“I’ll check in with his secretary in about thirty minutes.”
“Are you kidding?”
“Absolutely not.”
“That’s fucking ridiculous. It’s going to take two minutes to do what I need to do. I can’t wait all morning. I’m going to be late for work.”
“Miss Vendetta…”
“Ven-E-detta…”
“Venedetta. Sorry. There are certain rules here. Rule number one is, unless Mr. Morgan has an important meeting scheduled in the morning, he is not to be disturbed as soon as he arrives.”
“What exactly will he do if you bother him?”
“I don’t want to find out.”
“Well, I do.” Getting up from my seat, I charged down the hall as the redhead scurried behind me.
“Miss Venedetta. You don’t know what you’re doing. Get back here right now! I’m serious.”
I stopped when I came upon a dark, cherry wood door with the name Graham J. Morgan engraved into a placard upon it. The shades to the glass windows surrounding the door were completely closed.
“Where is his secretary?”
She pointed to an empty desk across from his office. “She normally sits right there, but she doesn’t appear to be in yet. So, that’s even more of a reason why I cannot disturb him right now because he’s probably angry about that.”
She looked over at another female employee who was working in a nearby cubicle. “Do you know why Rebecca isn’t here yet?”
“Rebecca quit. The agency is looking for a replacement.”
“Great,” the receptionist huffed. “And she lasted all of what…two days?”
The woman laughed. “Not bad, considering…”
What the hell kind of a person was this Graham Morgan?
Who did he think he was?
Adrenaline suddenly coursed through me. I walked over to the secretary’s empty desk and pressed the intercom button that was labeled GJM.
“Who the fuck do you think you are…The Wizard of Oz? I’m pretty sure I’d have easier access to Queen Elizabeth.”
The fear in the receptionist’s eyes was palpable, but she knew it was too late, so she just stayed on the sidelines and watched.
There was no response for about a full minute. Then came his deep penetrating voice. “Who is this?”
“My name is Soraya Venedetta.”
“Venedetta.” He’d repeated my name clearly. It wasn’t lost on me that unlike everyone else, he had pronounced my name precisely.
When he didn’t say anything else, I pressed the button again. “I’ve been waiting patiently to see you. But apparently, you’re whacking off in there or something. Everyone here is scared out of their wits of you, so no one wants to tell you I’m here. I have something I imagine you’ve been looking for.”
His voice came on again. “Oh really?”
“Yes. And I’m not going to give it to you unless you open that door.”
“Let me ask you something, Ms. Venedetta.”
“Okay…”
“This thing you claim I’m looking for. Is it the cure for cancer?”
“No.”
“Is it an original Shelby Cobra?”
A what?
“Um…No.”
“Then, you’re wrong. There’s nothing you could possibly have that I’m looking for, that would make opening that door and having to deal with you worth it. Now please leave this floor, or I’ll have security escort you out.”
Eff this. I wasn’t going to deal with this crap anymore. I didn’t want anything to do with him from this point forward, so I decided I would leave his stupid phone. Grabbing my own phone, I got an idea. A parting gift. I snapped three pictures of myself: one of my cleavage with a big middle finger in the middle, one of my legs and one of my rear end. I then programmed my number into his phone, naming myself You’re Welcome Asshole. I specifically chose not to show my face since I didn’t want him to recognize me on the train.
I sent all three pictures and followed them up with one final text.
Your mother should be ashamed of you.
I handed the receptionist the phone and said, “Make sure he gets his phone back.”
I sashayed out of there despite feeling a little defeated and a whole lot irate.
My mood had only worsened by the time I got back to work. The only good thing was that Ida had an unexpected out of office meeting, so I didn’t have to deal with her. I ended up taking advantage and leaving for the day an hour early.
After work, I ventured over to see Tig and his wife, Delia, before heading back to my apartment. He and I had been best friends since we were little, growing up next door together. Tig and Del owned Tig’s Tattoo and Piercing on Eighth Avenue.
I could hear the sound of Tig’s needle buzzing in the corner; he was busy with a customer. Tig handled all things ink and Delia was in charge of piercings. Whenever I was in this kind of unstable mood, I tended to get very impulsive. I’d already decided that tonight at home I was going to dye the ends of my hair red, but that didn’t seem like enough to satisfy me.
“Del, I want you to pierce my tongue.”
“Get outta here.” She waved her hand dismissively. She was well aware of my mood swings.
“I’m serious.”