My guts turn to jelly.
“Yeah, I’ve been meaning to catch you for our one-on-one,” he says, trying to recover some joviality.
He pats me on the shoulder and steers me out into the hall. I don’t give Patricia a backward glance, but something tells me that leer of hers just grew ten times, Grinch style.
The tan and blue corporate carpet hosts coffee and ink stains from years of hard work. Each cubicle in the main office is pinned up with the editor’s current projects and past successes—or failures depending on how they choose to motivate themselves. The white walls sport framed posters of our biggest books, likeThe Only Way BackandA Court of Crimson Crowns. They give me little comfort as I perform what feels like a death march to the boss’s corner office.
He closes the door behind me, and I stare at his desk, collecting my trainwreck of thoughts.
How do I present the facts without seeming like some kind of tattler or sore loser? I’d built that presentation to show my value for the open Senior Publicist position, which Patricia probably just secured with the CEO’s stamp of approval.
Okay. Just tell it like it is. He’ll believe you. You have evidence.
“Cait?” Vick asks and my eyes focus on him in his chair. “Sit?”
“Oh, right,” I say, smoothing my pleated skirt under my stockinged thighs as I sit in the awkward, leather seat.
“So, I know you’ve been vying hard for the Senior Publicist role that opened when Janice left.”
Shit, he’s jumping right in. I have to cut him off.
“Sir, if I may,” I say.
He nods. “I know, you’ve been putting in the hours.”
My blood pressure rises. It’s more than justhours.It’s been blood, sweat, and tears to get to this point.
“We’re so grateful you’ve been handling your accounts and the ones Janice left unmanaged from her swift departure.”
“But sir, please.”
“And you’ve been doing a great job; it’s just the thing is—”
Air burns in my lungs, a fire that only a scream will quench.
“Patricia has a more strategic mindset, while you’re more nose to the grind.”
“Patricia stole my presentation,” I say with an unhinged lilt as I slam my hands down on the arm rests.
Vick scowls, jerking his head back in surprise.
I take a deep breath and calm myself. “Sorry, sir, but that wasmypresentation in the boardroom, down to the very last stupid pun about passports. She stole it and put her name on it.”
He doesn’t say a word, just types a few things on his keyboard as my jelly guts liquify. He turns his screen around so I can see it as he points to an email.
“This is from Patricia on Wednesday,” he says.
There’s my presentation at the bottom, but it’s been savedwith ‘Evans_Final_Edits’ at the end.
“She cited you, right here—” he points to another line—“as a contributor on the data collection, which was really important.”
“Data collection,” I scoff, and my throat tightens. “I reached out to our German and Italian contacts to source that information. I picked through all the POS exports. I didallthe analysis on those exports. Then, I wrote the presentation. I dideverything.”
My voice has climbed to unreasonable heights again, and I’m standing.
Vick leans back and sighs. “If it was yours, why didn’t you bring it to me sooner?”
“I…” Tears burn behind my eyes. “I was nervous. I’d done another pass on the slides from Mexico over lunch today and I was going to email you tonight. Just look at the dates of the files in the shared drive. Mine is going to be from Monday.”
