Chapter 21 The Ends Justify The Means
‘Who the hell does he think he is?’ I ask myself, grabbing my bag. I avoid looking at the others. I don’t think I can face them.
Did they hear? I really don’t want them to think badly of me. Surely, they can’t think I’d do that to them. That I’d steal their idea…
Talk about assumptions! How could he? I’ve done nothing wrong. Nothing at all to suggest that I’d ever do what he’s suggesting. I’ve worked hard! I’ve worked endlessly in the last few weeks and I haven’t complained once. Not ONCE.
Not when he practically spat out his sandwich on me, just because he apparently doesn’t like gherkins. Who doesn’t like gherkins? I kept quiet every single night when I desperately wanted to go home and sleep but he insisted on staying late. I didn’t say anything that time he made me go to his apartment to pick up clothes because he’d decided to pull an all-nighter.
I’ve done everything he’s asked me to.
I should have quit when I first wrote out my resignation letter!
It’s takes all of my pride to walk out with my head held high. I refuse to get upset. I won’t cry. I won’t shout. I’ll just calmly exit the building channelling my inner Eliza Clancy. If only I could have that much poise.
When I inherit Clancy’s Comforts, at the top of my ‘To Do’ list is fire Noah Grisham. It’s decided. He’ll rue the day he met me! I’ll make damn sure of it.
I consider calling my grandma but I stop myself at the last minute. I don’t want her to be disappointed. I’m flipping suspended! I’ve never so much as been late to work before, let alone suspended. But it’s not just that I don’t want to disappoint her, I don’t want to have to tell her what’s happening under her nose at Clancy’s Comforts.
There’s no way my grandma would know that people are stealing each other’s ideas. She’d be horrified. I can’t be the one to tell her. Hell, it would be better if she never found out.
Hailing down a taxi, I try to formulate a plan. I have to do something. I’ve got to prove to Noah Grisham that I am not a THIEF! Have him beg me to come back and then fire his arse for insubordination.
I’m still raging when I arrive at my apartment. I try to let myself in, my hand shaking as I put the key in the lock. Pushing open the door, I kick my shoes off and hang up my coat before stomping into the living room, slamming the front door behind me.
Flinging myself down on the sofa, I close my eyes and try to calm myself down. I need to think rationally. I should be thinking about how to clear my name and prove my innocence but all I can think of is crazy revenge ideas.
Grinning to myself, I pull out my phone and begin searching for spam mailing lists; the crazier the better. I sign him up to receive emails about life sized lollipops rendered into the shape of your own face, another comprised of cat videos, and my personal favourite, the ‘I Hate My Boss’ newsletter.
That pickaxe has never looked more tempting…
It might seem petty but I hope he gets emailed at least thirty times tomorrow! My need for immediate revenge sort of sated, I try to work out what I’m actually going to do about the situation. Because as satisfying as signing him up for a year’s supply of catnip is, it isn’t going to help me fix the problem.
Problems. Let’s be real, there’s definitely more than one. First, there’s the fact that someone shared Design Team One’s project designs with someone from Design Team Two. But Secondly, there’s the fact that my boss doesn’t trust me.
I’ve never been more disappointed with a colleague or employer. I’m good at my job. Sure, we got off to a bad start but I really thought things had turned around.
There’s only one answer. Only one way to prove my innocence and gain his trust…
I need to find out who actually did it.
Reaching for my phone, I hit one of the numbers I have on speed dial. I might not want to tell my grandma about the crazy shenanigans happening at Clancy’s Comforts, but I can tell Martin, right?
“Miss Clancy, what can I do for you?” he asks on the first ring.
“Are you willing to keep a secret?” I ask.
“Depends who from and to what end,” he replies.
“From everyone,” I tell him, adding as an afterthought, “especially grandma.”
He doesn’t outright refuse but he doesn’t agree either. I’m asking for something he’d normally never agree to. But for the first time ever, I think the ends might justify the means.
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