Of course, at twenty-eight-years-old, I was well past the age where being snubbed would send me running to the women’s restroom to cry myself stupid in an empty stall. These days, I had enough life experience to know that people not liking you was just a sad part of life. Some people clicked and some people didn’t, and that was okay. I also learned that the less people in your life, the less likely you were to get stabbed in the back. Even if I had no more secrets to keep, I still didn’t trust people. That happens when your family and friends betray you. However, that betrayal made me the strong woman I was today. Yeah, I might be cold, lonely, and empty, but I was no longer anyone’s doormat.
I had gotten my degree in business management, but that was as far as my ambitions had gone. I wasn’t willing to sacrifice myself for others anymore, so I didn’t. All I wanted was to earn a wage to support myself and screw the rest.
For ten years, it worked for me until Marksman Financial fell into a decline and we were forced to look for other jobs. Stanley Marksman had led a successful financial powerhouse, but once he retired and his good-for-nothing son had taken over, well, let’s just say business took a backseat to an extravagant partying lifestyle. Stanley Jr. had driven his father’s company into the ground, and no one escaped unscathed from Stanley Jr.’s misdirection.
After looking for a job for two months, I finally landed a position as one of the many administrative assistants for Cavanaugh Industries. It didn’t pay as much as what I was making at Marksman Financial, but at Marksman’s I’d had ten years of seniority and raises, where here I’d be starting near the bottom. I was essentially going to be an assistant’s assistant. It didn’t matter, though. The pay was still great for an entry level gig and Chicago wasn’t cheap.
Hell, nowhere was cheap. However, I liked my life quiet and tidy and I hadn’t been looking forward to having to move or downsize. And so, this opportunity came at the perfect time as my savings had started to quickly dwindle down to nothing. People judge homelessness as if it’s a choice. And for some, maybe it is. For others, it’s just one paycheck short of their house of cards tumbling down all around them.
Donning my most professional business attire, a white short-sleeved button up with a grey pencil skirt, paired with four-inch black heels, I followed Sadie Welsh as she led me to my assigned cubicle. The floor plan was open with partitioned cubicles everywhere and private offices lining the left side of the floor and a breakroom and two conference rooms lining the right side. I had been hoping for a cubicle nearest the conference rooms because it seemed quiet in that area, but Sadie led me to the last cubicle nearest the private offices.
I didn’t like it, but I was hardly going to complain. However, it was as Sadie and I made our way through the aisle that I noticed out of the corner of my eye the side-glances and looks of both smiles and frowns. Seeing as how I hadn’t spoken to anyone other than Sadie, the frowns weren’t warranted.
Again.
Mean Girls.
I smiled back at the people who smiled at me and ignored the rest. Eating was more important than getting invited to afterwork drinks. My bills needed to be paid more than I needed new friends.
When we reached the last cubicle, Sadie turned to me and gestured towards the chair. “This is you, Mystic,” she said smiling. Sadie had met me in the lobby, eight floors down, and had informed me that she’d been assigned to my training. She had appeared friendly and I hadn’t gotten the vibe that she felt like the assignment was beneath her or an inconvenience to her day. Sadie had been truly welcoming, and I was thankful to not have been saddled with a Mean Girl.
I glanced around my work area and it was standard as far as administrative cubicles went. It had a computer, keyboard, phone, desk accessories, etc. I noticed the cubicle also came with a slim built-in closet for personal storage. All in all, it wasn’t bad.
Sadie dangled a ring of keys at me. “These are your set of keys. There’s one for your cubicle closet, one for your desk drawers, one for the supply closet, one for the elevator, one for the women’s restroom on this floor, and one for the front office building,” she explained. My employee badge had been given to me by security when I had signed in. Apparently, not just anyone could waltz into Cavanaugh Industries.
I cocked my head. “Why would I need a key for the front door or restroom?”
“A lot of the doors lock with automatic timers,” she replied. “However, a lot of us work around the clock during budgets or deadlines, so we need access to the restrooms and building during off hours.”
I nodded in understanding. I didn’t think I’d be working around the clock at this level, but I could be wrong. I didn’t know much about Cavanaugh Industries, other than they were hiring and I needed to be hired.
“Follow me and I’ll show you where everything else is located, including my cubicle, in case you need to find me for anything,” she said, again, smiling like she was genuinely happy to meet me.
I followed her for the next half hour as she showed me around the eighth floor. We checked to make sure all my keys worked, and then she took me up the elevator to the twenty-first floor, where the CEO and owner of Cavanaugh Industries was located, and she worked her way down each floor explaining who lived where and what they did.
Once we got back to our floor, she stayed with me as we powered up my computer and she helped me create user profiles for whatever I needed. She had informed me that our IT department was the best, and the second my H.R. paperwork had gone through, IT had set me up with everything I’d need. I just needed to create my passwords, and so forth.
Sadie was kind enough to sit with me through lunch and give me the layout of the nearest restaurants and delis. She also had promised to make me copies of to-go menus she had stuffed in her desk. The day had been promising, and while Sadie introduced me to a few people, the Mean Girls had made themselves known rather unapologetically.
The worst of them was Reagan Contreras, who just happened to occupy the private office directly across from my workstation. She had been polite enough to acknowledge the introduction, but the snotty look in her eyes had been very apparent.
She was the one to watch out for or try to avoid altogether.
Good times.
Chapter 16
Gage~
Looking out at the city of Chicago, I could see the clouds rolling in and it felt ominous, like a premonition. The sky was dark, and I couldn’t help but feel a kinship with the darkness that was ready to blanket the city with depression instead of sunny, happy thoughts.
I loved the dark.
I loved the cold.
I loved the clouds, the rain, the lightening, and thunder. I especially loved it when it hailed. I liked the idea of nature throwing down lotteries of possible damage. I wanted the world to be dark because then, that way, I could live my life without faking bullshit pleasantries. Don’t get me wrong. I didn’t give a fuck what people thought of me, but even I knew it wasn’t financially beneficial to be a complete dick to everyone all the time.
I turned away from the window to face my desk and I knew I’d be working this weekend. But that wasn’t anything new. I worked around the clock regularly, and the non-stop grind had paid off and continued to pay off. Stymic Financial Holdings had its fingers in just about damn near everything and I had no plans on letting up anytime soon.
