by Jade Alters
“Who is he?” My mom says, already sounding way too excited. “Please tell me it’s that nice lawyer at your firm—”
I wrinkle my nose and try to concentrate on data entry, chewing my lip. How far should I go with this lie? “He runs an antique store in town. It does very well. He’s very handsome.”
“An antique store,” my mother says, scoffing. “And he’s straight?”
“Yes.” I lick my lips and glance around. I can see Ted moving around in his office behind me. I really need to go. “I’ll keep you updated, okay? Mom, I have to go. Please cancel that date with whatshisname.”
“Alright, dear. If you say so. Listen, he’s not one of those wizard freaks like your father, is he?”
I actually pause for a moment. I hate to lie when the lie shouldn’t be necessary. But then again, none of these lies should be necessary. “No,” I say flatly.
Even though the men who run that secret magic shop are clearly versed in spell-casting and know what they’re doing. They could be wizards or warlocks. I think they might even be something else on top of it. They gave off a powerful energy, now that I think about it. I was just too distracted by their general hotness to think much about it before.
“That’s good,” my mom says. “Because that type is trouble. Believe you me.”
“Okay…”
“Okay, well have a lovely day!” Amazing. She actually managed to say something positive while she was on the phone with me. I let her go and rub the back of my neck.
The weird thing about naming one of the antique store guys as a potential love interest for me, was that I didn’t have any one of them in particular in mind. They’re all so appealing. If I had to choose? I have no idea which one I’d choose. Good thing she didn’t ask for a name.
When I’m finally off the phone, I plunge back into work. But now, I’m thinking about those four hot guys who are helping me with the spell. They said they’d text me if they figured anything out. But I’m really hoping they text me regardless. If one of them was interested, I’d really have something. Any of them.
What about all four?
My demon brain can’t stop imagining that possibility, and I try to shove those kinds of daydreams out of my head. I’ve got too much work to do. But my work is tedious and doesn’t require much thought. Instead, my energy goes toward remembering that lovely evening I spent with all four men as I try to deduce which of them might have been interested in me. They were all flirting. It’s difficult to say. Maybe Nathan, but he seems like the most aggressive of them in general. I imagine myself sandwiched between Nathan and Grant, and I have to fan myself with a manila folder.
Down, girl.
I’m hardly off the phone with my mom for a minute before Ted calls me into his office. He’s stone-faced as he hovers in his office doorway, glaring over at me. I hop to my feet and my heart is already pounding. I’m starting to wonder if this stupid job is giving me an anxiety disorder. I wonder if you could sue for that? It’s an idle thought. I wouldn’t. But it does make one wonder.
There’s another woman in the office, sitting primly in one of those chairs in front of Ted’s desk. She’s from Human Resources. I think her name is Sandy. I remember her as having managed my onboarding stuff, though I haven’t spoken to her since.
Ted shuts the door behind me, and I know something awful is about to happen.
I’m going to get fired, I think to myself. For what, I have no idea. But yesterday, Ted was sure I was trying to seduce him, so God only knows.
I already feel tears prickling behind my eyes as Ted sits heavily down in his chair and glowers at me. This is way beyond moodiness, I realize now. Ted is delusional or having a breakdown or something. There’s nothing I can think of that I might have done that would make him this upset at me.
“Dora, have a seat,” Ted says stiffly.
I sit in the chair, and I’m so conscious of my body and every little thing I’m doing. I’m afraid he’s going to accuse me of “pushing my breasts together” again or something. I sit up straight, with my hands in my lap and stare down at his desk, avoiding eye contact. I hate that he’s making me act like a scared child, but here we are.
“I think you know Sandy from HR?” Ted nods at Sandy, who doesn’t smile. Although she doesn’t look any more comfortable about being there than I am. “Sandy is only here as a witness. For my own protection. After the way you behaved yesterday, I don’t believe we should have meetings alone anymore. I certainly don’t like that you’ve made it that way, but here we are.”
My entire face feels inflamed with shame. I feel like I’ve fallen into an upside down world with the way he’s talking. “Um, yes,” Sandy says. To her credit, Sandy doesn’t look totally certain about what Ted is saying. I think she feels forced to go along with it. It’s telling that I haven’t been interviewed about this supposed incident. I wonder if Sandy doesn’t believe what he’s saying about me. “I’ve had to write a report unfortunately,” Sandy says. “And I’ll need you to review and sign it to confirm that you’ve seen it. I may ask for your version of events at a later date. But that will be discussed—”
“I don’t think that’s necessary,” Ted says.
“Of course, it is,” Sandy says. Ted seems huffy about that, and Sandy only seems confused. “Anyhow, um, I’ll show you that report privately. But as Ted said, right now, I’m only here as a witness to your meeting. In the future, Ted, if you’re uncomfortable meeting with Dora, I would recommend you do so out on the floor by her desk.”
“If it’s convenient for me, I will,” Ted says as if it’s the biggest hassle in the world.
Boy, I’d really love to punch him in the nose right about now.
“I understand,” I say as calmly as I can possibly manage. “I apologize if my behavior was at all unprofessional. I assure you, it was unintentional. Is there something you need from me then, sir?”
