Page 48 of Marked By Feral Monsters
Keeping my expression impassive and ignoring the urge to shrink back takes effort.
I know what they think of me, what they call me behind my back. If I were a man, they'd say I was a stern but fair boss. But I'm a woman (strike one), so I'm a bitch when I hand them back the work they didn't finish properly the first time around. I'm younger than Marty (strike two), and my grandfather started this company long before I took over the role of CEO (strike three).
This position wasn't a gift; I busted my ass to earn it. I live and breathe acquisitions. I've sacrificed everything for this job, but no matter what I do, everyone here still sees me as a bootlicking-nepo-baby.
"I did these already," Marty gripes, nudging the folders away, scrunching up his nose like he smells something bad.
"I know…" I hedge. "It's just, after the first page, the client's initials on all the addendums are missing. Twelve total. Here, Iclearly marked—" I flip through the document, pointing out the yellow sticky tabs I added in for him, "here, here, here, here…"
"Can't you just do it? Don't you see James tomorrow night at that fundraiser?"
James. He says his name like they're old pals. James and Marty are closer in age than I am, and I've caught Marty snickering behind my back whenever I have to deal with that entitled boomer whoaccidentallytaps my ass on his way out the door each time he leaves my office.
"Mr. McPherson will be there, yes, since he's hosting, but I doubt he wants to deal with paperwork given the event is ten-thousand dollars per head. Marty, can you please just do this? It's your mistake; you forgot the signatures. I'm just asking you to fix it." I glance down at my watch. "It's ten till two. You've got plenty of time to run over to his office now."
I know I've made a mistake when Marty smiles wide, all toothy and condescending. His mustache hangs over his top lip, and I resist the urge to grab the scissors off his desk and trim the overhang. I take a step back as he comes to a stand, grabbing the jacket hanging off his chair.
"Sure thing, boss. It'll probably take me a while, though, so I'll just go ahead and take off from there." Bullshit. James McPherson's office is twenty minutes away, tops. "Besides, my wife's got a special surprise for me tonight, and it'll be nice to not be stuck here ‘til sundown."
I know that's a lie because I'm always here after sundown, and Marty, along with everyone else in the office, is long gone by then.
He goes on, "Yep, gotta keep the ole' spark alive. You know how it is." I feel his pity dawn before I see it on his stupid face. "Oh, well, I guess you don't. Anywho, have a good night, Calista."
"Marty, it's barely two. You still have plenty of time to get back here and finish the Thompson presentation. It was supposed to be done yesterday."
"Oh, you're so much better at the paperwork, kiddo. Your granddad put his trust in you for a reason." The man could boop me on the nose and it would feel less patronizing than this. "I'll see you tomorrow!" He whistles while strutting down the aisle between the cubicles.
I grind the heels of my palms into my eyes and swallow down the frustrated growl before making my way back to my office, where Kelly, from accounting, stops me mid-stride.
"The bathroom's outta TP."
I feel my eyes glaze over from sheer shock, wondering how these people function in their home lives. "Did you call maintenance, as is protocol, when the facilities need attention?"
Kelly shrugs, giving me a bored look. "I couldn't remember the extension, figured I'd just tell you."
"It's nine. Dial nine, and the building manager will pick up. Tell him what you need."
Kelly's eyes narrow, souring the look on her pretty face. "Actually, Ben and I have a lot of work to do. He got in late this morning, so we're still catching up on this morning's accounts. If you wouldn't mind calling, that would be amazing. Thanks, boss!" She tosses her long blonde tresses over her shoulder and saunters back to her shared office.
I watch Ben through the glass walls. He looks up, eyes smoldering when he takes in Kelly's thin frame, her graceful curves highlighted by her tight gray pencil skirt. She says something to him, and his eyes flit to me before they both start laughing. Then she takes a seat on the same side of the desk as him, where, presumably, they'll start getting actual work done.
I adjust my suit jacket, tugging at the hems, then finally make my way to my office. After calling maintenance, I pull out the Thompson file.
Scrolling through the outline, I notice the client's company logo at the top of the presentation is wrong. It's their old one; Marty must have grabbed it off the internet and not the press packet they sent over. I fix it before noticing the projections we'd put together are off by an entire decimal. Rage simmers beneath the surface, but I take a deep breath, let out a heavy sigh, and finish the corrections.
By the end of the day, I'm spent. The office empties slowly, and like every other night, I'm the last to leave. I swap out my heels for low flats and tuck them neatly into my bag, slinging the oversized tote over my shoulder on my way out of the building.
On the walk home, I stop at the bodega near my apartment for a pre-packaged meal. It's cheap, but the owners are chupacabra-descendents and make the best damn blood sausage and rice bowls on the planet, so I don't feel too guilty eating it.
Can I afford a better meal? Of course.
When I get out of work late and go home to my empty apartment, do I feel like cooking an elaborate dinner for one? Not really.
Raindrops cool my neck, so I quicken my pace before I get caught in a storm. Once home, I set my bag down and carefully empty the contents, organizing my wallet and various items on the bench before putting my shoes and folded tote bag away.
I like order. I like when everything has a place, and I'll repack in the morning after choosing a different bag to match my pantsuit.
Padding barefoot into the kitchen, I pull out a pan, and while my dinner-for-one heats, I lean against the counter and gaze out the window at the rain beating down. When the food's ready, I pour a glass of water, shake out a cloth napkin, then sit downat the breakfast bar, carefully arranging the silverware before I start eating.
