Still, she didn’t respond, so Trent tried another method. “Mrs. Shell…” He purposely mispronounced her name, which had always gotten a big response in the past. “If you come out now, without further pissing off this fine officer, you will have the opportunity to resign rather than go to jail. But you have to do it now, Mrs. Shell.”
The door burst open and the old woman stormed out. “I am not a Mrs. and my name is Schnell, not Shell. I have worked for you and your damn father before you all my life. You’d think even a moron could remember my name!”
“So am I arresting her?” the cop asked as he pulled out his handcuffs.
“It’s up to you, Miss Schnell. And just for the record, I know your name. Carrie brought it to my attention a year and a half ago that I had it wrong. I only called you that today so you would come out and decide whether you wished to be arrested for theft and fired, or save me some paper work and resign.”
Her eyes narrowed behind her red cat glasses giving her a frightening glare. She studied Trent, evidently trying to figure out if he really meant to have her arrested.
Trent snorted. “You think I’m bluffing? You’ve probably stolen about a hundred thousand from me. Do you really think under any circumstances I’d let you continue working here or give you a package to leave? Seriously? I dislike paperwork, but if you don’t resign right now, I’ll hire someone to do all the paperwork and ensure you don’t get a dime. And yes, I will have to take a day off to testify against you when your day of court arrives, but it will give me great pleasure to ensure you have a criminal record so no one will ever hire you again.”
Carrie burst into the hall. “The boy is gone along with my chair!”
The old woman cackled. “Then you got nothing to hang on me.”
“I put the chair back in your office,” Trent called out to Carrie.
“And I got the boy’s statement before I sent him home,” the cop added.
Her look of triumph melted and seconds later, she burst into tears. “Why are you so awful to me? I’m just an old woman trying to survive on the pittance of a salary you pay. And you, with your limo and your servants, begrudge me if I sell the stuff we don’t need so I can buy food.”
Trent sighed and looked at the cop. “It’s not pulling my heartstrings, what about yours?”
“Worse violin playing I’ve ever heard.”
The old woman cut the tears and gave Trent a sullen glare. “Then I resign.”
She tried to walk off, but the cop grabbed her arm. “Hold on. He’ll want your resignation in writing, because a thief’s word ain’t worth shit.”
After Miss Schnell typed and signed her resignation, she once again tried to leave, but Carrie objected. “This isn’t her normal signature and she spelled her name Shell.
The cop lost his temper and grabbed her hands behind her back.
“I’ll do it right this time. I promise,” the old woman hissed.
Finally, with signature and spelling correct, the policeman escorted Miss Schnell from the room. The moment the door closed behind her, the entire finance department burst out in cheers and high fives, singing, “Ding Dong! The witch is dead.”
Carrie smiled up at Trent. “Maybe we can salvage more of the staff than we thought.”
Chapter 10
“Everyone, pay attention,” Trent bellowed.
The celebratory finance department froze and then slunk back to their desks in their normal desolate mood. While they never did much work, Carrie guessed productivity would drop to zero today.
“Perhaps we should have a meeting in the conference room with all the floors in attendance,” Carrie whispered.
“I want everyone in the conference room in five—”
“Fifteen,” Carrie suggested.
“In fifteen minutes.” He pointed to a young woman. “You.”
The woman’s eyes rounded in fear.
“Make sure all the other floors know to come.”
Carrie pointed to his office, grabbed her laptop, and followed him in. She sat on his couch, typing, as she spoke. “You need to tell them taking excess supplies for any reason is no longer acceptable.”
“I never thought it acceptable,” he said as he sat at his desk.
“Yes, but you didn’t fire anyone before today.”
He arched his eyebrow and smirked. “Technically, I didn’t fire the old bat, either. Had I done so, she'd sue me for age and disability discrimination.”
“Well, let’s review what you’re going to say.”
He waved her off. “I know how to put the fear of God into people.”
She couldn’t argue with that. “True, but is terror our best strategy?”
“Seems a sound one to me. Maybe some of the others will quit and save us the trouble and cost of firing them.”
Two steps forward, one step back is still progress. “But if you terrorize everyone, we run the risk of losing the ones we want to keep.”
“Are we talking about Jack again?” His eyes darkened dangerously. “Do you have something going on with him?”
“No!” Why did he keep focusing on Jack? And when did she have time to have something going on with anyone? She spent all her time with her crazy boss.
“What about my driver?”
Trent had a habit of jumping topics and normally she could keep up with him, but he’d just lost her. “What about him?”
“Do you have a thing for him?”
She laughed. Now he was just being silly. “No.”
He relaxed. “Just checking. Neither of those guys is good enough for you.”
She appreciated his odd compliment, but she needed to keep Trent on topic. Sending off her All Employees email notifying them of the meeting, she sat back. “Can we return to the topic at hand?”
“No, because you’re too busy writing emails. And who are you writing to?” He stormed over and sat beside her, glaring at her email she’d just sent, which showed the first name on the employee list. “Who is Thomas Thomas?”
“An employee.” His proximity woke the butterflies in her stomach.
