Back in the accounting department, two of my younger subordinates were already gossiping about him nonstop.
“He’s so hot,” one whispered. “You’d swear he’s an actor if you didn’t know better. If we’d known the new boss looked like that, nobody would’ve bitched about the buyout.”
“Heard he’s only twenty-eight,” the other piped up. “Built a huge, successful tech startup, then took over his family’s business. Dude’s the textbook rich, powerful CEO. I gotta post this on social media right now.”
“Quit droolin’ over him…”
“C’mon, even Katrina-who’s always such a stickler with accounting-got distracted enough to block his door. Why can’t I fan girl a little? Ow, why’d you kick me?!”
I kept my face totally blank as I walked over to my desk.
“Save the gossip for after work,” I said.
Both girls clamped their mouths shut and buried their faces in their screens.
The sharp click of high heels echoed down the hall.
Erica Leyland stormed in. As usual, her makeup was perfect, and her tailored business suit fit like a glove.
She slammed a stack of receipts down on the intern’s desk.
“Why’d you reject Marketing’s expense report?” she snapped.
The new grad flinched, stammering. “Ms. Leyland, these don’t follow the new expense policy. Anything fifty percent over the limit needs the General Manager’s signature-“
Erica cut her off. “Marketing’s out there bustin’ their asses to land clients. Meanwhile, you all sit cozy in your cubicles, lookin’ for ways to make our jobs harder.”
I looked up, my voice cold and steady. “Ms. Leyland, we sent out the new expense guidelines weeks ago. We even held a mandatory training for everyone. If you don’t get the rules, go review ’em. If you got a problem with ’em, take it up with upper management. Yellin’ at my staff just proves you know how to be loud.”
Erica turned to me. She blinked, fakin’ a look of sudden realization. “Katrina… you ain’t lettin’ personal grudges mess with your work, are you?”
I pushed my glasses up my nose and stared right at her.
“What personal grudge could we even have?”
She let out a soft, snooty little laugh.
“Guess I’ll just have to ask Jamison to talk to you himself. After all, you two were married.”
Jamison Montford showed up a few minutes later.
Erica greeted him with a soft, breathy “Mr. Montford.” She bit her lower lip and stared down at her heels-playin’ the poor, bullied victim perfectly.
“No need to be so hard on Erica,” he said. “She’s just a junior employee.”
Jamison frowned at me, his tone totally uninterested-like we were chattin’ about the weather.
I knew this routine all too well.
Before we got divorced, he’d said those exact words to me a million times.
