Coco

betty friedan

I was so close to slamming the file into his stupidly perfect, arrogant mug. He had me running around the office building the entire morning, up and down the entire thirty stories from where his office was located down to the storage basement. And for what, you may ask? Surely the great, efficient Mr. Ambrose would never waste his employee's time and patience? 

Ha.

One Hundred and One Uses for Bananas as Fertilizer— A Study Published in 1990.

How To Prevent Male Pattern Baldness, by the online University of Harkness. 

Yes, those were the all important files he was having me lug up thirty stories. 

 So why aren't you slamming a notice down on his desk and calling Patsy back? I pushed the thought away. 

To be honest with myself, I haven't had the slightest clue. Other than that strange coldness I felt whenever I thought about leaving Mr. Ambrose's employ. I didn't know why I felt it—maybe his silence was starting to rub off on me? 

I was busy wondering if I was starting to lose my mind when I slammed the heavy box of files down on his desk. What if I was sick? Maybe my face would freeze like his next, and I wouldn't be able to smile even if I tried. Maybe I was on my way to becoming a chauvinistic bastard too, unable to buy pretty clothes and wearing the same suit for ten years to save money? I shivered in horror. 

"Linton! I asked you a question! May I remind you that I am the one signing your paychecks?"

"And what meagre paychecks they are, sir." 

He eyed me suspiciously. "Flattery won't get you anywhere, Linton." 

I sketched a bow. God, it was like Mr. Ambrose had been born and raised in Victorian England, what with his manners and all. He had to be the only billionaire on the Continent that still kept paper files, though I suspected that was just due to the amusement he garnered from watching me huff and puff and lug those files up. "Of course, sir."

"Hm. Adequate. I asked you if you intend to miss more work over these—" he paused, taking in a deep breath as his left pinkie finger twitched three times before he continued—"feminist marches of yours?" 

I watched him struggle though those last words in ill concealed amusement. 

"Actually, my friends made me an offer I'm considering." I plopped down on a uncomfortable, cheap plastic chair I was 99% certain he had gotten at a 99 Cent store. The contrast between the chair and his modern, although bare, office was hilarious."We're thinking of starting our own business together, centered around the ideals and causes we all support. It'll be sort of a non-profit, but Patsy's a whiz at that sort of thing and she says we could make a decent living out of it." 

He didn't take his eyes off of his computer screen, scrolling though who knows what boring business stuff he needed to take care of. "Hmm. I hope you don't intend to miss more work because of this hobby of yours." 

I stiffened in anger. Ten deep breathes Lilly, and absolutely DO NOT bash the chair on his hard head. It'll be a waste of a perfectly good, innocent chair. "Actually, it would require me to resign from this company." I turned to leave. "Will that be all, sir?" 

"What." He didn't yell, didn't scream, but somehow it felt like he did. Silence and cold radiated from him, blanketing the room with a chilling tension that I could cut with a knife. The only movement was the staccato tap-tap-tap of his left pinkie finger drumming on the rich wood of his desk. 

I turned around and tried for a carefree smile. It faded when I met his hard, dark eyes. "Excuse me?"

Now, Mr. Ambrose's poker face was so impenetrable people who didn't know him well often thought he was dead, or frozen solid. But I could have sworn that he grinded his teeth and choked out the next words. 

"Are you resigning from your position?" His eyes drilled into mine, and I gulped. 

"Ehh, I'm thinking about it. It is kinda my dream job, and I get to work with my best friends, after all." I shrugged. 

He stood, slamming his hands down on the desk. "Unacceptable. I refuse." 

I simply stared. "Excuse me?" 

"I do not let you resign." 

I felt myself getting angrier. "You're not the one who gets to make that decision." 

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm your boss. I am the one that gets to make all the decisions." He flicked a hand. "Alright, now that that matter's settled, I need you to write some emails to the head of—" 

I stormed up to his desk, slammed a fist down. 

His face froze. "Linton, I hope you know how much that desk cost." 

"That's it!" I jammed a finger into his chest. Ow. His chest was like stone, and I resisted the urge to cradle my poor finger and check for bruises. "I said I was CONSIDERING it, you selfish, arrogant, controlling bastard. But you just helped me make up my mind! Consider today the day I resign from you stupid company!"

I cut him off with a jabbing motion, and he shut his mouth. "And since it's my resignation day, I'd like to voice some complaints! So shut up and listen for once in your miserly, loveless life!"

"I've been your secretary for YEARS, and you pay me like crap! Absolute crap! Do you know what other secretaries make? TWICE what I do—no, they probably make TRIPLE. And instead of making sure that your loyal workers have a decent salary, all you care about is making MORE money?

What are you going to do with it, wipe your arse? Use it to buy someone who can actually stomach you? Or just stuff it into your grave with you? What's the use of all that money if you don't spend it on something worthwhile?" 

I was so close to him now, so close I could count the dark flecks of turquoise in his cold eyes. 

"You know what? I was actually considering staying here! You know why? Because I'm loyal! I believe in the best of people! But- But you! Are! Just! THE WORST! You didn't even come to my march! 

Do you know how many months it took us to plan everything? And here I am, coming with you to every expo, every factory, every little thing!" 

"Li—" He started to say, but I held up a hand. 

"You know, people can only live in the cold and silence for so long, Mr. Ambrose." I stepped away, turned around. "I'll mail you my resignation forms." 

And then I left the cold marble and dark eyes, and stepped out into the sun.

But the sun didn't feel warm either. 

author's note: I want to thank @ifrit5789 for all the votes and comments on my stories. I personally don't think what I write is any good at all, but your support truly means a lot to me! :) I know it's not much, but this chapter's dedicated to you as a thank you!