“Management,” she repeated, toying with me.
“Why is it on my desk? We have file clerks.”
We had at least two on staff for such projects. I hadn't filed since I was an intern in college. I wasn't about to do it again. I had more than enough work to do.
“I was asked to have you complete the task, Elena. Don't be insubordinate.” She narrowed her eyes, tilting her chin in the air with a huff.
I was ready to challenge her further, but something in the far corner caught my eye. I turned from the smug blond to the brooding bastard speaking with Marty, dressed to kill in a black suit and blood-red tie. His arms were crossed over his chest, and his expression hard.
Was this punishment for running into him? Seriously?Clearly, apologies fell on deaf ears with him. So did paying for dry cleaning.
He offered a smirk in return, the audacity igniting the rage I tried to squash.
“This is bullshit!” I scanned my cube, trying to do a quick count. I lost track after twelve. “How am I supposed to get these all to the file room? Why didn't they drop them there?”
“You can always get a hand truck!” Monica cackled.
“Fuck my life.”
Lee appeared, a tote slung over her shoulder with her hands full of keys and a bagel stuffed with enough cream cheese to look like a whoopie pie. She still had her aviators on, her scarlet mane framing her face.
“What the hell is going on?” she asked, dropping everything but her coffee and bagel on her desk with a thud.
“Apparently, I'm a file clerk for the day!”
Monica cackled louder, her teeth catching the light as she laughed at my expense. It took everything in me to not chuck something at her.
“Let me catch up on my emails, and I'll help...” Lee trailed, flipping her computer on and snarling at Monica.
“Management was clear in their instruction that Elena is to handle this, Lee. You will be her backup for the day and handle her inbox.”
“That's bullshit!” Lee and I said in unison.
I did my best to reel in anger, mentally counting to ten. I set my coffee down, grabbed a box, and stalked towards Marty, determined to say something.
He was all but cowering beside Barrett, hands stuffed in his pockets and eyes glued to the floor.
Rather than screaming like a banshee, I eyed him up, weighing my options. “Since I'm not dressed for the job, can you have someone move the rest of the files for me? Unfortunately, heels and heavy lifting don't mix. I'd hate to get injured on the job.” I gestured at my stilted pumps, the black patent leather glinting in the light.
His shoulders slumped. “Absolutely, Elena. Thank you so much for doing this.”
Beside him, Barrett remained stiff with his arms still crossed. The slight smirk remained.
I wasn't going to say another word, but that damn smirk was too much.
“Not a problem. You're paying me to file papers all day. It's a welcome relief.” I forced my best smile. “Great strategy too. I'm sure it's a perfect use of our limited resources.”
I threw that extra one in for Barrett, but he didn't take the bait. He kept smirking.
“Sometimes, it's healthy to change things up...” Marty murmured, avoiding eye contact.
I glared at Barrett, rage boiling. “Sometimes, not.”
I was close to saying something I'd regret, so I spun on my heel and stalked out of the room, knowing one day I would let that towering tyrant know what I thought of him, and it wouldn’t be PG-13.
* * *
I hated filing more than I did in college. Especially in heels.
I thought the mind-numbing repetition would calm my anger, but it only drew out my rage, blossoming its flavor.
I apologized. I paid for his dry cleaning. What else did he want?
He graduated to going out of his way to be a jerk rather than merely being rude in passing or flat out ignoring me. He wasn't willing to play nice even with a peace offering. He wanted me to be miserable.
It took hours to file everything, sorting reports and contracts that should have been scanned and stored digitally as well to meet retention requirements. I didn’t ask if it had been done since Barrett didn’t deserve any favors. He could be the one to answer for it.
I could only hope the rumors about him only staying until January were true, a permanent director filling the role while he’d skate along to Chicago.
My feet throbbed despite abandoning my heels after hour two, spending the day padding across the room without a care in the world. I hoped the jackass would walk in and catch me. I'd have a field day if he said a word about it.
My head pounded as I closed the last drawer, hours of tension catching up to me, but I finished it. I filed every document like a champ, neatly stacking the empty boxes in twin pillars. I wouldn’t go out a quitter. I'd pass it off as a good deed at my next interview for extra oohs and ahs.
I glanced at my phone for the time, dying inside when seven-thirty stared back at me.
“Crap!” I groaned, sliding my shoes on and hurrying to the hall, desperate to see what was waiting for me at my desk.
With each step, my feet ached more, and by the time I hit the sales office, I was limping. The physical pain was met with anguish when I reached my desk, countless documents splayed across it.
While Barrett’s punishment was simple, it was brutally effective in setting me back and breaking me down. If he was hoping to get my attention, he had, knocking me to my knees with his stupid project. Even with Lee's help, it would take days to get caught up.
No matter what anger I had built up like a dam, it was nothing compared to the tears, bursting through with hot fury.
I started the day on such a high only to
