Mr kings and I

Chapter 1 - that jerk

HEY GUYS THANK YOU FOR READING MY FIRST STORY EVER I HOPE YOU LIKE IT AND PLEASE TO TELL ME WHAT YOU THINK ABOUT IT.

The bastard made me work a full day only to fire me at the end. Standing there with fat beefy fingers awkwardly turning the pages of my file. "So, as I was saying. You've left me no choice but to fire you, Kayla. Um, I mean Miss Smith. I hope you understand" My hands felt stiff and the tip of my fingers was so blistered from typing nine hours without a break, trying to meet an impossible deadline that he set. Now the oversize bastard was telling me I no longer had a job! I dug my nails into the palm of my hand to keep from strangling the fucker to death. However, my voice betrayed me when I finally spoke. Through gritted teeth, I asked, "You're firing me? Because I was late a couple of times?" He shifted uncomfortably, clearing his throat as he adjusted his tie. I watched his movement with interest. If I strangled him with his tie, I bet nobody would cry. He dropped his hand, noticing the way I looked at the hand on his neck and the eerie smile that played on my face. He cleared his throat a second time. "Um, it's been more than a couple of times, Miss Smith. For the past two months you have been coming in considerable late and your work attire is quite appalling. You have had ample warning about your tardiness, all of which you ignore." I gawked in disbelief. Yes, I've been late a few times, but I have been working my ass off, missing lunch to full fill my task. And so what if I sometimes forget to iron my shirt? I am still one of the best workers in this dump, anyway. "That's why you're firing me?" My voice picked up a notch. The file closed with a loud thud. His fingers flatly spread over it, almost covering the entire thing. "It would be best for all involved if you quietly collect your things and leave. No need to draw any more unwanted attention to yourself." I was beyond pissed. Throwing caution to the wind, I told the asshole exactly what I thought of him and his fucked-up company. "You know what? You can keep your stupid job. I'm sick and tired of working my butt off for a company that doesn't appreciate me. I'm dead on my feet all day, trying to put money in your pocket with no acknowledgement from you. So, you can take your fucking job and shove it up your ass, for all I care." His hand moved to adjust his tie again. I swear, if he adjusted it anymore, he'd strangle his damn self. The thought made me smile to myself. He stood taller, squaring his shoulders. Head tilted upward slightly, trying to look formidable. However, he only looked like a greasy old man, one doughnut away from bursting out of his shirt. Sweat dripped from his mostly bald head that glistened in the late afternoon sun. The sight almost made me laugh, and I would have, but he was pissing me off. "I do not appreciate your tone or your attitude, Miss Smith, it is highly uncalled for." "Fuck you, asshole!" I spat. "This place is a shithole, anyway." Turning on my heel, I pushed the door open and walked away. The shuffle of feet and chairs let me know I was soon to be the new topic of gossip in the office lunchroom. My colleagues threw pitiful glances my way. I ignored them all, holding my head high as I walked over to my desk, which was cramped between two Elvis wannabes. I sure as hell would not miss them. My stride slowed as I took in the place I've spent the last two years making my own. The space was uncomfortable, small but manageable. On the desk, the computer that I've patched with duct tape on more occasions than I can count hung to one side on the verge of fall to its death. My coffee mug that was still half full, sat on a file containing a list of clients that needed emailing to next day. The tattered chair was mended so many times it was hard to tell what colour it was originally. The seat was so worn out that a butt-shaped dent was permanently indented in it. I might hate the stupid place, but that small uncomfortable space was my second home, and I was going to miss it. Tears welled up in my eyes, but I refused to cry. I felt like shit because I was hoping to keep this job a little longer. God knows I needed the money so I could finally move out of my mother's place and into my own. My plans were all fucked up now, and the thought made me even angrier. I need to vent to someone and the only person willing to listen to me bitch about my shitty job is my boyfriend, John. ++++ My feet dragged as I approached John's house. My blouse stuck to my skin from driving forty-five minutes in a car with a broken air conditioner. I would have opened the window as I drove, but the fume coming from the engine was dreadful. I really should get that looked at. But, with no job and no money, I guess I'll just have to add it to the list of things I can't afford. As I approach the door, I leaned against it. Using it as a clutch to keep my tired body standing. I really wanted a hot bath and a warm bed. I rang the doorbell three times and got no answer. My brow furrowed. That was strange. I knew John was home because I called him before I left for work, and he said he was taking a sick day to work on something important. And besides, his car was parked in front of mine. He must have fallen asleep. I was tempted to dump in my car and go home, but that hot bath and warm bed were calling to me from inside the house. I lazily pulled myself away from the door and retrieved the spare keys that hidden under the heavy doormat. I swore a few times as I tried and files two times to lift the stupid thing. It felt like a victory when I finally got the keys. "Hot bath, here I come." I let myself in, but not before letting loose a few more curse words as I replaced the keys under the mat. I hope to god that I never needed it in an emergence. I'd be hacked to death on the doorstep before I can get to it. As I closed the door behind me, I heard faint sounds coming from upstairs. I couldn't exactly make out what was being said, but I knew for damn sure why it was being said. Tiredness aside, I grabbed the baseball bat he kept in the little storage room under the steps and made my way up the stairs. The sounds got louder as I passed John's bedroom. My feet left heavy as I approached the bathroom where the distinct sound of two people fucking was coming from. My brain telling me to get ready to for the unexpected. However, my heart was refusing to believe that John would betray me. So, with the bat in hand, I slowly turned the knob on the door. The thumping of my heartbeat was so fast that it was all that I could hear. All my bravado left me as I pushed the door open. The bat falling to the floor with a loud thud. Four pairs of stunned eyes greeted me as I stood there unsure what to do with myself.

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What will happen next?
What did Kayla saw?
Find out in the next chapter.

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To be continued.....