Charlotte twisted in her seat to face Roger head-on. “In the last three days I got sixty-eight Slack messages from you and two hundred emails from the company,” she said. “I think that qualifies as essential.”
For a moment it seemed like she’d won. Roger fell silent, gobsmacked by her back talk. Reece tried to hide his smirk with his right hand. Victory felt like pistachio green.
Charlotte knew she would pay dearly for pointing out how much Roger relied on her. She made him look so good, made his life so easy and seamless, that he couldn’t see her value at all. If he did, it would mean coming face-to-face with how much he depended on her.
She understood it now: That was why he would never promote her, never support her growth, never let her go. He relied on her, his lowly assistant who kept his life together thanklessly, day in and day out.
It felt good to say it. Just once.
Then Roger leaned forward. His frame filled the gap between her seat and Reece’s. When he wove his hand around her headrest, the heat from his fingers sent goose bumps along her neck.
All of Charlotte’s confidence dissolved as he invaded her space. This close, she could smell his breath, rank with Red Bull and vodka. She shrank back into her seat but there was nowhere to go, no room to get away from him. The full force of his glare cornered her between the edge of her seat and the car door.
“I could hire a new assistant within the hour, Charlotte. Remember that.” Behind Roger, Reece sat ramrod straight in the driver’s seat. Anger rioted under the surface of his blank expression as he pulled the car into a campus parking lot.
Shame pooled with the fright in her stomach. She felt like she had failed both of them.
“Yes, sir,” she said meekly.
“If you want to keep your job, reconsider your attitude. Stop thinking about yourself. Focus on helping Front End succeed. Then we can talk about your future.” A speck of spittle flew from his mouth and hit her on the cheek.
Charlotte barely felt it. There was an odd disconnect, a familiar sensation of stepping backward and away. It was as if she watched the confrontation from outside her body. She saw the three of them stuffed in the narrow space of the front seat: Charlotte cowering, Reece agonizing, Roger seething. His words washed over and around her as he continued. “Aubrey got that promotion because she earned it. You haven’t shown your dedication to this company. You haven’t proven yourself to me. You are nothing.”
The car came to a lurching stop. “We’re here!” Reece interrupted.
Charlotte blinked, unable to move. Roger gave her a venomous look before disappearing into the back seat. “Beautiful campus. So nice to be back,” he said as he opened the door and stepped into the parking lot. He slammed it shut behind him.
“What the hell was that?” Reece breathed. He hadn’t taken his hands off the steering wheel, unable to move. His knuckles had turned an ugly gray from his death grip on the vinyl. A hard, frightened pounding echoed in her ears. Her heartbeat.
Nothing.
I feel nothing.
Charlotte flinched as Roger rapped his knuckles on the window. She rolled it down, her movements jerky and mechanical.
“Are you coming?” he asked.
Her voice shook. “Right behind you, sir.”
Roger gave her his empty can. “You need to live-tweet from the audience,” he prattled on as if their vicious conversation hadn’t happened. “I wrote a new speech on the train. Your version was too soft. These kids won’t know what hit them.”
Her boss patted the roof of the car and stalked away. His shadow followed him across the pavement.
Charlotte closed her eyes.
My name is—
I am—
Nothing.
“Are you okay?”
Charlotte blinked. She looked at the empty Red Bull in her hand. He must have started drinking early today. Or he never stopped last night.
She dropped the can in the garbage bag at her feet. “You’re going to be late for the picnic.”
Reece twisted in the driver’s seat to face her. “The picnic can wait. Is he like that all the time? That was insane.”
My name is Charlotte Thorne. I feel nothing.
“Uh…” She coughed, still struggling to find words. A fog as thick as cotton had wrapped itself around her brain. “I guess. Do you have more trash?” She popped open the glove compartment and stared unseeing at the heap of documents and cheap sunglasses.
“Leave it on the floor, I’ll get it later. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
She had to be fine. She couldn’t be anything other than fine right now. She needed to get it together and go live-tweet his commencement address. Then she had to pack up her dorm room and get on the train. She had to go back to New York. She had to make it work. She had to be fine.
Reece wouldn’t leave it alone. He leaned forward to catch her eye. She dug her phone out of her pocket just to have something to look at. “I’m not gonna tell you how to live your life,” he said urgently, “And I know that was one conversation out of context for me. But that was awful, Charlie.”
My name is Charlotte Thorne. I work at The Front End Review. I am an executive assistant. I live in Brooklyn and I have to save up in case of an emergency.
She tore at a cuticle, blood smearing on her palm. “No one likes their boss.”
“He’s not just some asshole,” Reece ground out. “The way he talked to you is not normal. Jesus, he was threatening you! The way he invaded your space? I wanted to pull over and tell him to get the fuck out.”
Charlotte opened the door and threw herself out of the car. Reece did the same. “I can’t talk about this right now.” She started across the pavement to the steps.
