Mr. Perfect(9)

“Miss Hatcher!” my boss yells as he stands up.

I look around at my peers and every bit of my body goes hot as all nine faces stare back at me.

“Are you OK, Miss Hatcher?” McAllister asks from the other end of the table. He’s got a smug look on his face.

I don’t know what just happened, but I need to get out of here. I take a deep breath and smile. “I just remembered. I have…” I have what? Shit. My heart starts racing and I swallow hard. “I have…”

“You have something to tell us, Ellie?” Jennifer Sluts-around asks. And the funny thing is, I think she’s trying to be helpful. “Reorganization, maybe?” Jennifer throws me one of those quirky sideways smiles girlfriends do when things are going terribly awry.

“Um, yeah, I mean…” I stammer.

“Miss Hatcher,” Mr. Sowards says. “Whatever you have to say can wait. Sit down. Now!”

I look around, silently pleading for help, but when my eyes land on McAllister Stonewall, he says, “Yes, Ellie, tell us what’s got you all hot and bothered.”

I shake my head. Nope. Nope. Not gonna do this. I’m quitting today and I’m not going out as the girl who was sexting the boss during a meeting.

“I… I quit.”

Everyone gasps.

“You do not quit, Miss Hatcher,” McAllister says. “You’ve been working here for seven years. You just got a promotion and a new office. So no, you’re not quitting. Sit down and we can discuss this issue later.”

“What?” Where the hell does he get off? And I’m not discussing shit with him later. “No, I have to go. I’m sorry. I forgot to turn off my oven at home. I was baking cookies this morning…” Baking cookies? Jesus, Ellie, step it the fuck up. Do not let him chase you out of here and make these past seven years a joke. “I mean, not the oven, I have a… a dental appointment. My tooth,” I say, tapping on my front tooth. “Needs a root canal. And my cholesterol is high, so I need pre-treatment. And… and then I have to… I have…”

“Ellie,” McAllister says in a stern voice. “Sit down. We’ll discuss it all later. None of that is true and you know it.”

I move away from the table very slowly. Like McAllister is a lion and he might pounce and eat me up at any moment. I use the back of my boss’ chair to steady myself as I inch towards the conference room doors.

McAllister stands too, and he’s coming at me quick. I panic and make a break for it. I reach for the handle on the doors that will swing them wide open just as McAllister Stonewall grips my arm and thwarts my escape.

“Tampon!” I scream as loud as I can.

McAllister lets go, his handsome, perfectly-groomed face filled with confusion. “What?”

“Tampon!” I yell again. “I need a tampon, OK? I didn’t want to have to say it out loud, but you forced me, Stonewall. So I will see you people… whenever. Get out of my way because I quit and I need a tampon!”

The magic word. It does the trick. Everyone in the room except McAllister erupts in laughter. But whatever, I’m outta there. I dash across the top floor heading towards the elevator.

“Ellie Hatcher!” McAllister Stonewall yells. “Stop right where you are!”

Oh, my God. The whole fucking place is looking at me. There are at least fifty creatives working on this floor alone. And when I look down at the people on the sixth floor below, there are dozens of faces looking up too. People start whispering loudly as I try not to fall apart.

“Ellie!” Stonewall says again. “Wait!”

I look at the elevator, then the stairs. But the only way out of here without a confrontation in front of a hundred people is… the slide.

I break for it, almost twisting an ankle as I run. Stonewall’s feet thunder on the marble tiled floors behind me and I know he’s close. He’s going to catch me and there is no way in hell I’m talking to that man ever again. I get to the slide just as his fingertips brush against the fluttery silk of my blouse sleeve. But I grab the handle as I swing my feet and legs in, and then I whoosh myself into the seven-story slide.

I scream, then laugh in triumph as I make my escape. It’s fast and exhilarating. Thrilling even. Why have I never done this before? The first twist comes up, and I slow slightly. “Whooo!” I yell in the slide. “Hahahahaha!”

When I come out of the second twist, it’s a steep drop and I pick up speed.

That’s when my skirt starts to ride up my thighs. My legs are all sweaty from the embarrassment and confrontation.

No. No, no, no. You cannot get stuck in this—