I think I’m pretty composed. Though Ted seems all the more annoyed.
“Yes, there is. Those missing files?” He raises an eyebrow. “You only emailed me half of what I requested. I’m still going to need Pensky, Beramom, Flotieri and Franklin—”
“Yes, sir—”
“I wasn’t finished speaking.”
I’m tempted to try another spell for Ted’s benefit right about now. Except this one would make his nose turn inside out. Or maybe I could give him a donkey tail. Something awful, but not life-threatening. I wonder if there’s a spell for giving somebody porcupine needles…
“I’m sorry, sir.”
“Flotieri and Franklin.” Ted’s got this really creepy stare going on that’s aimed right at me. “I need them as soon as possible.”
“Yes, sir,” I say, nodding. “I haven’t found them yet as they haven’t been scanned into the paperless system yet since they’re older files. There’s quite a backlog on those older files, as I’m sure you know. I believe Sheila was going to hire temps to scan those in around spring—”
“I don’t care about any of that,” Ted says quickly. “I need those files by tomorrow morning or you’re fired.”
“What—”
“I don’t see how you could possibly be surprised after your recent behavior, but with this lack of professionalism, as far as work goes on top of it—”
“Ted!”
“Excuse me?” Ted says.”Do you have something to say?”
“No.” It comes out choked. I’m going to start sobbing any second. I have to get out of here. Stupid Sandy is no help at all. She’s just sitting there staring at her stupid HR binder like all of this just fine. “No, sir.”
“Then get the fuck out of here, and find me those files,” Ted says. “By the end of the day or else.”
I only nod curtly and practically run from his office. Then it’s a scramble to search for the files. I can’t get fired. Not on top of everything else. Not with my mother the way she is. It’s sad, but that would be worse than scraping by with my meager savings. My mom would never l
et me hear the end of it if I got fired. And somehow, she’d make it out to be all my fault.
I need to find those files.
Dora
I’m on the verge of a full-blown panic attack.
It’s almost six o’clock and I haven’t found a single one of the files. I’ve searched through the filing cabinets, where they should be organized alphabetically by last name, about a dozen times. I’ve searched the boxes that hold files yet to be put back, and I’ve searched the boxes of miscellaneous files, which should definitely not include them. I’ve looked through our paperless system backwards and forwards for these files, and I can’t find a single one. The thing is, none of this is even remotely my fault. I’m not a file clerk. We used to have a file clerk, and they got promoted and the firm hasn’t replaced him. That means that anyone can access the files at any time and move them around, and nobody is in charge of making sure they’re organized. It’s in no way my job, even if Ted is acting like it is.
Ted gave me until the next morning, but that’s a formality more than anything else. What he really meant was that he needs them by tomorrow morning and that I have until the end of the day. Well, the end of the day is here. The place is completely empty but for Ted and a couple of the other lawyers. But the rest of the support staff has left. The only other person remaining in the office is me. And all I’m doing is borrowing the office keys from the admin manager’s desk and searching from office to office, which would piss everyone off if they knew I was doing it, but I’m terrified and I’m running out of options. I’ve looked everywhere. The only other option is offsite storage, which we rarely use anymore. I don’t even know what’s in offsite storage, and I don’t know who to ask. I can ask Sheila, but I know, as sure as I know anything, that these files won’t be there anyway.
Ted keeps shooting me death glares through his office window and with the way things have been going, I’m afraid that he might do more than just fire me on the spot. He might try to hurt me. I’m probably being totally paranoid, but it’s the kind of otherworldly instinct that I think is important to listen to. I’ve had feelings like this before, and they’ve turned out to be well-founded.
My necklace feels almost hot around my neck, and I know it’s not all in my head. It’s as if my body is trying to tell me something, and I know exactly what it is.
Call for help.
There’s no real logical reason to text the guys from the antique store and cry for help like some damsel in distress. And yet, that instinctual feeling that rarely fails me is telling me I need to contact them.
I try not to think about how silly I’m going to seem and text Grant because he happened to send me a funny cat gif while I was on lunch.
I’m a little scared of Ted right now, I text him.
I don’t know what else to say. There’s no emergency actually happening. I’m just worried, and I have a bad feeling. I’m hoping someone will just offer to reach out.
Are you at the office? Grant texts back immediately.
I tell that I am and that Ted was weird again today. I make it clear that nothing has happened but that I have a “bad feeling.” Grant texts back so fast that I can tell his reply was sent before I even explained myself.
I’m coming over there. Address?
I sigh in relief. If nothing else, I get to see Grant, who is charming and adorable. He texts me again that I should try to stick to my desk, or hide in the bathroom if I can, and not to leave the building alone, just in case. I feel kind of touched that he’s taking it all so seriously.
Then I start to wonder if they researched the spell I did and know what went wrong and what could happen as a result. I hope not. Yikes. What I really want is for them to find out everything is peachy keen.
I text back a thumbs up and almost the second I put my phone down, Ted is standing in front of my desk. I didn’t even see him coming. It’s like he appeared from nowhere, and it makes me jump. My heart is racing again. He’s found me surrounded by half-empty boxes because I’ve been searching for those files even though I know it’s all useless.
