WORKLOAD

Loretta

“I don’t see any reason why you should add other people’s job description to yours,” Martha said with that mocking tone of hers, her eyes narrowing at me as I walked behind her desk. I walked past her, balancing a small tray with Mr. Owell’s coffee on it.

I didn’t bother responding. What was the point, dumb Martha always had something to say, always itching for an opportunity to put me down. She actually thought I enjoyed doing part of her job, like carrying coffee to the boss, as if I didn’t already have a desk full of my own tasks to keep me drowning until late evenings.

In truth, I hated walking into Mr Owell’s office, stepping toward his door makes my skin crawl, he makes feel feel uncomfortable, the way his eyes follows me around in the office, the deliberate touches he pretends to be accidents, more than once I have caught him staring at my boobs or ass, and him deliberately assigning Martha’s job to me. And dumb Martha liked to act as if I was trying to get close to the boss, painting me as some desperate girl looking for attention. She’d whisper to coworkers or make little comments in meetings, trying to stir suspicion. She was shameless like that, small-minded and bitter.

I kept quiet, ignored her jab, and went straight to deliver the coffee before it got cold.

I knocked twice on Mr. Owell’s door and waited for that deep voice of his to call out, “Come in.”

When I stepped inside, George Owell, owner of this company was sat behind his massive mahogany desk like a king, he leaned his back against his chair, his shirt was half buttoned, exposing chiseled abs and a spread of tattoos across his chest.

Mr. Owell was undeniably handsome, that was the first thing anyone noticed about him, tall, broad shoulders, a body sculpted like he had been carved from steel, and those piercing blue eyes that you could get lost in if you stared too long. He knew exactly what he looked like, knew the effect he had on women, and he fed on it. He feels like no woman can resist his creepy charm.

I walked forward, keeping my gaze fixed on the desk as I placed the cup in front of him, but before I could pull my hand back, his deliberately brushed his fingers against mine.

“Is there anything else you’d like me to do for you, sir?”I asked, keep my tone very professional, I don’t want him to get funny ideas in his head.

“Well,” he said, taking a slow sip of his coffee while his eyes, not surprisingly lingered on my chest instead of my face, “I’ll need you to schedule another meeting with Mr. Prescott and book dinner for two at my favourite restaurant on Saturday evening.”

He takes another sip of his coffee, “Also, reserve a presidential suite at their hotel for that same night.”

“Right away, sir,” I forced a smile, then turned and walked out, very sure that his eyes stayed glued to my ass until I closed the door behind me.

Back at my desk, I tried to focus on the stack of paperwork waiting for me, my pen scratched across the paper as I started updating the files. Martha appeared at my desk, arms folded, she sat on my desk.

“You know,” she began, tilting her head , “the secretary before you thought she was special too, Mr. Owell asked her to make coffee, just like you, he gave her rides home, took her to dinner with clients so she really thought she mattered to him.”

I didn’t look up, “Martha, I’m busy.” I said, hoping she would leave me alone.

But of course, she continued, “Do you know what happened to her, he slept with her and Oh, she was so cheap, he took her in his office, in the garage, even in the elevator. Everyone knew, then when the new HR was employed and she caught his attention, he dropped her like yesterday’s trash, When she complained, he fired her right in front of all of us. Don’t think you’re any different.”

I finally looked up, laughed softly, and asked, “And you’re telling me this why?”

“To save you from future humiliation,” she said smugly, “and to remind you that men like him are way out of your league.”

I leaned back in my chair, studying her with a smile. “It must be depressing, Martha. All these years working here, doing everything to get Mr. Owell’s attention, but he’s never looked your way. No wonder you’re bitter. Desperation doesn’t look good on you, It’s ageing you faster than time ever could.”

Her mouth opened, then shut again, but I didn’t wait for her comeback, I slid my earbuds in and let the music drown out her nonsense. The truth was, I wasn’t as calm inside as I pretended to be, and I wasn’t here to play games with Mr Owell either. If he ever tried to cross the line with me, I wouldn’t hesitate to kick him wherever it hurt, job or no job. But for now, I had to be smart, I need this paycheck.

Getting my father out of the mess he got himself into is my top priority right now, and I’m sure it would require shit loads of money. My last paycheck had already been stretched thin, half the rent to Tonia, my friend and new flatmate, and the rest to the private investigator she introduced me to, the one who was helping me track down my dad. That PI had drained almost everything I had left, and Tonia had practically begged him to accept a 30% down payment because that was all I could afford.

When the office finally grew quiet and most of the staff had left, I gathered my things, trying not to miss my train. That was when Mr. Owell’s office door swung open. He walked out, “Cancel all my appointments tomorrow, my mother’s coming to town,” he paused, “ about Saturday, you are coming with me.”

He didn’t wait for my response. He strode straight to the elevator, leaving me frozen at my desk. I gripped the edge of my desk, such an arrogant and inconsiderate prick. Somehow, I have this feeling that he has some stupid tricks rolled up his sleeves.