Ginni
“You’re firing me?”
Andrew A. Sinclair refused to meet her gaze. He turned his big brown leather chair to the window and was staring out at the city.
“It wasn’t my decision. You lied on your application. It’s corporate policy.”
Ginni crossed to the other side of his desk and leaned up against the window frame, forcing him to look at her.
“It was a little pot. It was the seventies. Everyone was doing it. I just got caught. I haven’t done any since.” It was true. No pot—for years, just the odd sniff of coke when it was offered, but she never carried. She’d learned her lesson about carrying.
Andrew was unmoved.
“What made them check?” she asked.
“They checked everybody, even me. They’re looking to let go of some extra weight.”
“Extra weight?”
“Christ, nobody has a personal secretary anymore. This just gave them an easy out. They don’t have to give you any severance.”
“You’re going to let them fire me?”
He shrugged.
“I can’t believe you’re not going to help.”
“I don’t see what I can do.”
His blasé reaction triggered the opposite in her. No bloody way! Ginni grabbed for the first thing she saw and threw it across the office. It was a picture of Andrew’s wife, his children, and the family dog, everyone dressed in sailor outfits, even the golden retriever. The picture of the happy family lying among the glittering glass shards only grew her rage. She looked for something else to throw.
Andrew was up and out of his chair. He took hold of her arms and spun her around. “Don’t do this here. I promise. We’ll talk later. Go home.”
The office door opened on two large security guards. Ginni looked to Andrew for support. She found none.
“Go home. I’ll call you.”
On her way out, she passed Evelyn on her way in.
“Shut the door, Evelyn,” Andrew instructed.
The door shut.
*
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Words and Images are my own.
Ginni is published in Strays. Strays is available in paperback or digital through amazon and your local libraries and bookstores.
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