Note: So I have watched this movie like 3 times because I'm one of those rom com idiots. Anyways, there might be a few things off from the movie every now and again but this is a fanfic so it's bound to be different in some ways. Enjoy!
Chapter one
Hell in heels
Click. Click. Click.
Hushed murmurs and the scrambling of feet could just barely be heard over the sound of heels making their way through the office. No one dared cross the woman who owned said heels, as hell hath no fury like Margaret Tate. Rumour had it that the woman returned pent up from the holidays due to the lack of co-workers for her to lacerate.
Trailing after, her ever loyal steed struggled to keep up with her pace but also maintain a respectful distance. Andrew Paxton, executive assistant, kept his head down but his eyes and ears sharp. Despite the distracted expression upon his downcast face, his senses were attuned to being alert after 3 years of working for the wicked witch of The New Press.
During his first months as an intern, Drew quickly learned after his first time that asking Ms. Tate to repeat herself was the biggest mistake one could make. Needless to say, the first time he had done so had evidently been his last time.
Stepping into her office, Drew carefully locked the door after her, silently wondering what the purpose of glass doors were. The function of a closed door was to create privacy but as he glanced through the glass, he caught the eye of many of his co-workers. Most of them gave him a smile of pity but some silently laughed upon his misfortune.
'Patience,' He told himself, as he placed the witch's coffee upon her desk before fading away into the background. 'Just a few more months and you're free.'
"Why, exactly are you just standing there?" Her voice clipped through the air and ripped him right out of his thoughts. She had yet to acknowledge his presence with the briefest of glances but Drew found he could care less. In fact, he'd be more than content if she chose to ignore him for the rest of his sod-ridden career.
A few more months was starting to feel as though they were decades away.
"Uh...Quinton called. Something about the cancellation from last week and rescheduling for this week?" He hastily formed his reply. The message wasn't anything of the utmost importance but he wasn't certain what exactly she expected from him.
Usually, she simply expected him to be in her office in the mornings for a brief follow up of events and tasks she required of him. The fact she questioned his presence had him realizing something was different this morning.
Naturally he would've blamed it upon PMS but that excuse couldn't be used 24/7 with the witch. Besides, he knew for a fact she had just been on her monthly two weeks ago when she phoned him to run some late night earns; said Tampax runs had gotten easy over the course of the years. The shopkeeper he often visited thought he was sweetest and Drew was surprised when last time she'd given him her number in case things with his current 'girlfriend' didn't work out...
Often he wondered about the extra hours he put into this job. He doubted others would've put up with what he did on a daily basis and silently he knew there were other positions he could apply. America: the place of opportunities and dreams. He'd be the first to call bullshit on that.
The amount of paperwork and years that went into getting to where he was today was ridiculous. While he wasn't certain whether this job was taking him anywhere, he was determined not to lose it. He had made his way this far up the ladder, so to speak and while he was having difficulty with a particular rung, he wasn't about to start over with a different ladder. It would take years for him to get back a position as executive editor even with all his work experience.
"You didn't answer my question." The witch merely stated, crossing her legs and finally glancing up from the papers she was looking at. The look in her eyes was a mixture of irritation, boredom and fatigue if those bags under her eyes were anything to go by.
Not wanting to provoke her any further, Drew stuttered out some nonsense about having to photocopy something and made his way out of the office. Once he was several paces away, he allowed himself to sigh as he headed towards his cubicle. Today was going to be a long day by the looks of it. Fortunately for him he was used to those.
Margaret regarded the coffee cup on her desk, squinting at the flirtatious feminine writing and phone number. She took a sip gingerly, rolling her eyes to find that the cup tasted exactly like her special blend. Undoubtedly she currently held her assistant's cup and while she didn't know or care what happened to her own cup, she found it was more than pathetic for the man to order two in the case hers spilled.
'Men,' she thought with a vague disgust. 'If you want something done right, you'll have to do it yourself.' She made a mental note to chew Drew out for the little stunt later, if only to keep him on his toes. She didn't understand how it was possible to mess up a simple task and briefly wondered if he screwed anything else up today.
She couldn't afford screw ups, not with all the effort she put into this company. There had been many a time when she thought of letting Drew go but the man always managed to follow through in the end. Despite his tendency to only give his 90% in his work, she could say honestly it was far more effort than most put in. Not that she would ever say it. Men already had large enough egos in her experience.
Tossing the now empty cup into the small metal bin to her right, she stood up and straightened her clothes. This was not going to be fun.
Regardless what others thought of her, she didn't enjoy firing people. Yes, she could admit to herself there was a certain rush of power in the moment and the authority she felt was sometimes oddly rewarding. Simply knowing that she had made it so far and had the ability to make decisions like letting someone go could be addicting.
However, she did not like sacking people, putting them out of a job because she knew how that felt. There were few who knew of her life prior to moving to the U.S but she had faced struggles in Toronto and knew the shame of being fired. Despite her best efforts, she could remember her failures and wondering why she was never given a second chance.
The same couldn't be said for Bob Spaulding. She had given the man many chances with Frank but also prior to Frank and if she was honest, his attitude itself was a difficult one to manage. The man was lazy, unreliable and his unenthusiastic work ethics affected those around him; which is why she was currently on her way to his office.
She found no need to beat around the bush but she knew small talk was considered civil. She made an attempt.
"Beautiful breakfront. Is it new?" She asked uninterested as she inspected the new piece of furniture. Well, the furniture was beautiful and interesting but as Bob rambled on about Egyptian architecture, she decided it was best to just cut to the chase.
"Witty." She commented dryly, somewhat registering a joke the man made. "Bob, I'm letting you go."
