Taken (Dark Desires 1)

Billionaire Brother’s

NATASHA

The nameplate on her desk read Delores Morris. I wondered what kind of parents would name their kid Delores Morris. It sounded like a character from a children’s book that was a bull frog or maybe a mule. Or maybe it was more like a brand of cookies from the Depression Era. Delores Morris Ginger Snaps.

Either way, Miss Delores Morris had called me to come to the Human Resource office over fifteen minutes ago and I was still sitting here waiting. I knew what was coming. You didn’t get called to the Human Resource office just before noon on a Friday to be told you’re getting a promotion.

Looking around the office, I decided that Delores Morris was making me wait on purpose. I looked at my watch and saw the little hand was on the twelve and the big hand was on the one. It was officially after noon. I had been sitting here in the morning until it turned afternoon.

Eyeballing the candy dish full of Tootsie-Rolls on Delores Morris’s desk I shifted in my seat and looked behind me out of the office door. Holding my breath, I didn’t hear anything. So, I reached up and grabbed a handful, shoving the little morsels in my blazer pocket along with my house keys and a pen. Figuring I might walk lopsided if I didn’t even things out, I grabbed another handful and stuffed my other pocket. There were now only four lonely little Tootsie-Rolls in the bowl.

Anyone with such a name as Delores Morris had to have another bag of candy around in her desk. Probably more.

What would she do if she saw me sitting here with the bag in my lap, unwrapping one after the other while she delivered the news.

“Are those mine, Miss Morgan?” she’d ask.

“What, these? No. I had them in my pocket. They’re mine.” She’d see her almost empty candy dish, yank open the drawer only to find it bare of more Tootsie-Rolls.

“Yup. Picked them up this morning.” I’d say as I ate another one, really smacking away as I chewed. I smiled to myself. That would be funny. If only I were brave enough to actually do it.

“I’m sorry for keeping you waiting, Natasha.” Said a hurried Delores without shutting the door behind her. She was a full-figured woman who wore her hair shaved close to the head in a style very few women could get away with. But she had a perfectly round head so it did look good on her. Her nails were squared and acrylic and made a pleasant clacking noise as she shuffled some papers on her desk and made room for herself.

“Natasha, we’ve had to make a difficult decision…”

Natasha? I had never met this woman and yet she was calling me by my first name. Perhaps she wouldn’t mind if I called her Dory.

“We think, that is your supervisor Jolene and myself, we have decided that your services are no longer needed here at Mangan Financial.” She said. I wondered if they still gave out pink slips like they used to. Looking on Dolores’s desk I didn’t see anything pink. “You had been warned about filing your evening reports and when Jolene tried to help you were insubordinate.”

“Jolene herself doesn’t know how to file the evening reports. If she did I wouldn’t be doing them wrong. She’s the one who trained me, for Pete’s sake.” I said, rolling my eyes.

Dolores continued rambling on about handbook regulations, proper procedures and COBRA benefits. I wondered what would happen if I were to suddenly start to twitch and grumble obscenities at her. My Turret’s Syndrome that had been pleasantly lying dormant for several years had reared its ugly head under the stress and strain of being fired.

How great would that be? To just start shouting F-this, F-that, and a whole slew of terms even sailors would blush just hearing. I had to choke back the giggles that wanted to race up my throat. I needed to stay in control.

“Now, Natasha, I’ll just need you to sign this paperwork and…”

“Sign what?” I broke out of my trance.

“This is just a standard form stating you understand why you are being terminated and …”

“I’m not signing anything.”

Dolores looked at me as if those symptoms of Turret’s had actually occurred.

“I’m afraid you have to sign this.” She said. There was no more playing Miss Nice Morris. Delores glared at me and plucked a pen from her smiley face coffee mug full of pens. Setting it on the document to be signed she slid it in front of me.

“No. I don’t. I don’t work for you anymore. I’m not signing anything.” I sat back in the chair, folding my arms across my chest and glared right back at her. I saw the panic in her face. Poor Dolores was one of those people who followed everything to the letter. Rules were not meant to be broken. There was a proper procedure for everything. And when one rule wasn’t followed it led to trouble and Dolores was not about to get into trouble over the likes of me. At least that is what she thought.

Finally, after several seconds of not saying anything her eyes fell to her candy dish. I saw her take a breath as if she was about to speak but thought it was probably no use. Her eyes flashed at mine as I smirked at her.

Yes, it was childish. I was a grown woman in my mid-twenties and could have handled this with grace and class. But after two years at Mangan Financial watching one woman more incompetent than the next get away with mucking up the works, I had had enough. Besides, I was fired. It wasn’t like there was something I could say or do that would make them change their mind.

If showing up on time every day, putting in eight solid hours and doing the job I was assigned wasn’t good enough, then there was no hope for me. That was the part that really burned.

I had seen women in my office show up drunk after lunch. There were a couple of girls who never arrived on time, ever. They were late every day. Not just five or ten minutes but we’re talking they would come in to work half an hour late and think nothing of it. There would be no calling to the boss’s office for them.

My supervisor, Jolene would shut her office door and sleep at her desk.