“Who were you texting?” Ted says, biting on the words.
“It’s none of your business, sir.” He’s about to go ape shit no matter what I say anyway. I might as well speak my mind. “I’m here after hours, and I’m not getting overtime because—”
“Did you find the files?” He’s practically hissing as he speaks. He leans on the desk, looming over me. He looks like he wants to kill me. I might be a little paranoid, but he’s definitely trying to physically intimidate me at the very least. I hate feeling physically intimidated by men. It’s frightening.
“I didn’t,” I say slowly. “I looked everywhere. I promise you. I didn’t misplace them. It’s just, we have no file clerk anymore—”
“Alright.” Ted nods, sounding deceptively casual when he’s obviously livid. “Come into my office. We need to talk.”
“I don’t…” I swallow. I feel like my entire body is choking up. My mouth is dry as toast. “If you could just give me a minute—”
“Is there a problem, Miss Langley?” Ted says, curling his lips. “Get your ass up out of that chair, and get in my office.” He’s practically snarling and that instinctual feeling comes back full force. I don’t want to be alone in a room with him.
“I’m just going to the restroom,” I finally say bitingly, my eyes flashing. “I think you can wait two minutes, sir!”
Ted looks so angry, his face turns white. I watch his knuckles gripping the edge of my desk like he wants to crumble it into dust. I get up from my chair, and I’m trembling. I don’t even go to the restroom. I go to the break room and drink two cups of water. I’m just trying to stall so Grant can get here. I lean against the window that looks out on downtown Coleridge and take a series of deep breaths. The antique store is just a couple of miles away. Grant should get here really quick. I just have to stall. I take my time in the empty break room, straightening up the packets of coffee, filters, tea bags, and plastic utensils. I even scrub out the coffee maker and get it set for the next day. Anything to waste a little time before Ted demands to see me.
Grant, please get here quick…
“DORAAAA!” Ted’s yell is more like a scream, but now we’re the only two left in the office, the other few lawyers having left.
I’m shaking like a leaf when I go out and see him standing by my desk, glaring in my direction. I swallow and he sniffs, looking at me like I’m a rat or something as equally unpleasant.
“Stop wasting time,” he says. “In my office now.”
I walk over to him, clenching my fists and trying to keep myself together. In his office, I don’t want to sit but he just snaps his fingers and points to the chair.
“No files,” he says. “No job. You’re fired. Frankly, it’s about time, after the behavior you’ve been exhibiting. I’m also fairly certain you’ve been selling confidential information about our clients and don’t think I won’t be looking into that. You’ll be lucky if I don’t sue your ass when I’m done investigating whatever it is you’ve been doing around here.”
“Sir… Ted. I haven’t—” My voice is shaking so badly, it pisses me off. But it’s like this situation has become so surreally awful for no reason that I can’t quite process it. It’s utterly overwhelming. It’s all too crazy for him to just be getting something wrong. Which means he’s either lying or crazy. But why bother with the lie when it’s just the two of us? Which leaves crazy. He doesn’t really look crazy but the things he’s saying… I’ve always been very careful with the clients’ confidential information even though I’m not a lawyer. I never repeat anything I overhear, and I never take files home. I certainly wouldn’t sell anything. This is insane.
He slides a resignation letter across the table, and I feel tears slide down my face before I even realize they’re there. “You will sign this. You will gather your things. You will get the fuck out of this building. You have fifteen minutes before I call security to escor
t you out.”
He gives me that murderous glare again, and I can’t stop the tears that come as I take the pen he offers me and shakily sign the resignation letter. It’s boilerplate, but it does outline my severance, which he’s forced to give me. At least that’s something. I guess? The thing is, I really used to like this job. And now it’s gone.
Ted blathers on about how he’ll mail me a copy of the letter and any other paperwork Human Resources needs to include, and that the severance and remainder of my paycheck and accumulated paid time off will be directly deposited to my bank account within two weeks and yadda, yadda…
“Now get your things and get out,” he says, sneering at me again.
I get up, and I don’t even try to stop myself from sobbing. It’s like my entire body is trying to process what my mind can’t handle. I have to go find my own box and start throwing in all my personal items. I can barely concentrate, I’m crying so hard. I give myself a minute to take a deep breath and attempt to compose myself and blow my nose. It’s all so mortifying, and I’m still not comfortable with him being the only other person here.
I’ve only managed to toss a few things in the box when the elevator on our floor dings, and I see Grant walking out. He sees me right away and runs over. I barely know the guy. We’ve only spoken for a bit, and I’ve had dinner with him. I don’t know that it would be fair to even call him a friend yet. But now, I find myself falling into his arms as he looks at me with intense concern.
“Whoa, whoa,” Grant murmurs. “Oh Dora, what happened? Where’s Mr. Asshole? What’s going on?”
I lean back and shake my head, wiping my eyes on my sleeve. “He just fired me. Just now. He accused me of selling client information which… Grant, I haven’t! I’ve never done anything like that—I just… It’s all such a shock. I’m so sorry I bothered you—”
