The Boss (A Michael Jackson FanFiction)

The Boss..12..

"Hi," I politely greet the man behind the counter as I place the papers on top of it. "could I get fifty copies, each, of these papers, please? My boss is on a rampage."

The man takes the papers from the counter and nods. "Aren't all bosses? They think they can do just about anything to us employees."

"Don't I know it." I scoff, thinking of the ass of all bosses.

"So I've never seen you around here." The man comments, staring at my clothes. "Are you a new employee at the Charity Planners?"

"No, I work with Eric Southern on the fiftieth floor. I'm his assistant slash secretary."

"Oh, the contractor-architect dude?"

"Yes, that would be him."

"That's cool. I've always been interested in architecture. Maybe one day I could show him a sketch."

I shrug. "Maybe."

"Yeah," The guys smiles then stretches his arm across the counter. "I'm Drake, by the way, I'm the manager here."

"Tamera." I smile, shaking his hand, as the elevator doors open behind me.

"It's nice to meet you, Tamera." Drake smiles more as heels click closer behind me. "And I'll get right on this for you."

"Thanks."

"No pr--"

"Drake," Britta begins and her voice sounds like sirens behind me. "where are Mr. Jackson's spreadsheets? He needs them like now."

"I know and they're coming, Britt. I'm going to check on them now." Drake sighs then looks to me. "Excuse me, please, Tamera. I'll be right back and I'll get on those copies asap. I don't want your boss coming down on you too hard."

"Thanks." I sigh as Drake walks away from the counter.

"Tamera?" Britta asks behind me. I roll my eyes as she walks up beside me. "Hi, Tamera." She smiles and I turn my head slowly to look at her. "How are you?"

"Hello," I smile fake. "Britta, was it?"

"Oh, it's always been." She smirks then deliberately wipes the corners of her mouth. Almost as if she's trying to tell me something. "Why did you leave in such a hurry earlier?"

"When?" I ask, acting clueless. "And from where?"

"About half an hour ago, and from Mr. Jackson's office. You left almost in a rage. What ruffled your feathers?"

I count backwards from ten before answering her, because if I hadn't, I was gonna smack that ridiculous smirk off her face.

What is this chick trying to prove? That she's a thirsty one trick whore? Well, that's already been proven, and without the scientific method.

"He didn't want anything, Britta," I breathe through my nose. "he wasted my time. Therefore I left his office."

"Too bad." Britta smirks, leaning against the counter twirling a piece of her hair between her fingers. "He never wastes mine."

"Well yipp-ee for you." I sarcastically drawl in a British accent. "Shall I go fetch le bucket of water to quench thine thirst?"

"You seem mad, Tamera." Britta chuckles. "Are you? Are you upset you didn't get the job as his assistant?"

I turn to her, again, arching a brow. "I couldn't care less about that job, Britta, because if I wanted it, and at this moment, I could have it."

"Here you go, Tamera." Drake smiles as he hands me back the original fifteen papers he just copied. "The copies are too heavy for you to carry back, so I'm gonna have one of my guys bring them to your floor."