Miss Jackson {b.u.}

{12}

I shoved my cigarette pack into my purse. The bedroom door opened. I wasn't ready to have a conversation with Brendon. He just made me a vulnerable target for Keaton. It felt like I had just realized that my trust had been betrayed, the feeling of uneasiness and pain lingered in my chest. I rolled my eyes and grabbed an empty water bottle from the dishwasher and washed it out, making sure it was clean. I heard Brendon's footsteps stop, "we can talk now?"

I shook the excess water in the sink, turning to look at him, "is that what you want?"

Brendon scoffed, "we need to."

I tossed the water bottle in the sink, "you wanna talk about it?! Do you know the fucking fear I live in?! The fear I live in every single day—thinking that this piece of shit is going to show up anywhere I could be! Fearing that I could be murdered. So, you wanna talk to me—to me about a huge issue that you created?!"

Brendon's body released all of the tension and I could see the instant regret in his face. I grabbed the water bottle from the sink, screwing the cap on aggressively. I shoved it in my purse and walked toward the door, "honey, wait."

"I'll see you at work."  I slammed the door and walked to my car.

**

I sat in the meeting room with management and Brendon. Files slid across the table. I flung them open—looking at the detailed designs handed to me, "what d'you think, Miss Jackson?" Mchale asked, putting his hands in his black pants pockets.

I stared at it in such amazement. It was artistically created and articulately put together and designed. I closed the file and stood up, "I'm sorry, sir, but I don't think i'm capable of that."

"Did you just tell me, your boss, that you're not capable of doing that?"

I looked at Brendon. Though, I was mad at him, I needed someone to have my back. I pleaded at him, begging him to help me. I turned my head back to Mchale and pressed my hands against the edge of the table, "yea, I did."

"If you take that back—I won't fire you."

I pleaded my eyes at Brendon and not a single word dribbled out of his mouth. I moved my eyes back to Mchale, "you won't fire me. Wanna know why?"

"Oh, please do enlighten me, Miss Jackson."

"You need my designs. Wouldn't be anywhere without them, right?"

Mchale stiffened up, "watch your tone and get the fuck out of my conference room."

I grabbed the files and walked near him, then stopping, "Oh and I enrolled you into AA meetings for alcohol," I began and pulled his credit card out of my purse, "with your hard earned money."

I walked out of the conference room, feeling confident. I walked down the steps and sped up past everyone to avoid any conversation. I closed my office door behind me, plopping the files onto my desk. I turned as the door opened and closed shut, "i'm not gonna wait all day to talk to you about this at home."

"Not now."

"Joanne."

I slammed my hand in the counter, "first off, you put me in a messy situation and second, you didn't have my fucking back!"

"If I talk back to him, he'll let me go."

"Oh!" I began and rolled my eyes, "as if you can't get a new manager."

"You do know how hard it is to find a manager here, right?"

I scoffed and tossed my head back to look at the ceiling. I shook my head and shoved my hands in my back jean pockets, "this is pointless. We aren't getting anywhere."