by Rene Penn
Is she? Flirting? No.
That didn't make sense. She never had before. And he certainly hadn't. He'd given himself a rule: no flirting at work. Because flirting could lead to dating, and dating could lead to something serious. And getting serious could lead to someone pulling a bait-and-switch, like his ex had. If that happened, he’d have to deal with seeing the woman in the office every day. Not worth the risk.
Plus, Jules worked for him. A boss crossing the line with a cute employee? Cliché and weak.
He dismissed his mind’s chatter to get back to the dreadful task.
He swallowed hard and then said, “I have to let you go.”
“Excuse me?” She blinked a few times, her thick lashes fluttering quickly.
“Jules, I’m going to have to let you go.”
She blinked more, and a small tremble passed over her mouth. “But I…it’s right before the holidays.”
“It is.” If she only knew how many times he’d mulled over that since yesterday afternoon.
“But why?”
“Budget reasons,” he answered crisply. She didn’t need to know that her replacement would be getting paid less.
Her chin quivered. Was she going to cry? Crap, he hadn’t thought of that. He glanced at the tissues on his desk. The box sat within arm’s reach. He could have them ready for her a milli-second after a tear fell. But he wouldn’t do it now, because she may not cry at all. And if he put the tissue box in front of her, before she started crying, it may encourage her. Or, his chivalry could backfire, and she could be annoyed that he assumed she’d cry over this.
“I don’t know what to say. I’ve never been laid off before. Serves me right, I guess.”
Serves her right? Bryan tipped his head to the side. “In what way?”
“I came in here to…” Jules let out an awkward chuckle. “Never mind.” Her soft, oval face and neck tightened. “You’ve kind of hated me anyway.”
What was she saying? "That's not true." She made this personal, and it wasn't. "You're well-liked throughout the whole team."
"Being well-liked hasn't gotten me a promotion or a review higher than a three out of five. People get three out of five for showing up and not wearing their pajamas." Her tone slapped the air. An edge scraped each word.
"At your reviews, we've discussed actionable steps on how to improve your score," which she'd chosen not to take, "like seeking out leadership roles, for instance."
“I did seek out a leadership role. I’m heading the Holiday Party Planning Committee.”
Yes, but that wasn’t exactly what he had in mind. “It’s a good starting point.”
“But not good enough.”
He was trying to figure out what to say next, when she asked, “So, what do I do now?”
Bryan exhaled. Hearing those words made him think he’d made it over a hump. She’d accepted the news. “You work until your last day.”
“And when is that?”
Bryan cleared his throat. “December twentieth.”
He could practically see her flipping through the calendar, counting through the days. She said, “The day after the holiday party.”
He nodded.
“Might as well as use me while they can, huh?”
A bout of queasiness hit Bryan again. Without stopping himself, he said, “I shouldn’t even be telling you as much as I have already. They wanted me to wait to tell you, but I couldn’t.”
“When the hell were you supposed to tell me?” Jules asked. “The day before Christmas, where a pink slip will be gift-wrapped and left in my mail slot?”
The timing no longer mattered. He'd told her now. And he was glad he did, despite the pain and resentment that crossed Jules's face.
Bryan said, “My hands are tied. It’s a decision from higher up. There’s nothing more I can do.”
Jules’ face pinched like a tight drum. “Who else is getting fired?”
“You’re not getting fired. It’s a layoff. You’ll get severance. Eight weeks’ worth.” At least, he’d won that part of the battle with Ernie.
“Who else is getting laid off?”
Right. He hadn’t answered the question the first time she asked, had he?
Jules gasped. “I’m the only one?”
“You and Ted.”
Her brow furrowed again. “Ted Hatcher?”
“Yes, that Ted.”
Jules gripped the arms of the chair. “Will I be replaced?”
“I don’t know,” he lied. He’d given her enough bad news for one day. He couldn’t tell her the rest. Not now.
“This is really happening.” A cloud of liquid brewed near the tip of her eye.
