Pink Slip.
- ONE WEEK TO CHRISTMAS -
Harry set his briefcase down on his polished, blonde-wood desk and shut his door in Mia's face. His secretary was about to ask him something, but he just couldn't stand to look her in the eye or listen to her today. Perhaps it was her smooth, teasing tone. Perhaps it was the gold necklace she wore, plainly visible against the gray of her tight turtleneck sweater. The symbol of his betrayal shone like a beacon against the wool, and he'd stared at it just for a second, an ugly snarl tugging at his lip. And he'd slammed the door.
He turned the lock with a flick of his wrist, feeling defiant and upset.
This past week had been a total nightmare. On Monday morning, right on the heels of Sunday night's Christmas light explosion, Mia had sauntered into the office with her briefcase, poised and ready. This was a big problem, as Harry thought he'd gotten rid of her for good earlier this year. As soon as he'd returned from his trip in January, Mia had made a big deal about how she missed him. He'd responded by transferring her to Surrey. She'd stayed there until late April when they'd sent her back, citing that they'd found a permanent replacement. Harry managed to be polite to her, but the weather was turning, and Mia had begun wearing short skirts and tanks around the office, weaving around him tantalizingly at every opportunity. He'd nearly lost his mind. So he'd spoken to Bob in the Bristol offices and had her transferred there in May.
Harry stared through the door. Mia was sitting down, back to him, arms crossed. But Sarah, his American assistant, was standing up with a worried expression on her face. Shit. She would try to come in, he knew it.
Mia's second transfer had gone through about the time that Sarah's brother had taken a turn for the worse. Harry liked Sarah very much, which was why he found her mentally ill sibling's fierce consumption of her life so vexing. But the tone of her phone conversations had changed, and he'd noticed. He grew worried when she actually began ducking out of the office to talk, instead of ducking her head in her cubicle and speaking in a whisper.
Everything ended at the beginning of June. When that first Monday evening arrived, Mia was safely ensconced in the area outside Bob's office in Bristol. And Harry, just leaving for the night, watched as Sarah received that terrible call on her mobile.
"What?" she said. Her shocked tone stopped him in front of her desk.
It was the doctor. Somehow Sarah's brother had managed to cheek his pills for a week and had taken them all at once, right before his usual late afternoon nap. They'd only discovered he was dead when they were unable to wake him.
Harry put a hand on her shoulder and told her to go home and take the week off. Sarah grabbed him around the waist, buried her face in his shirt, and burst into tears. Harry panicked. Crying women scared the hell out of him; always had. He put one hand gently on Sarah's soft reddish hair and widened his eyes at Karl, the only other man around, imploring him from across the office to get his nubile arse over here and help out. The young man whom Sarah had adored for so long complied in a flash. He slipped in-between Harry and Sarah (Harry never figured out quite how) and gathered Sarah in his arms, where she continued to sob for several minutes before she noticed the shirt under her cheek was different. Harry had stood back, unsure of what to do, but it turned out that they were just fine being alone together, so he'd very quietly walked away.
In the months that followed, Karl had expertly consoled Sarah, little by little helping her out of her hole of devastation, taking her by the hand and gently tugging her back to being her happy, sweet self. He'd also (according to reports) taken Sarah out for expensive dinners, taken Sarah to the opera, and most recently, taken Sarah to meet his parents. It was only after the "parents" remark that Harry really allowed himself to hope for their future happiness.
The knock made him jump. Sarah was waving cheerfully on the other side of the glass door. Oh, bugger it all, she wanted in. Harry hung his head sheepishly and shuffled over to unlock it. She came in and shut the door behind her.
"Um, is everything all right?" she asked.
Harry sighed. No. Nothing was all right. But he had to keep it together and be the stern 'big cheese' around here, or else this damn office would dissolve into chaos. He hitched his hip on his desk and crossed his arms.
"Yes," he said.
"Oh, please," Sarah said. "You stormed in here, greeted nobody, and slammed the door. For Chrissake Harry, what's going on?"
He wanted to tell her. He really did. But that would just unearth things that were better left buried and create more office gossip that he didn't need. He took off his glasses and began to clean them. It was nice to let the world blur for a moment.