In the distance she could hear the comments and gasps of the workers beyond the door. Andrew himself had been lingering in the hall and cleared his throat awkwardly upon hearing the news. Still, she kept the same neutral expression on her face and watched as the man before her stood almost ridiculously flabbergasted.
Really, was it that much of a surprise to everyone?
"I-I beg your pardon?" The man stuttered out a nervous laugh and Margaret bit back a sigh. If he was going to play it this way then she supposed she might as well indulge him.
"I asked you a dozen times to get Frank to do Oprah, and you didn't do it. Henceforth, you're fired." She continued bluntly. She watched him go to open his mouth in protest but simply held up her hand. "No. Don't tell me it's impossible because you know what Bob? I just got off the phone with him this morning and he's in."
"Excuse me?"
Feeling the beginnings of a migraine coming on, Margaret chewed the inside of her cheek and figured it was time to wrap things up.
"I'm guessing you didn't even call him…And I know that Frank can be a little "scary" but being afraid of things isn't going to get you anywhere, Bob. You need to take risks." She noticed the man seemed slightly offended by her last comment and Margaret wasn't all too surprised. Why was it that when someone offered any man advice on how to improve their character they took it as an insult?
"Now, I'll give you two months to find another job." She said in a slightly softer tone but she didn't think the fuming man noticed. This really wasn't going to end well but she had anticipated for it and therefore she was a bit more prepared.
As she left his room, she walked towards where Andrew was standing, trying and failing to appear busy with a phone call. "What's his twenty?"
"He's moving. He has crazy eyes." He replied, hanging up the phone and following her as she headed back to her office. She was only several steps away.
'Come on, Bob. Don't do it.' She mentally pleaded for the man's sake more than her own. She didn't want to have to tear him down in front of his colleagues but if he was going to behave like a child, she would have to reprimand him like one.
"You poisonous bitch!" The voice cut through the air, invoking the eyes of everyone present to the situation.
Margaret sighed out loud this time and slowly turned to greet the stubborn mule of a man.
"You can't fire me! You don't think I see what you're doing here? Sabotaging me on this Oprah thing so that you can look good to the board? You're threatened by me, aren't you? You monster." He continued his rant and Margaret let him. She brushed off the comment of her being a monster; she had heard worse passing by the staff room.
"Just because you have no semblance of a life outside of this office, you think that you can treat all of us like your own personal slaves."
"Bob, stop." She interrupted, pressing the palms of her hands to her temples and rubbing gently. She really shouldn't have gone to bed at 4am. 2 hours of sleep wasn't enough to run her day on it would seemed. 'It's too early for,' she thought sourly.
"You know what? I feel sorry for you. Because you know what you're gonna have on your deathbed? Nothing and no one!"
Now that hurt. She wouldn't let it show, no she wouldn't let this man have the victory of knowing his words got it her, but it still hurt. How similar had those words been to ones she thought to herself at night. She blamed her lack of sleep for the sudden wave of emotions that assaulted her but she wrinkled her nose and swallowed her tears.
She could pity herself later.
"Listen carefully, Bob. I didn't fire you because I feel threatened. No. I fired you because you're lazy, entitled, and incompetent. You spend more time cheating on your wife than you do in your office." She hissed out, walking forwards. Her words fuelled off of the bitter anger she felt swirling in the pit of her stomach. "And if you say another word, Andrew here is gonna have you thrown out, okay? Another word and you're going out of here with an armed escort. Andrew will film it on his phone and put it on that site. What's it called?" She snapped her fingers, unable to think clearly.
"Youtube?" The man offered meekly and Margaret nodded. Geez, she was losing it if she couldn't remember youtube.
"Exactly. Is that what you want? Didn't think so. I have work to do." With that she turned on her heel and headed back to her office. Needing a distraction and having quit smoking ages ago, she was glad to hear footsteps following after her. For a moment, she even pretended that they were following out of concern rather than obligation.
A sick smile twisted across her lips at that thought.
"Have security take his breakfront and put it in my conference room" She ordered, as she slid into her office chair and began scribbling down several notices. She didn't care much for the furniture but the man deserved nothing less than having it taken away from him. Adultery was a sin after all in most religions and in a way this was a lighter sentence than whatever the man would receive in the afterlife.
Of course, she was also taking it because of what he said to her but she didn't let herself dwell on those matters for long.
"I need you this weekend to review some files and manuscripts." Margaret instructed, whirling around in her chair and opening the bottom compartment of the dresser behind her.
"Uh..This weekend?" The man asked and she sighed once more before straightening herself up, raising an eyebrow in question. Usually he complied with her instructions without too many questions. Crossing her hands together on the desk in front of her and maintaining eye contact with him, she gave him her undivided attention for once.
"Why? Is that a problem?" She asked in a tone that would make him carefully consider his priorities. With letting Bob go, she was going to need an extra pair of hands this weekend and she'd be dammed if he passed up his duties for another stag night. Last time she wasn't certain what she had been thinking in allowing him to have the day off but it was a mistake on her part.
There were few in this company that she could trust to do a job almost as decent as she could and Andrew Paxton was one of them.
She watched the man fidget as she waited patiently for his answer.
"No. I-Its just my grandmother's 90th birthday. I was gonna go home but…It's fine. I'll cancel it. You're saving me from a weekend of misery anyways, so it's…" She effectively tuned out of his mumbling then, turning back to her work.
When she lifted her head several minutes later, she noticed she was alone and allowed herself a moment to relax. Rolling her shoulders, she rested her head back and stared at the bland ceiling above her.
'You poisonous bitch… You know what you're gonna have on your deathbed? Nothing and no one…'
She let out a shaky breath and composed herself all too quickly, running her hands down over her face. She suddenly had to use the restroom.
Reviews are motivation!