He unclasped his hands, making it easier to grab the tissue box, if necessary. “I’m afraid so.”
Jules asked again. “When did they want you to tell me?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m telling you now. Look, you’re a great employee…”
Jules cut in, "Not great enough."
No, she wasn't great. Why had he even used that word? She was a good employee with a great personality. Any company would be pleased to have her. They could develop her skills, help her excel in her role, move her up, something that he seemed unable to accomplish as her manager.
Bryan said, “You’ll be an asset for any team.”
Jules blinked back the brewing tear. "Just not this one anymore."
A line of sweat bubbled along the back of his collar. Her blue eyes continued to water, all while shooting daggers at him. An impossible feat she carried out effortlessly.
“I want to help you in any way I can. I’ll be a reference. I’ll give you a great recommendation,” said Bryan.
“There’s that word again.”
He made a mental reminder to abolish the word great from his vocabulary going forward. He was getting sloppy with his speech. He needed to close this meeting.
“I’ve already started tapping into my network. And I’m going to make more calls today. I just have to be careful. We have to be careful,” he stressed, “because you shouldn’t know this news yet. No one else is supposed to know it. You can’t say anything to anyone.” To show that he meant it, he locked into her gaze. He wanted to make her promise, but he knew that would be asking way too much right now.
“I get it. I’m supposed to pretend I don’t know.” Jules glanced away. “Continue working and planning the Christmas party, like a good employee. A great employee.”
Her fascination with that word made him more nervous. The smug look on her face exacerbated the feeling. The surly tone in her voice made him glad he’d put his scissors away.
“Do you have any more questions for me?” he asked, hoping her answer would be no.
Jules tilted her head a little, as if she were reading his mind. And then she said, “No. If that’s all, I’ll go now.”
“Sure.” He stood up. She did the same, a quiet, weighted rise to her feet.
She looked so sad. Sad but incredibly beautiful.
His chest ached for a moment. He attributed the feeling to his first time laying someone off. The feeling sucked.
After she left, he plopped down in his chair, picked up his phone, and exhaled.
"Hi, it's Bryan," he said when Ted Hatcher answered. "Can you come to my office?"
◆◆◆
Jules and Kerri sat at a high-top table in a local bar, Shooters and Stouts. An acoustic guitarist covered the latest pop songs, while clusters of patrons nearby cheered at the Washington Wizards game on TV. It was the perfect place to tell your friend you’ve been laid off. You do it over a beer—not while sipping martinis or enjoying a delicious daiquiri brain-freeze. You do it at a bar with communal pretzel bowls, sticky floors, and dusty ductwork.
Jules curled her shoe around the chair leg. She hunched over a Guinness. Her second. “Crazy, right? I ask Santa to bring me a Ryan. And instead, Santa brings me Bryan, my boss, who fires me.”
“A bloody shame.”
Kerri practiced a British accent
for her upcoming role in a community play on New Year’s Eve. To Jules, now didn’t seem like the opportune time.
"If I'd known I was getting laid off, I wouldn't have gone through all the trouble of becoming subtle bait. I went corporate sexy today. I wore smoky eye makeup, flat-ironed my hair, and kept it down, put on the tightest cardigan and shortest work-appropriate skirt I have." Jules loved that skirt. "You know, the black and gray plaid wool one with the little bit of fringe at the bottom?"
What had Jules been thinking? That Bryan would suddenly become interested in her? He'd see her corporate-sexy ensemble, pull her into his office, do things to her that would collectively make the Human Resources department shriek, and pronounce her his holiday fling.
Maybe she wouldn't be alone for Christmas.
They could spend December twenty-sixth together, too. Then come Monday, they’d be business as usual, back to their boss-employee relationship, with this fun little secret. And Jules wouldn’t have to worry about her parents until next year.
Okay, Jules had thought of all of those things happening. In vivid detail. She'd even thought about the underwear with the beads from Victoria's Secret. But she knew nothing would transpire. Those kinds of things never happened to her, nor to anyone else she knew.