“Since when?”
She grinned. “Possibly the beginning of time.”
He frowned then laughed. “Oh! Tom. His last name is Thomas? What kind of moron names his kid Thomas Thomas?”
She shrugged.
“Why are you writing him? I doubt he even knows email exists.”
Since Tom couldn’t identify modern phones, she’d bet money on it. “I don’t think we have to worry about Tom stealing supplies. He’s from an era when employees wouldn’t consider such a thing.”
Trent sighed heavily. “It’s a shame that era is no longer productive.”
“Yeah, the centenarians tend to sleep a lot,” she muttered.
He ruffled her hair. “Heard you. Do you really think it’s wise to mutter smart-ass responses, right now? I’m near the brink, you know.”
She smiled, despite his warning. “Actually, I neared the brink today. I suspect you wouldn’t have cared in the least if the vendor sold my purple chair.”
He leaned back. “Wouldn’t have shed a single tear. Any chance you’ll take the ugly creature home and let me buy you an identical chair in black?”
She shook her head. “My home office walls are green.”
He shuddered. “No wonder you took the first job you could find.” His right arm rested on the back of the couch, as he lightly pulled on a strand of her hair.
It tickled her scalp and sent chills of pleasure down her spine. Wishing to keep matters professional at work, she gathered her hair so it fell over her right breast out of his reach.
“Can we get— Shoot. It’s time to go.” She stood up.
Trent remained seated, staring at her with a sulky pout.
God! What a spoiled child! She held out her hand to him. “You can pull my hair later, but right now we need to go. And please consider your words, or you’ll scare away all the good ones we plan to keep.”
He rose an
d locked eyes with her as he approached, towering over her. “The only good employee I have is you.” He emphasized ‘you’ by tugging her hair. In doing so, his fingers grazed her right breast. The nipple hardened with so much excitement it woke up the left one, as well.
She rushed to the outer office and pulled on her jacket, regretting she hadn't the time to change into her slacks and knit top.
“I hope you’re planning to change into your blue heels, as well,” Trent said.
She sighed, wishing for a normal guy who never noticed what a woman wore. Unlocking a cabinet, she retrieved her blue flats and placed her brown ones into the cabinet before locking it up.
“Where are the shoes you bought today?”
“In your car, I suppose.”
“Aren’t you afraid Sam is going to steal them? He probably has a fetish or two.”
Honestly, she didn’t care if she ever saw those shoes again. Walking on spikes would be less painful.
“Let’s go! We are five minutes late,” Trent chided as he glared at her low heel comfortable blue shoes.
When they arrived, only five people sat in the room.
“Where is everyone?” Trent demanded of the young woman he'd made responsible for getting everyone here.
She swallowed hard, her eyes round as saucers. “Most went out for snacks and something to drink. They promised to be back on time.”
He glared at Carrie. “Want to go downstairs and get your shoes? You have time.”
“No, thank you.”
His annoyance came out loud-and-clear with the heavy breath of air escaping his chest. The young woman must have thought his discontent was aimed at her since, a second later, she scurried from the room.
“Maybe we should do this by email?” he suggested.
That would allow her to censor his words. She smiled. “Excellent idea. Let’s go and compose it now. And you can include a lecture about promptness if you wish.”
He stared at her in surprise. “But what about Tom? He doesn’t read emails.”
She approached the tiny old man in the corner. “How are you feeling today, Tom?” she yelled.
The man didn’t move. “He doesn’t hear either,” she whispered.
“Okay, let’s go!” Trent looked at the three people actually awake. One worked diligently on something.
The young man didn’t pay him the least bit of attention until the guy beside him stopped playing a game on his cell phone and nudged him.
The young man looked up, his eyes rounding in worry when he noticed Trent staring at him. With a hint of desperation, he glanced behind him, no doubt hoping for someone who might want to talk to the boss.
“Name?” Trent snapped.
The young man pulled something from his ear. “Sorry, sir. Did you ask me a question?”
Trent shook his head. “I intended to compliment you on your work ethics, but I won’t since you planned to wear ear plugs through this meeting.”
“This has to be done before I leave today. I would have removed the ear plugs to hear your lecture.”
“Then, you’re excused.” He'd barely finished stating ‘excused’ before the fellow had disappeared from the room. Trent looked to Carrie. “Find out the boy’s name and give him a raise.”
The mouths of the other two guys in the room dropped in outrage.
“I’m canceling the meeting, so the rest of you can go back to work, if you ever actually do anything,” he said and stormed from the room.
Carrie had no doubt she’d have to censor out most of his email lecture in his current state.
She knew the young man’s name but, to date, she hadn’t seen any great work ethics from Chris Culpepper.
“Carrie.”
She turned to see Jeff, another guy from finance, storming toward her. “Are you really giving Chris a raise?”
“That depends on what he so diligently worked on.”
Jeff snorted. “Try his homework.”
“He’s in school?”
“Yeah, full time.”
That didn’t sound good. “But he works here full time.”
