Total pages in book: 57
Estimated words: 53894 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 53894 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 269(@200wpm)___ 216(@250wpm)___ 180(@300wpm)
I turn my attention to the weaselly man and nearly recoil. His face is inches from mine, and his breath smells like rotten sardines.
“My office. Five minutes. Bring the brief,” he hisses, and from the flash of fire in his otherwise lifeless eyes, I can tell that I’m screwed. Jensen retreats to his office and as soon as he’s out of earshot, I let out a heavy sigh.
I wish I could flee the building but instead, I frantically search for the document my boss was referring to. Correct folder in hand, I sit in my chair for another moment, bracing myself for what’s bound to be an irrational tirade from my boss. Unfortunately, Jensen isn’t the kind of supervisor who reprimands productively. No, he berates, he yells, and he blames. I haven’t been a target myself, but I’ve watched countless colleagues suffer his wrath. People leave his office in tears often, and that includes my male colleagues.
Crap, I look down at my watch. How did three minutes already pass?
Quickly, I make my way through the maze of cubicles until I’m standing just beyond the hallway that leads to the partners’ offices. Inhaling and exhaling deeply, I turn the corner and walk to the executive assistant’s desk with fake confidence, hoping I seem composed.
“Mr. Draper wanted to see me?” My voice quivers a little and the assistant looks up at me with pity. She’s an older woman, with streaks of gray in her thin, auburn hair.
“Go ahead. Just knock first.” Her voice is kind, which makes it even harder to enter my boss’s office.
I give the assistant a weak smile then cross the short distance to Mr. Draper’s office. I give the large door a timid knock.
“Come,” I hear a voice say from the other side. I push open the heavy door and enter my boss’s office.
Immediately, I feel sick to my stomach. The room is hot and stuffy, but breathing deeply is out of the question because the entire office reeks of his rancid cologne. The windows and their shades are closed, and the only light in the office is from the garish overhead fluorescents.
Every piece of furniture in my boss’s office screams misguided opulence. The desk is too large for Jensen’s small frame, and sitting behind it, he looks like a kid who sneaked into his parent’s office without permission. The chair is equally absurd, a size too tall, made of fake leather, and uncomfortable looking. I don’t look, but I bet money that Jensen’s feet aren’t able to touch the ground.
“Close the door and then sit down.” His tone is smarmy and aggressive at once, making me squeamish.
I follow his directions as quickly as possible. But now, sitting across from the angry man, I can’t help but start shaking in my seat. I try to mask my nerves by shifting around in the chair but my boss snaps.
“Stop. Pay attention.” I freeze, feeling my eyes go wide. “Give me the brief,” he gestures toward the folder I’m clutching between my sweaty hands.
“Sure, yes sir.” I lean forward to hand my boss the brief, nearly recoiling when our fingers brush mid-exchange. Why are his hands so clammy?
Aside from his unfortunate appearance and his well-known courtroom cruelty (that’s often brought back to the office), I can’t quite pinpoint what it is about Jensen Draper that puts me so on edge. I’ve heard stories from other junior lawyers about his lack of professionalism or even his overt flirting with them, but I have yet to experience these things firsthand. Then again, I have always done my best to avoid being alone with him, especially behind closed doors.
Except for now. My gaze drifts wistfully toward the closed office door. I glance back at Jensen. He is licking his fingers between turning the document pages; the wet sound makes me cringe.
I know my punishment is coming any minute but all I can do is sit in the uncomfortable chair and wait.
Finally, after what feels like an eternity, my boss looks at me, his beady eyes flitting from my face down the length of my body. I want to flinch, but I hold my ground.
“You screwed up, Michelle.” As Jensen speaks, I’m distracted by something green stuck between his yellowing teeth. I look down at my hands.
“I’m sorry.”
“Sorry?” Jensen laughs long and hard, an obnoxious sound in the stifling room.
Oh no, here it comes. I wait, unsure what else to say. Don’t say too much, just let him have his moment.
“You’re sorry?” Jensen sneers again, spittle flying from his mouth. I stare at the small puddle of saliva on his desk, bracing myself. “That’s right Michelle, you are sorry. A sorry excuse for a lawyer. Hell, I wouldn’t even hire you as an intern.”
I wince. It couldn’t have been that big of a mistake, I think, wracking my brain for why Draper could be so mad.