Kerri said, "I know the skirt you're talking about. How could he resist you in that? What a wanker." Kerri pronounced her words in clip, sharp tones.
“Do you have to do the accent tonight?” Jules asked.
“I do.” Do sounded more like duh. Kerri must’ve been going for a brasher English accent, which was a sensible choice, given the circumstance. “Maybe Bryan took one look at you today—with the fringe skirt and all—and realized he couldn’t trust himself around you anymore. To avoid crossing the boss-employee line of flirtation, he had no choice but to sack you.”
Sack the British way, as in to fire Jules, not sack, the American way, as in to take Jules to bed.
Oh, the irony.
"If that's why Bryan let me go, that means he also couldn't trust himself around my coworker Ted Hatcher, who wears the same two outfits to work and has the teeth of a ninety-seven-year-old."
“I forgot about Ted Hatcher.” Kerri leaned forward. “This is going to sound bloody horrible, but I’m glad you weren’t the only one to get shagged.”
Jules rolled her eyes. “You mean sacked not shagged. Hey, both words sound bad in this context, by the way.”
"Oh, love." Kerri tried to scoot her high-top chair backward, probably to hug Jules. But Kerri's chair had planted roots into the sticky floor. She briefly looked like she was about to tip over. She swayed and recovered, then said, "I'm here for you. And so is your eight-weeks' severance package."
“Thank God.” Jules dug into the prime rib.
“I’m sure you’ll find a job in no time, especially if he’s helping and offered to be a reference. It’s the least the wanker can do. You deserve a good Christmas.” After taking a bite into her burger, she said, “I think this is even more reason why you should spend Christmas with your mum or,” she paused, “your dud.”
“I don’t think the Brits say ‘dud’ for dad.”
"They must if they say mum for mom." When Jules didn't try to dissuade her, Kerri said, "Your other option is to come with me to Barbados for Christmas. The sun, the beach, the food, my family. It will do wonders."
Jules did not doubt that it would. They'd gone together once before to visit Kerri's family. When their time was up, Jules hardly wanted to return to the States.
“My passport expired. I’ve told you this every time you bring up Barbados.”
Cheers erupted from a few customers watching the basketball game. To be heard over them, Kerri spoke a little louder. “Fine. But you have a year to get your passport renewed.” She jabbed the wood table with her slender ringed forefinger, like she meant business. “Next year, I won’t take no for an answer.”
Jules wiggled her nose at Kerri. "My decision. My passport. My holiday." Her friend sank back in her chair, defeated. "I'll find a way to make this a good Christmas. Somehow." Jules squeaked out the last word. She hoped her voice didn't sound as pathetic as it did to her ears.
Kerri said, “I’d figure out a way to stick it to the wanker before I left. But that’s just me. Too bad I don’t work there. I’d do it on your behalf.”
“If you worked with me, I’d never get anything done. I would’ve been fired a long time ago.”
Jules laughed, but her mind latched onto what Kerri had said, mulling it over, toying with it like Play-Doh. Jules didn't want to "stick it to the wanker," as Kerri had eloquently put it. That seemed like a terrible motive, the kind that would eat at her conscience. Besides, if Bryan were telling the truth, then her layoff wasn't his idea.
But, the higher-ups at work wanted to keep Jules on to make sure she helped plan a nice holiday party. Well, wouldn't she be a great employee if she made sure they got what they wanted? And what if, at the same time, she could give her colleagues the best holiday party ever?
As the head of the company’s holiday party committee, Jules had the power and the resources—well, sort of—to pull it off.
Santa may not have been good to her this year, but that didn’t mean Santa couldn’t be good to everyone else. Besides, she liked her coworkers. An awesome holiday party would be a great parting gift from her to them. They’d tap their network to help her find a new job and give her references.
A devilish smile crossed Jules' lips. "I thought of a crazy idea." Jules covered her face for a second, but the wicked smile perked beneath. "It's something I would never do, but—"
“Something you’d never do? I love it already.” Kerri leaned forward.
