Page 103 of The Frog Prince
God, she’s good.
“I’ve had about fifty calls already,” she continues in the same brutal tone, words clipped, disgust dripping in the silences between. “You’ve screwed up bad, girl. I don’t think there’s any way I can save your skin this time.”
I burn on the inside, angry, so angry. I’m outraged that people like Olivia can behave the way. they do. “Of course you can’t save my skin if you’re too busy hacking it off.”
Her chin lifts. “What does that mean?”
“You know what it means. You’ve been out to get me ever since you discovered that I worked on the ball behind your back.”
“You admit it.”
“I admit it. And I don’t regret it, either.” I look her hard in the eye, unflinching now that it’s come to this. “I’d do it again if I could.”
“You sabotaged your own success. You could have been good—”
“No, Iamgood. Maybe in your eyes I may never be great, but I’ll leave greatness to those who need their egos stroked.”
“This isn’t about ego—”
“It’sonlyabout ego.” I take a quick breath. “I just wish I’d understood this earlier. Might have saved us both a lot of wasted energy and time.”
“I did my part.”
“To destroy me.”
“You worked for me, Holly.”
“Wrong. I worked for City Events—”
“I hired you.”
“David owns the company, Olivia. Not you.”
“Then I guess it’s going to be David who fires you, isn’t it?”
*
David doesn’t arriveat the office until nine, and the mood at the office is deadly, the tension thick. Mondays are never cheerful days, but today is especially grim.
For nearly three hours I sit in my cubicle, ignoring the e-mails pouring into my in-box, e-mails from Josh, Tessa, other City Events staff. I can’t talk to anyone. I have to see David. I have to explain, and yet I know it’s going to be bad.
I close my Outlook Express and focus on gathering whatever evidence I can. I put all the Kid Fest contracts and documents into a folder, then remember my e-mails in my Sent box in Outlook that would prove I’d spoken with vendors, including my Friday noon e-mail from the Birch, which confirmed the Sunday morning details. I open Outlook again, click on my Sent folder, but it’s virtually empty. There are some e-mails in the folder, but nothing about Kid Fest.
I check my trash folder. Nothing there, either.
Olivia was damn thorough.
*
David finally arrives,and Olivia disappears straightaway into his office. I see her go in, watch his door close, and the moment the door is closed, Tessa marches from her office, storming toward me.
“I will kill her,” Tessa explodes, slapping her palm on my desk. Tessa’s tiny, but she’s wound tight, reminding me of a bomb about to detonate. “I’llkill her.”
My eyes burn. “You don’t want to go to prison. You’re so cute. You’d beeverybody’sgirlfriend.”
Tessa, punk in hideous puke green and black, scowls at me. “She fucked you over, Holly.”
I glance up, see Sara standing not far from us. She looks like a hunted rabbit, all fear and trembling in her wide blue eyes.