Those Blue Eyes

Chap. 8: Rumors

(Picture of Brooke Adams Above)

When I first got to the office, something seemed off. I could feel it in my gut and I smelled the bullshit quickly. After I clocked in, on time I might add, and went to my desk, I had opened my desk drawer to see a strange note. I picked it up and read the 7 letters carefully and tried to make sense of the word. Who gave me this? Why did somebody leave me a note that has CHEATER in black sharpie? This is so strange and confusing. Did they put it there by mistake? No, that's a stupid question.
             After putting the note away, I tried to do my work but the note still bothered me. Why would someone put that in my desk? Are they calling me a CHEATER? Why? I'm too much a nervous wreck to cheat on anything in my life. That includes: diet, school, work, and/or love. I have never cheated on any of those aspects in my life and this note unsettles my stomach.
                It was around noon when I finally noticed a few things. Every time I would walk by anywhere, people would either snicker or they would whisper to somebody else. I wanted to ask what they were talking about and who had put that note there, but I knew better to.
               Candace stops me before I am able to make it to the bathroom. She slaps her hand on the door before I am able to pull it open. I give her a co fused look.
"Mr. Taylor needs to see you. Now." She says sharply.
Oh no. My heart pounds at the thought if what Mr. Taylor has to say to me. Probably ready to finish me off while Evan is on lunch break.
I motion towards the bathroom. "Now?"
"Now." She walks away hurriedly.
I make my way to Mr. Taylor's office and knock on the door. I hear a muffled "Come in!". When I step in, my chest begins to hurt. Mr. Taylor sits at his office desk waiting on me. Waiting on me. Chills run down my back. Now he is ready to finish me off.
"Take a seat, Miss Adams." Oh shit, I'm definitely done for now.
I take a seat across from him at his desk. Nervously, I push my glasses up from the tip of my nose. Mr. Taylor stares bullets through me, his eyes slanted.
"Miss Adams," Mr. Taylor says "I am not particularly fond of you."
I blink. Okay, well that's a great conversation starter. I have a feeling that this conversation is not going to end very well.
"When my children were little, they would bring home strays they had found wondering around the neighborhood. I hated every single one of those pest." Wow, I'm about to shit in my pants. This conversation is going somewhere BAD. "Evan especially has always had a soft heart for any lost or hurt puppy he finds. Especially the tramps."
I've caught onto what he's referring to. He's referring to me as a tramp. Should I report him to somebody for verbal harassment? Probably.
"You see, he likes to take them in and play with them for a while. We never allowed him to keep them in the house so those tramps always stayed outside. And they ALWAYS wondered off." He talks in a way that makes me feel stupid, I get his point. "I've heard some rumors that you've cheated on my son."
My face flushed. Whoah. Where the hell did that come from? I shake my head confused.
"I've never cheated on your son." I say in a small voice, breaking. "I would never—"
Mr. Taylor squints at me. "You know, I don't understand what he sees in you. You're not particularly pretty in any way. Your skinny frame, big glasses, big nose—you wreak of low self esteem. It's pathetic, really. His former lovers at least had decent breast and enjoyable faces to gawk at while they talk everyone's ear off. They were around his age too. Very refined girls who came from very refined homes. They had everything my son deserved."
I can't breath. Mr. Taylor is openly bashing me right here and now. Tears threaten to spill over and run down my cheeks. I try to swallow the lump in my throat.
"And one day, I came to my son with good news of him taking over the company, but I caught him in bed with a young slut who hasn't even grown into a full cup size yet. Probably your first, right?" My mouth gaps open at the insult, "You must be good. You have to be, the way Evan treats you like some helpless child. It seems that wherever I see my son nowadays, you are always right there. Just right there."
Tears begins to fall down my cheeks. God, this is awful. I don't know if I can handle much more of this. My hands grip the chair cushions fiercely.
"I can't fire you. Oh no, I certainly cannot fire you for being a little slut." Mr. Taylor says, "And I know you'd do anything to get the book publishers position. So I'll give you a deal. I'll set you up somewhere nice for a book publishers assistant or some shit and all you have to do is admit to my son about your sinful affairs and break his heart."
I stare at my boss in disbelief. What kind of a man does that to his own son? Am I truly a threat to Mr. Taylor? I shake my head and wipe my tears away. I'm no longer hurt about what has been said, I'm full on pissed. The anger pulses through my veins and my hands are balled into tight fist. I stand up and begin to leave, but I stop. Turning to Mr. Taylor, who holds a devilish smirk as he stares at me.
"I don't know what you've truly heard or if you're making that shit up, but I'm madly in love with Evan Robert Taylor." I say angrily, "And our relationship is none of your business. So unless you truly wanna fight me, you have to do better than that shit you just pulled."
With the cocky expression leaving Mr. Taylor's face and being replaced with pure anger, I quickly get out of there. I walk to my desk and grab my purse and keys. Then I clock out for the day, 5 hours early.