Jules didn’t need Santa. She was going to be Santa this year.
And Santa Jules was going to put a box of revenge under the Christmas tree, wrapped in a shiny holiday party bow.
◆◆◆
Bryan’s weekend flew by. He'd played a pick-up game of basketball with some guys at the gym. He'd caught a movie at a theater nearby, one of Jason Statham's latest action flicks. He'd met up with a few buddies at a bar in Arlington. And a couple of times on Sunday, while running errands and watching football, he thought of how Jules was handling the layoff.
It was Monday morning now, back to work, and Bryan headed to the breakroom for his morning jolt of caffeine. Jules huddled around the coffee machine with Daphne—also from account management—and Sarah, a copywriter.
Daphne fervently declared, “Oh, my God, Jamie looks so…” as Bryan walked in.
An “Ahem” launched from Jules’ throat, loud enough to announce Bryan’s presence to the others.
He already knew what they were discussing. They did it every Monday morning, the same three ladies, either in the coffee room like this or at Jules' desk.
Instead of ignoring them, Bryan decided he’d join the conversation—on the periphery, at least. He could see how Jules may have been processing the news he’d given her since Friday.
“Discussing Outlander?” Bryan asked.
It was the first time he’d ever called the ladies out on it, and his foresight sent them into a fit of giggles.
“Yes,” Daphne said. “Do you watch it?”
“No.”
Bryan pushed the Dark Roast button on the coffee machine and slid a mug underneath. The ceramic cup branded with the company name, Jacobs Stern Advertising, with its teal and purple JSA logo.
Sarah said to the ladies, “Bryan sort of looks like Lord John Grey.”
“He does,” Daphne smiled. “I never noticed until now.”
“I have.” Sarah’s eyes crawled from Bryan’s face down to his torso, parsing through his layers of tie, dress shirt, and undershirt.
Sarah had hit on him within his first few weeks on the job. He'd shot down her attempt with a curt, "I don't go there with co-workers," and she got the message.
Now, Bryan wished he’d never tried to work his way into this Outlander conversat
ion. He could’ve done without the salacious look from Sarah.
Bryan yanked the mug from the machine before it came to a complete stop, grabbed a sugar packet, said, “Ladies,” with a nod, and left the breakroom.
◆◆◆
Jules tightened her grip on the purple folder that she held. The contents made her grin like a mischievous cat. That morning she’d come into work early, made phone calls, did some online shopping, and printed out procurement requests for the holiday party. Requests with innocuous, generic wording, like “party decorations, favors, and supplies”…
Requests that Bryan needed to sign for approval.
His sign-off would give accounts payable permission to pay for the tricks, bells, and whistles that Jules had up her sleeve. And what better time to get his signature than in the morning, while he wasn’t fully caffeinated?
She followed him out of the breakroom, into the hallway. His chocolate-brown hair was in standard form—short on the sides and a little longer up top. He wore a blue-and-white checkered shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a textured olive-green-and-blue tie, khakis, and dark-brown suede shoes…
And she was noticing all of this, why?
What the heck was wrong with her? He’d freaking fired her. She should not be analyzing how his muscles rippled beneath his shirt.
Stop it!
“Bryan.” Jules smiled when he turned around. “I have some procurement requests for you to sign for the holiday party.”
They stepped to the side in front of a glass case that showcased the company’s bronze and silver advertising awards. Jules’ hands trembled as she handed Bryan the folder. She’d placed the signature page for him on top, hoping he wouldn’t leaf through the sheets below and start asking questions: What are in-person party favors and exclusive-level decorations?
Bryan stared at the top page, his thumb brushing against the bottom edge of the paper. He was about to turn the sheets over to see what was beneath. Jules' breath quickened.
“How’s Ted?” she blurted.
Bryan glanced up the hall. Checking to see if the coast was clear of coworkers passing by, she guessed. He firmly met her gaze. “He’ll be out for the next couple of weeks. Until...” His voice dropped off.
