Turning on my computer, I run a search for websites that will allow me to sell it online. It doesn't take long to locate one, but I must send them appraisal documents to prove the value of the bracelet. Luckily, I was forward thinking and did that before leaving Virginia. They are scanned into my computer. I email the company and send them the appraisal, along with a photo of the bracelet. Then I go to the closet and check the bin where the stuffed animals are kept. Inside each one is where the jewelry is hidden. I didn't know what else to do. Knowing where I was moving, and that there might not be a safe place to keep them, I figured it would be best to keep them here. It was a smart move, considering how dangerous this area is.
Next, I start a job search for any kind of work that can keep food in my fridge and the electric bill paid. If I can sell the bracelet and work a couple of jobs until I land a real job, perhaps I can make it here. If not, plan B will be instituted. The problem is, I don't have a plan B.
Gotta get working on that.
On Monday morning, I meet Joe at his office to offer him a deal. If he doesn't stop harassing me, I slap him with a lawsuit.
"You're funny, Vivi. How exactly have I been harassing you?"
"Come on, Joe, you know exactly what I'm talking about. You want one thing from me and it isn't training on the new system I installed. So tell me, do you want me to continue my rotation in the shops or do I resign now?"
He pushes his large leather chair back and stands.
"Vivi, you'd really resign?"
"Yes, I'm prepared to do that."
He takes my hand and I shudder, jerking it out of his grasp.
"What, you don't like to hold my hand?"
His slimy voice sends a chill down my spine.
"No, I don't like to hold your hand. I don't want you to touch me."
"But we could have such fun together."
"Joe, you are my boss and this is inappropriate."
"Only if you don't want it."
I flash him a scathing look. "What makes you think I want this? I've told you no on how many occasions? I can't even count them anymore."
He runs his hand over his greasy hair and I want to gag. "I promise, one night with me and you'll change your mind."
"Enough." I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone. "I have enough here to prove sexual harassment. This has been going on since the beginning of our work relationship and I'm taking this to an attorney. Consider this my resignation."
I'm marching to the door on my way out of his office, when he slams me against the wall. Air gushes from my lungs in a whoosh as my chest is crushed into the hard surface. It happens so fast I can't process. As awareness hits, I realize I've underestimated Joe and that I'm in real danger.
He whispers against my cheek and his steamy rank breath fans across my face. My body vibrates in terror. "You think you're pretty fucking smart, don't you, Vivi? With that degree from MIT and your little nasty trick? You also thought I bought into that Prescott Beckham bullshit too, didn't you? Well, I followed you for weeks and never saw any interaction with him." He grabs my phone and even though I can't see what he's doing, I'm sure he's erasing the conversation I recorded.
"Now try to see what your little attorney or your so-called friend can do with that." I hear my phone drop to the floor. Then he unbuttons my coat and says, "You've teased me long enough, you little whore, and I'm finally going to get what I deserve."
Think fast!
My back is toward him, so I can't knee him in the groin, but I can struggle and scream. A screech unlike any I've ever let loose before belts out of me and goes on and on. I squirm enough so he can't get his hand clamped over my mouth. Somehow he loses his grip and I wiggle enough to elbow him in the solar plexus. It's not sufficient to do any damage, but it allows me room to turn and knee the hell out his balls. Now I make a break for it and run like my ass is on fire, screaming for help.
By this time, people are gathering about. Maybe they heard my scream. I'm not sure. But I keep yelling, "He tried to attack me. He tried to rape me." And I keep repeating myself.
Some kind woman takes me in her arms and someone else calls the police. Joe stumbles through the door and claims I'm a lunatic who attacked him. The police arrive and take us both in for questioning.
A female officer asks if I want to go to the hospital, but I decline. I explain everything that happened, starting from when I was hired. I don't leave out any detail, including what Vince told me about Jenny, the girl who resigned. My chest and the front of my shoulders are sore where Joe slammed me into the wall and I keep rubbing them, trying to relieve the ache.
"Are you okay?" the officer asks.
"It's just bruised, I'm sure."
"May I?"
I take off my coat, but my sweater covers up everything.
"Would you mind slipping your sweater off your shoulder a bit?" When I do, I'm shocked to see the purple already showing up.
"Yeah, that's going to be a lot worse by tomorrow. You should get that checked out by the hospital. You might have a fractured collar bone or something."
"I don't have any insurance."
She pats my hand. "If he caused this, you may not need it. It's also another way to add evidence."
Maybe she's right. I don't know anymore. Why did Joe have to go and do this? Now I won't be able to look for another job. Dammit.
"Come on. I'll drive you over."
"Thanks."
As it turns out, I have a cracked rib. The doctor says there's nothing they can do but treat the pain. The police officer has them take pictures to submit as evidence of the attack.
On the way back to the station, she says, "I don't suppose you threw yourself into that wall, did you?"
"What?"
"He's claiming you attacked him."
"Yeah, I usually like to break my own ribs."
She chuckles. "That's what I thought. I think this will work out for you."
"I was going in there to resign. I recorded his conversation. It wasn't the first time, like I said. All I wanted was to get out and find another job. Now I've got a broken rib to deal with and most likely a court date."
She casts me a sympathetic glance. "Hey, one good thing came out of this. He won't be doing this anymore."
"Don't count on it. I wouldn't put anything past that slime ball."
Chapter 6
Prescott
Why the hell won't she call me?
After I sent the coats, I thought I'd immediately hear back from her, but nothing. She didn't even send me an acknowledgement. Then almost a week later, the box was sitting on my desk when I arrived at work with a note inside. She'd written: "Thanks, but no thanks."
The Little Wolf struck back.
She's devouring up my days, not by the hour, but by the second. I wanted to possess her. Well, that joke is on me. Vivienne Renard fucking owns my ass, balls, and dick. I have to figure out a way to get all of them back, because I'm a worthless piece of shit without them.
"Mr. Beckham, your father would like to see you in his office," Lynn says through the phone. Then she whispers, "Tell the bastard to fuck off, and you'll see him in yours."
"Lynnie, I'd never put you in that position. Let him know I'm on my way."
"Chicken shit."
She's right. For the life of me, I don't know why I let the son of a bitch get to me. Maybe it's because I still want his praise. And why the hell is that?
When I get to his door, the one thing I don't do is knock. This is more my business than his. Granddad is right. I have more of a right to the Whitworth name than he does. And now with him siding with the step-cunt, he doesn't deserve much respect at all. My grandfather barely acknowledges him anymore.
"You wanted to see me." It's not a question. I'm brusque and to the point.
"Sit."
"I'd rather not."
"Fine. You need to straighten your ass up."
"You're not in a position to tell me how to run my life. You lost that ability at Christmas."
He winces. That's a surprise.
"Your stepmoth-"
"She's nothing to me."
"Prescott, please."
"No. In fact, I'd rather you never speak of her in my presence. I've made that perfectly clear."
He offers me a slight nod.
"Is there something else you wanted to discuss, perhaps about business? If not, I have things to do."
"No."
I walk out. I have no idea what he wanted to tell me about my life and don't care. Whatever that bitch did to make him wince doesn't concern me. He can deal with her shit.
When I pass Lynn, I motion her into my office.
"Well?" she asks.
"He started talking about me straightening up, but I cut him off, reminding him he lost that right. Then he tried to bring up the step-cunt, but I cut him off again and that was it."
"Hmm. That's a curiosity, isn't it?"