didn’t like Kendra, but I also didn’t put much effort into hating her. I thought we might have a reckoning of sorts one day, a final battle royale that would end in us either murdering or befriending each other.

Her just up and leaving, for Bali no less, was never on my bingo card.

“Eh, whatever.” She picks up a stapler, studies it for a second, then shoves it in the cardboard box. “What’s a crap ton of student debt compared to happiness, right?”

I chuckle.

She starts to empty her top drawer, picking up the pace with pens and paper clips—shoving it all in with little care or attention. “Anyway, since it doesn’t matter anymore anyway, here’s my two cents. Makayla and Ramona probably won’t last here much longer. Ramona’s trying to get knocked up by her boyfriend who’s some big finance guy. She’d much rather be a stay-at-home mom than schlep to work here every day. And Makayla can barely stay on top of her workload. The girl is dumb as a box of rocks. She told me she got called in for a performance review a few weeks ago and they essentially told her she was on the chopping block.”

“Wow.”

“Yeah. I doubt she lasts the month.”

I can barely keep up. First Kendra, now Makayla and Ramona too? I sort of thought everyone was settling in the way I was, loving the work as much as me. With everything I had going on, I forgot the warning Bethany gave us on our first day on the job. By this time next year, a quarter of you will be gone. In two years, only half of you will be left standing.

Turns out, she was right.

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