Tangled In Strings

Chapter Twenty-Four

"Sure."

He takes a seat across from me, holding out sheets. I take them, scanning the paragraphs.

"This is my client list, he says, as if I can't read.

"And? What about it?"

"It's a shit list. Ever since the beginning of this year, I've gotten shit deals. Low-grade actors, up and coming food chains. I've represented Oscar winners before, Scarlett. I'm the best guy you've got here."

"Your manager assigns your deals. You get the clients you work for, and lately Jerry, your client's numbers are down."

"Well, the manager has something against me! I have twice as much experience as her; I have twice as much talent and—"

"And you treat her like crap, spewing your egotistical righteousness onto her day in and day out. She has been very vocal with me on your failings, not only as an employee, but as a gentleman."

When he glances to Norman, as if that will somehow make a difference, as if that will get him what he wants, my mouth sets, thankfully, Norman regards him with disinterest, turning back to the television.

"Don't look at him, Jerry. I'm your boss."

He chuckles, looking down at his watch and my brows soar.

"What's funny?"

"What's funny is that you only have this job because he favored you from the start. I've actually gone to school. I've been in this industry twice as long as you have and I should be sitting in that damn seat."

I begin to flick my pen into the desk. "Is that so?"

"Yes. You nearly destroyed this company with your infatuation, yet he gives you the big office. God, things always come easier for you wom—"

My pen stops moving. As if I hadn't already been done with this conversation before, he's really just done it.

"Were you going to say, women?"

"No, I mean—" He rubs the back of his head, his mouth twisting with frustration. "I wasn't—"

"Exactly," I snap, and I catch Norman watching me on the couch. "You take back those words. Be smart. Because whether you like it or not, the person sitting across from you is a goddamn woman, and your job is in her hands."

"Look, Scarlett—"

"Ms. Bardot," I correct, sitting up, enjoying his squirming.

It seems to kill him, not being able to snap back.

"Miss Bardot, I didn't mean to offend you. I just believe that I deserve more from this company."

"Let me tell you something, Jerry." I stand, walking around the desk. His eyes fail to hide his discontentment with this situation; so naturally, I plant myself right in front of him, sitting on the edge of the desk. My arms cross as I peer down at him. "If this had been my business a year ago, you would have already been gone. You think you're the only decent PR agent in New York, yet, you fail to back up your statements with the proof needed to make you as invincible as you seem to think you are. You speak over every woman who tries to do her job in your presence, because you believe our place is behind a switchboard. And to top it all off, you actually truly think you're an asset to this company. For years, I've sat by and watched you walk, run, and trample over people to get what you want. For years, I've wondered what I would do if I had an employee such as you, and finally, I have my answer."

His eyes round into wide circles, his mouth falling open. "You're not firing me...?"

I regard with him disgust and straighten onto my heels, flicking my head toward the door. "Get the fuck out of my office."