Jeff rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Just understand, if you give him a raise, you better give me a double raise because at least I actually do work for the company.”
Given how little Jeff worked, his current pride over his superior work ethics put Chris on shaky productivity grounds. She decided to approach Chris from the backside of his cubicle, trusting his earplugs would keep her presence a secret.
Gotta love earplugs.
Chris Culpepper proved himself a dedicated, hardworking student. Turning to leave, she crashed into a familiar hard chest.
Trent’s arms went around her to steady her, even though his eyes remained glued on Chris’s computer monitor. “Any chance our chairs have a virus this dedicated employee might be trying to cure?”
“It’ll take him awhile. He’s currently studying a general biology text. If he’s very dedicated, he might have a cure for your imaginary virus in four years. However, I expect he’ll quit and take a real job by then.”
“What is he supposed to be doing?”
“I’ve no idea. But he’s part of the finance department.”
“How can you tell?”
“Location of his cubicle and the Accounting 101 book.”
“We give our finance staff a primer on accounting?”
“Probably should. However, I based my presumption on the fact that accounting is not a required course, thus it must be his major. He’s clearly decided he doesn’t want to work here long term, but I suspect he does plan to work in finance. This job fills his resume with relevant experience and enables him to go to school full time while getting a paycheck.” She sighed. “I almost envy him.”
“Don’t,” Trent growled.
“Guess he’s not getting a raise?” she teased.
“Depends—if I literally kick him out of the building, he might incur a temporary raise.”
She gripped his arm. “Perhaps we should go to your office, call Dan Marshal, and ask his advice.”
“I don’t need his advice.”
“Well, he is a manager of people, and he’s agreed to help us with our problem.” She then smiled. “And I’m pretty sure our phone call will put a fire under him to find us an HR person.”
Trent laughed and rubbed her back. She tried to ignore her annoying nipples as they woke up again. Poor things seemed desperate for attention. For good reason. She hadn’t had sex since she left college and came to work here.
A clock on Chris’s desk flashed off and on. “Shit!” he yelped. Saving his work, he shut down the computer, opened a cabinet, and switched out textbooks. However, when he turned to run out of the cube a large, pissed off boss blocked his exit.
She’d never seen a person go white before. For a moment he looked like a mannequin—one going to a house-of-horrors.
Trent could really bring the terror out in his employees’ eyes.
Chris removed his earplugs and opened his mouth, but Trent held up his hand, palm out.
“Not a word. Sit down and do the work you’re paid to do.”
Chris sat and looked at Carrie with desperate eyes. “I have a biology test. If I don’t take it, I’ll get an F and lose my scholarship.”
Having been in the test or die situation only two years ago, his plea resonated with her. “When is the test over?”
Perspiration beaded his forehead. “Three.”
“Will you stay and work late tonight to make up those two hours?”
Chris nodded as he glanced at the clock, his panic increasing.
“Then go.”
Before Trent could object, the boy had disappeared. So he yelled at her instead. “Don’t countermand my orders!”
She gripped his arm. “Don’t yell at me in front of the employees,” she growled and led him to his office. After she closed the door, she turned and faced him. “You can yell at me now.”
His eyes rounded and he towered ov
er her. “I can yell anytime and anywhere I want. I’m the boss, or have you forgotten that?” He glared at her. “You have! Don’t you dare think I can’t fire you, because I can and will!”
She wished she could just block out his hateful rant and think of something nice, like Tall and Tiny’s show when they’d kept insisting the fat clown was her boss.
She didn’t think him a clown now. More like a petulant child.
“And why are your shoes stored in my file cabinets? They’re for my client files. Sarbanes & Oxley does not require the secure preservation of your shoes!”
He stormed to the cabinet and tried to rip the locked drawer open. “God damn it!” he screamed as he shook his hand out.
She tried to assess whether he'd really hurt himself. Normally, he would hold still, even in the worst of fits, and let her check his injury, but not today. “Get the fuck away from me!”
She jumped back, hitting her desk, sending her pencils and pens flying to the floor. She stared at him in shock. Even in the first year, he’d never cursed her with such intensity.
“I said get out!”
“But I have work—”
“No, you don’t. Just leave.”
Had he just fired her? Blinking, trying to stave off unwanted tears, she slowly edged around the desk, opened the desk drawer and retrieved her purse. “We’ll talk when you aren’t so angry,” she said, refusing to accept she’d lost her job over this.
“When hell freezes over. Now leave!”
Unable to bear any more of his fury, she ran to the door and bee-lined to the elevator. Once inside, she burst into heaving sobs. What the hell just happened?
Never had Trent become so angry before. His words didn’t just echo his hateful father. This time he meant them.
When the elevator door opened to the lobby, people rushed in before she could push out. She tried to fight her way through, but the doors closed before she could get around the lard ass in front of her. Her anger focused on their sorry staff returning from their concession break. They were without doubt the worst employees in the world.
A voice in her head reminded her of the ugly change in her life. It’s not your staff. It’s Trent’s. You might not even work here anymore.
Worst Week Ever (A Long Road to Love) Page 12