My Peculiar Man

Part six

"Are you going to stand outside all day, girl? Get in here."

Okay. I had no doubts now. She definitely hated me. 

I walked tentatively into the lavishly furnished office of the head of the Marketing Team, who was also supposed to be my manager. 

The room had more of a living-room feel than an office. It was done all in different shades of red, the drapes, the tablecloths, while the pieces of furniture were a darker shade of red. Even the flowers on the vases were red roses and chrysanthemums. 

I inhaled the flowery scent floating around the room as I walked in, suddenly feeling very uneasy. 

I had no idea why Mrs Gianna Green disliked me. I had hardly spoken a word but I could tell she didn't want me here.

 I wasn't used to older people disliking me. My parents loved me.  All my teachers adored me. So I was feeling extremely awkward, like the feeling you get when you know your hair isn't done right but you have to go out anyway.

She was surveying me as I walked in, like a hawk waiting to pounce on its prey.

"Sit down."

For someone who had been desperately wanting to sit down for so long, I didn't feel much relief at finally being told to do so.

"Thank you so much, Mrs Green," I smiled graciously, hoping to win her over, but the unmoving look on her face made me falter.

That was a bad sign. People generally couldn't resist my smile.

I gingerly sat down on the maroon chair across from her.

 My heart was giving nervous little flutters. I was scared.

Without any preamble, she started.

"Before you get any ideas into your head, I want to clear this up," her clipped, cold voice could probably turn water to ice. "Don't expect to get a certification of experience without doing any work. I am sure you're used to getting your way, but that's not how it works here. I'll decide if I am satisfied with your work at the end of the eight-week period. If your work is unsatisfactory, your certificate will say so too."

I gulped. Even though I was perfectly confident that I was going to do well, this woman made me doubt myself. It was like she was telling me however well I did, she was not going to like it.

"I will try my best ma'am. I love all of Dalitino's products. Dalitino has always been my dream since I was a little kid. I am really very grateful for this opportunity."

Her eyebrows flew high up. Her nostrils flared. 

I had obviously said something very wrong.

"Are you, now? Because you and your father seem to think can just get your way with anything just because he's the mayor. You're not going to last if you act entitled around here. You might have dealings under the table with other corporate firms, but we here at Dalitino do not value the position or wealth of a person. We value hard work and dedication. We give respect only where it's due."

I stared dumbfounded at this old hag sitting in front of me.

Did she just insinuate that my father had illegal dealings with corporates? 

 I wanted to punch her perfectly made-up face.

I generally respected people in positions of authority.

 I tried to channel all the respect I had for someone who was the chief of Marketing in Dalitino but I just couldn't control myself. She knew nothing about me or my father. How dare she make such statements?!

"With all due respect, Mrs Green, how dare you?! Are you saying my Dad is venal? You don't know anything about him! How can you even accuse him of something like that?!"

Mrs Green's eyes flashed at my outburst. Her face remained impassive.

"You only know what you see, girl."

"I have a name, ma'am. It's Elizabeth. And I know my Dad very well. So do the citizens of Charleston. He's a perfectly honourable man. He would never do anything remotely unhonourable. So why don't you take your stupid opinions someplace where someone gives a damn?"

I was fuming. 

Okay. I could not believe I just said that. I was throwing away Dalitino down the drain. I knew it was my lifelong dream to work here, but I was never going to be able to work under a bitter old woman who called my Dad names. Maybe I could ask for a change of a manager?

Mrs Green sat perfectly still, but her eyes were burning with cold fury. 

"If your Dad is so holy," she spat, "why did he try to get you in here with his contacts? Why not make you submit your resume like everyone else? How dare he treat Dalitino like one of his political stooges?"

I gaped, genuinely at a loss for words.

I had absolutely nothing to say to that.

The truth was, I had never questioned all the favours I got because of Dad. It was like it has always been there. Like a birthright. 

Dad had always gotten things done for me. He would do it obviously because he was my father. Wasn't it supposed to be like that? 

"He did it only for me," I said, hating how my voice trembled. "He does such things for me because I am his child. What's so wrong with that?  He never does anything wrong. But he has always done things for me."

"I am sure he does, including all sort of things the citizens of Charleston would probably love to find out."

That's when I started crying. 

Like full-blown loud hysterical wailing. I couldn't stop myself. I was so angry.

 Nobody had ever said such things about my father. He had a perfect track record. Even the tabloids had nothing malicious to say against him. 

And I loved him so much, it tore at my heart to hear such things about him. I couldn't believe someone could be so mean.

I couldn't see the evil witch's reaction because I was crying noisily into my napkin.

 She didn't say a word.

I was so busy crying angrily that I didn't hear the door open behind me. A few footsteps. Then it paused. Probably trying to figure out why a seventeen-year-old girl was bawling her eyes out, that too on top of her lungs, in the Marketing Head's office.

I tried to stop crying at once, mortified that someone else was seeing me cry. I didn't think much about this old crone but I didn't want anyone else to see me cry. 

 I wondered who it was.

 Sarah? Or God forbid, Ethan? Oh, god. That was going to be so embarrassing.

I dabbed at my eyes and face, hoping my makeup wasn't completely ruined. 

Ethan was going to think I wasn't beautiful anymore if he saw me like this. 

The footsteps started again. 

I realized with relief it was the sound of clicking heels. 

So it wasn't Ethan, because last I saw him he wasn't wearing heels.

I tensed up reflexively. 

Who was it then?