Lethal Desire (Fatal Pursuit Sequel)

three

One of the benefits of basically being a nobody at work is that I can wear whatever I want. Even since the "promotion", no one even looks my way or asks my opinion on anything in meetings. So when I push the big glass door of the conference room open, and some suited-up jerk doused in overzealous cologne slides past me as if I was holding the door open for him, I'm not the least bit phased.

I sit into one of the open seats and the middle-aged white woman across the table looks at me blankly, like she's waiting for me to say something to her.

I don't really know her but I know that her name is Margie and her ideas are always outdated or lackluster, but the team entertains her anyway because she's the only other woman and they don't want to catch flack for discrimination.

She loves to wear these floral-print peplum tops, chunky pearl necklaces, and hot pink lipstick smeared on her pencil-thin lips.

I leaf through my notebook and write the date on the first open page.

Margie clears her throat, not because she has something stuck in it, but to get my attention, "Ahem." she fake clears again.

The fuck do you want Margie?

I look up at her with tired eyes,"Yes?"

"Small americano, two creams, one and a half sugars. Make sure you write one and a half  because I can taste the difference."

Did she just order coffee at me? Ooh, she got me fucked up.

"I'm not the–" I started.

"Oh, we're placing orders now?" the suited-up jerk who pushed past me jumps in, "If you're going to the place down the street, chai latte, make it dirty. If you're going to Starbucks then just a flat white, please and thank you, sweetheart." He grins at me cheekily and although he was annoying, he was lowkey fine.

More people joined in to tell me their orders as well, but others looked up at me, remembering who I am, their eyes darting back and forth across my face waiting for me to react. I began to feel a nervous knot tangle itself in my stomach as I felt myself slink away.

But then I remember what Dr. Kavon told me about having to show up for myself more to help heal the little girl in me who never had someone to speak up for her. I wanted to be that someone for her now.

Not gonna let anyone put those bows in my hair again.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." I click my pen closed and lay it flat on my notebook, "I've been coming to these meetings twice a week for the past month, offering my time, effort and ideas to these projects." I look around the room as I say this, "Now, I don't know if you guys are blind or just straight up have dementia given the median age range here, but let me know so we can file a request to seek proper accommodations for you."

I know that last bit seemed harsh but that's nothing compared to the stuff they say to each other on a regular basis. I was simply copying how they talk to each other.

"Ouch." Suit whispers. He doesn't look the least bit offended though, more entertained than anything, but Margie, on the other hand, was fuming.

"What did you just say?" Usually at this point I would have backed down, but I realize that they're not my authority anymore. Since the "promotion not promotion", we're on the same level.

"I'm not the damn intern." I assert, "For future reference, don't just assume the only black person in the room is here to take your order."

She blubbers defensively, "W-what! Excuse you! If you're trying to imply that I'm a racist I'll have you know that I'm a member of the-"