"It's Mia, isn't it?" Sarah said softly.
Harry couldn't hide his surprise. Nor could he find the words to contradict her fast enough. She pressed on.
"Sorry. It's just that you were so happy and productive and … relieved … when she was gone. Both times. And ever since she came back last week, you've been an absolute bear. Do you have another explanation?"
Harry finished cleaning his glasses and put them on. His shoulders were tightening. He felt antsy, full of adrenaline, like he needed to get up and move, or just run. Guilt was amazing stuff, he thought. It was almost better than an energy bar.
And Sarah, dear sweet Sarah who was just nervous from his nervousness and trying to make conversation in the face of his silence, unwittingly drove in the final nail. "That's, um, that's a very pretty necklace she's got on."
"I don't know anything about that!" Harry blurted out, sounding as panicked as he felt.
Sarah stared. Then she smiled, a gentle, knowing smile, as though this response had solved a mystery. She came over and stood close. Harry watched as she gently peeled his left hand from its white-knuckled grip on the desk and took it in both of hers. Her red hair was haloed around her face and in the soft light coming in through the window, just for a second he fancied her as some city-dwelling angel who had taken pity on him.
"Harry, you need to know some things. Alice, who works in the Surrey office, told me on the down low that Mia had been caught with some assistant manager doing naughty things on the copy machine. They almost dismissed her, but she weaseled out of it. And word from the Bristol office is that she was carrying on with Bob Gardner. Mrs. Gardner came within an inch of finding out, so he sent her back here."
Harry was surprised. The letters Mia had handed him on both occasions said something about "services no longer required," and finished with the explanation that they had located a permanent replacement. Nothing had even hinted at sordid activities. He couldn't believe Bob had gone so far with her, though. Well, perhaps he could. Bob was a good-looking middle-aged man with a bossy, busybody wife and three screaming children. Anything for a little relief, probably.
"You gave her that necklace, didn't you, Harry?"
Harry nodded in shame. "Mind you, that was the only thing I gave her. Karen found out. We've moved on, but nothing's really been the same." Surprisingly, it felt good to say this.
Sarah sighed. Her hands were very warm. "Harry, I'm going to give you some unsolicited advice. Ready?"
He nodded again.
"Fire her. Give her … what do they call it around here? … 'the old Spanish archer,' that's it. Give her the old Spanish archer." She was squeezing his hand firmly in support.
He laughed a little, mostly at the contrast of Sarah's plain Midwest accent with her newly acquired slang.
"Please just do it. Get her out of here. Her attitude gets on everybody's nerves, she's making you nuts, and quite frankly her work is sloppy. She's never on-time with anything."
Harry looked at her then and realized her advice was on the mark. Why had this solution not been obvious to him before?
"Sloppy work, eh?" he said, thinking fast. "Good. That's good. Thank you, Sarah. Go back out to your desk, please. I'll see you later."
She gave him another gentle smile and then she was on her way, leaving Harry in his office with a way out. He spent the next hour catching up on paperwork and making a few phone calls, but it really was just a way to waste time so that Mia would not suspect that Sarah had anything to do with this.
He opened the top drawer of his desk and pulled out a form, filling it out in his best hand, and then picked up his phone to get his secretary on the line.
"Mia, I need you in my office please."
There was a pause, and Harry watched through the glass wall as Mia swiveled in her desk chair and turned to face him, still on the phone.
"Why?" she asked coyly, adjusting her legs so Harry could not miss the action.
He steeled himself. "Now," he said, and hung up.
Mia gave him a little frown, but came in and closed the door behind her. She faced Harry, who was sitting sedately behind his desk, somehow managing to look stern and forbidding in spite of his arty, modern glasses and tweed coat. A piece of pink paper sat in front of him. He motioned at the hard chair in front of the desk, and she sat down and crossed her legs, hiking her skirt up just a little.
She smiled. "Is everything all right?" she asked, her question a cruel parody of Sarah's.
"It will be soon," he said. "I've come to a decision."
He slid the pink paper across to her, and the color drained from Mia's face as she realized it was a P45. She read it and nudged it back at him with a scoff.
