Resignation

Today's muse: Three Word Wednesday

Today's words: figment, inclined, vulnerable

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Resignation

She thought the others exaggerated, embellished their tales of horror. He couldn’t possibly be that evil. Besides, she was no longer a vulnerable twenty year-old struggling with her first job. She was a strong woman with more than twenty years of experience behind her. She could handle a demanding boss.

Larissa snorted. Oh, how wrong she’d been.

Lucas Fitzgerald was nice at first, praised her often. She felt quite smug that she was better than all the others.

“Stupid twit,” she muttered. “You should have seen through the smoke and mirrors, paid attention to the man behind the curtain.”

Well, she thought, it’s over now. She tilted the bottle of scotch to her lips, took a long pull of courage.

Human Resources brushed her off when she spoke to them. Just a figment of her imagination, they said.

“But he shouts all the time. Surely everyone else has heard him,” she argued.

“No one else has said anything,” they countered.

Larissa tipped the bottle again. Well, they’ll be talking now, she thought. She grinned at the wall behind his desk. Every framed face that grinned back was now modified with permanent black marker. Wild, curling moustaches and enormous devil horns now adorned each dignitary photographed beside the CEO. Some had voluminous breasts. A few had engorged penises. She knew it was childish, but it had felt so damn good scrawling the Sharpie across those smug faces.

She twisted her wrist, checked the time. Mr. Fitgerald was inclined to stop by the office late at night, rifle through her desk.

“Checking up on me. Making sure I’m doing my job.” Larissa spun around in his leather executive chair. “Let’s see what you discover today.”

She toyed with the Christmas gift he gave her last year. Mr. Fitzgerald had called from the airport as he waited for his flight to Barbados.

“I left you something on your desk.” He said it as though he’d left her the keys to a new BMW. “I expect you’ll put it to good use.”

The other assistants had received cheques from their bosses; some with a comma in their figures. But not Larissa. Lucas Fitzgerald found it necessary to give her a practical gift.

A click echoed down the hall as the double oak doors opened and closed. Larissa recognized the brisk militant march of her boss. She was surprised how calm she felt. She thought she would be more nervous terminating her employment.

As the door swung open, Larissa was pleased to see the look of anger on Lucas Fitzgerald’s face, watch it shift from fury to fear. By far, she thought, the best expression was that of shock as she plunged the stainless steel letter opener into his chest over and over like a jack hammer.

Breathless, sweating and more than a little giddy, Larissa, wiped the letter opener on his Armani suit.

“Thank you for the present, sir.” She stood up, adjusted her skirt. “I put it to good use.”