Our Broken Pieces

Part 2 - Chapter 15

Mystic – (Ten Years Later)~

Mean girls sucked.

They were like vicious leeches sucking out everything good in the world, and newsflash: they didn't fade away after high school. Nope. They existed in college and well into adulthood. They were everywhere, and there was no escaping them. From the cashier that looked down her nose at your coupons to socialites that snubbed anyone not wearing designer clothing, them bitches were everywhere, and with starting my first day at Cavanaugh Industries, I was quickly learning that they were here, too.

In droves.

Okay...maybe not in droves. Still, for someone that did her best to stay out of the limelight, one or two were one or two too many in my opinion. I didn't want to have to deal with territorial children, but I also wasn't one to not stand up for myself, so I was hoping the resident mean girls at Cavanaugh Industries would find me boring enough to just let me be. However, I wasn't holding out too much hope. Mean girls couldn't be mean girls if they didn't have victims, and I was fairly certain that I was up to bat, being the new girl and all.

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 because that's what happened when your family and friends betrayed you. However, that betrayal had also made me the strong woman that I was today. Yeah, I might be cold, lonely, and empty, but I was no longer anyone's doormat.

That being said, I'd 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 of it.

For ten years, it had worked for me until Marksman Financial had fallen into a decline, and we'd been 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 that business had taken a backseat to an extravagant partying lifestyle. Stanley Jr. had driven his father's company into the ground, and no one had escaped unscathed from Stanley Jr.'s misdirection.

After looking for a job for two months, I had finally landed a position as one of the many administrative assistants for Cavanaugh Industries. It didn't pay as much as what I'd been 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. Nevertheless, it didn't matter. The pay was still great for an entry level gig, and Chicago wasn't cheap.

Hell, nowhere was cheap.

Still, I liked my life quiet and tidy, and I hadn't been looking forward to having to move or downsize. So, this opportunity had come at the perfect time as my savings had started to quickly dwindle down to nothing. People judged homelessness as if it was a choice, and for some, maybe it was. However, for others, it was just one paycheck short of their house of cards tumbling down all around them.

At any rate, 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, private offices lining the left side of the floor, a breakroom, and two conference rooms lining the right side. I'd 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 that smiled at me and ignored the rest. Eating was more important to me than getting invited to after-work drinks. My bills needed to be paid more than I needed new friends.

When we reached the last cubicle, Sadie turned to me, then gestured towards the chair. "This is you, Mystic," she said, still smiling.

Sadie had met me in the lobby, eight floors down, then 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, and all the keys weren't surprising. My employee badge had been given to me by security when I had signed in because not just anyone could waltz into Cavanaugh Industries.

I cocked my head a bit in confusion. "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. Now, while I didn't think I'd be working around the clock at this level, I could be wrong. I didn't know much about Cavanaugh Industries, other than that they were hiring, and I'd 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, still smiling like she was genuinely happy to meet me.

Anyway, for the next half hour, I followed her as she showed me around the eighth floor. We checked to make sure that 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 then 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 that my H.R. paperwork had gone through, IT had set me up with everything that I'd need. I just needed to create my passwords, and so forth.

Sadie was also kind enough to sit with me through lunch and give me the layout of the nearest restaurants and delis. She had also promised to make me copies of to-go menus that she had stuffed in her desk. The day had felt promising, and while Sadie had introduced me to a few people, the Mean Girls had made themselves known rather unapologetically.

The worst of them was Reagan Contreras, and she 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, so she was definitely one to watch out for or try to avoid altogether.

Good times.