CARL DAVIS
Supply Chain Manager
The department manager’s name catches your eye in bold letters on a plaque he had made himself. No other manager has their name on the door. I guess it gives him a rush of power he doesn’t hesitate to use any chance he gets.
Nervous and shaky, I knock and wait, swaying on the balls of my feet. He always makes you wait a couple of seconds, but this time an eternity passes as I frantically look out for people who might pass by.
“Come in!” He barks the order, pretending I’m interrupting his workflow. But I know better, sincelast minute/oh, I forgot about this/ you’re the best at itreports often land on my desk.
A sleazy grin splits his face when he notices it’s me and I pretend not to register the inappropriate once-over he gives me.
“Mornin’, sweet Eliza,” he coos in a sickening sugary voice.
I guess this is him being comforting. Gross. He’s always been lewd, but he must know what happened already because he’s upping the ante.
“Morning, Carl. Can we talk for a minute?” I close the door behind me, but his expression changes to a mixture of interest and something slimy. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea.
“We can talk all you want. I’ll always make time for you. Even after hours.” He quirks his eyebrows, resembling two large caterpillars.
His innuendos always made me feel like I’d taken a roll in a pigsty, and I fight a shudder.
Just rip the Band-Aid, Eliza. Say it.
“I quit.”
The folds in his cheeks tremble as his face morphs in confusion and he drops the sleazy smirk. “Why? I mean—” He fumbles, dropping his mask.
The way his expression changes would be funny if it didn’t terrify me.
“Let’s cut to the chase. I know about Jared and Caroline. I sympathize.” The mock sadness with the palm-on-his-bosom act is not convincing. “But I can move you to another floor. Change your department.”
“I can’t.” My voice trembles and I hate it.
I don’t want to look weak in front of him because I know he’ll take advantage of it.
“Don’t be stupid, girl,” he says, shaking his head, his voice rising an octave.
Tears fill my eyes. I don’t want to be in the same building with these people. I’ll never escape the rumors; it would be impossible to avoid Jared and Caroline.
“I have every right to quit.” I stand my ground with the last ounce of nerve I own. “I have enough days off to cover the two weeks’ notice.”
“What did you say?” Carl leaps to his feet, slamming his palms on the cheap plywood desk and I jump back.
Beads of sweat slide down his forehead to the rhythm of his heavy wheeze. This side of Carl has my pulse spiking, my heart frantic like a little bird squished in his meaty fist.
The door stops my retreat when I take another step back, my fingers reaching for that raised white line near my left eyebrow.
“I—” There is not enough air in this room and I’m grateful Carl is too sluggish to walk around the desk and get closer.
He changes gears again and the benevolent boss mask is back on when I fumble for the doorknob. I can’t be here another second.
“A single woman, with no family or connections needs every penny. I can withhold your last paycheck,” Carl says.
“You wouldn’t! It’s not legal!” I croak, panic struck.
“One dinner at my place. I’m not asking for much.”
My knees almost give and I’m blinded by tears. With my last ounce of will I dash out, running to the exit, any precaution forgotten.