"Sloppy work? You can't be serious. I'm not sloppy."
"You certainly are," Harry said calmly. "I can only imagine what a mess you made on that copy machine in Surrey."
The air was charged, now. Mia crossed her arms and eyed Harry the way a cat eyes a spider, with that kind of look that's torn between eating something and playing with it.
Mia licked her lips. "You can't fire me. I'll tell your wife about the necklace."
"She already knows. And lo and behold, we've survived. No thanks to you." His tone was all business. He nudged the paper at her again. "Sign the form."
She nudged it back, leaning over the desk as she did it so her cleavage looked more impressive. She'd changed her tone; she was wheedling now, rallying desperately. "Look, we can work through this. The offer I made you last year still stands, Harry. Besides … you know I always get what I want." She unconsciously fingered the necklace.
Harry gave Mia a chilly smile. Damn, but this felt good. "Not this time."
She had lost. Maintaining composure for the moment, she finally took the paper and signed it, scooting it back to him across the desk with a dismissive gesture. "Why are you really firing me, Harry?"
"I don't like your handiwork," Harry replied, signing his name on the bottom and not looking at her. The cold way he said handiwork, with that little clip on the "k," told her everything she needed to know.
"You won't replace me," she said, standing up.
"I already have." That was a total lie, but if it rattled her, it was worth it. "You have two hours to clean out your desk. I'd like you gone by lunch."
"And if I'm not gone by lunch?" she challenged.
Harry stood up slowly to face her, and suddenly her friendly boss was gone. Harry the Businessman, the tough, experienced negotiator who had made this little business what it was, was here now.
"I'll call Security and have someone escort you out. You'd best get packing. Good luck, Mia."
He shook her hand then, as though he'd just put a deal through. Mia was ready to explode. She turned on her heel and stalked out, leaving Harry to close the door behind her.
At half past noon, Harry was on the phone with a potential new secretary (male and thankfully heterosexual) named Greg, watching from inside his office as Mia moved out. Harry noted with some amusement that nobody was assisting her. And then she was on her way, blowing out of the office like a gust of wind, purse dangling off one shoulder as she struggled to carry two big cardboard boxes, wobbling a little in her high-heeled boots and looking murderous.
"So you can start tomorrow? Excellent. And the last name is … Jones. Yes, I've got it. I'll have Ellis make you up a badge for tomorrow. It'll be there waiting for you at the front desk when you get here. Yes, I'll see you at 10 o'clock sharp. Right, til then." He rang off and looked at his watch.
Time for lunch. He stood up and stretched. Pleased at how his day was going, Harry walked out of his office, donning his coat as he headed for the doors. He walked by Sarah's desk on his way out.
"Way to go, boss," she said quietly.
He smiled at her warmly, truly happy for the first time in a long time. His face felt just a little too small for his grin. He decided right then to get Karen her Christmas present while he was out.
"I'm heading out to lunch. Do you want something?"
"Thanks, but I brown-bagged it," Sarah said, holding up a little igloo container. "See you in a bit."
He nodded and continued out into the parking lot. He had a parking space near the doors, and he whistled tunelessly as he rooted around in his pockets for his keyless entry remote. His auto, a nondescript blue sedan, was lightly dusted with snow. He idly considered it as he hunted for the little hard bit of plastic, and then suddenly noticed that the roof of the sedan looked a little low.
"What the…?"
He wandered around the car in the vain hope that he was imagining this, but the evidence was incontrovertible. All four tyres had been slashed with considerable energy. The parts that touched the ground were pooling on the concrete. A possible suspect came to mind immediately.
"Oh, of all the childish … shit."
There was no way to get this fixed right now. He needed to get something to eat as well as find Karen's present, and if he spent lunch waiting for a bloody tow truck, he'd miss the opportunity. Christmas was a week away, and with the office going full throttle he really did have a lot to do. He couldn't assume he'd get another chance. Resigned to taking public transport for the rest of the day, he pulled out his mobile and dialed the office.
"Sarah, what's the quickest way to get to the Shopping Centre? … Without a car. … Yes, you heard me right."
With Sarah's directions squawking in his ear, he turned and started walking to the train station.