Marcia was staring at him, waiting for a response. The temptation to toy with her and see if it took the lift out of her super-hold hairspray won out. “Disappointed, Marcia?”
The human resources representative seated to Marcia’s left at the shiny conference table gave her a subtle nod. Legal on her right braced pen on paper.
“Well, Bob.” Marcia flipped open the folder in front of her and consulted the documents.
The table reflected the folder’s cover. Had they shined it up for this meeting?
“I believe I gave you the prepared statement on the twenty-first of last month,” Marcia said.
Legal’s gaze whipped to her. “Believe.”
“I know.” Marcia cleared her throat. “I gave you the prepared statement on the twenty-first.”
Legal scribbled a note.
“The twenty-first.” Bob pretended to think it through. He knew the date even better than Marcia. That had been the day of his rebirth. “I could have sworn it was the twenty-second.”
HR scrolled on their screen and showed it to Marcia.
“No, Bob.” Her smile looked spackled onto her face with her overbearing makeup. “It was the twenty-first.”
Legal made another note.
“Are you sure?” Bob tapped his chin. “Because I could have sworn it was the same day we had birthday cake in the break room for Taylor’s birthday.” Pretty crappy birthday cake—no gluten, no nuts or nut products. He gave them all a timid smile. “And Taylor’s birthday is on the twenty-second.”
Legal looked up. “Who is Taylor?”
“Not germane,” Marcia snapped.
Just like Bob had been.
“No, Bob.” Marcia’s carefully pleasant tone frayed at the edges. “I have the original document, and it was created on the twenty-first.”
HR tapped the table. “This information was all forwarded to you with a copy of your file and the purposes of this hearing.”
She’d smudged the glossy table, and Bob suppressed the desire to wipe away her grubby fingerprint. He clicked his fingers. “But maybe Marcia didn’t give it to me until the day after it was created.”
“No, Bob.” Marcia raised her voice.
Legal cleared her throat.
“What Marcia is saying, Bob,” HR surged into the gap, “is that the correct statement was given to you along with clear instructions to brief the senator.” She forced her mouth into a smile. “As you will have read in your copy of today’s proceedings.”
“No.” Bob shook his head and pressed a thumbprint on the table. There. Now he had left a small mark. Not that they would forget him after today.
HR frowned. “No?”
“No, I didn’t read the file.” Bob grinned at her.
HR gaped at him.
Legal sat forward, their white blouse front perilously close to their cream cheese bagel. “You admit to having received the correct statement and understood the instruction from Mrs. Cartwright?”
Cart. Wright. Interesting name considering the cunt reminded him more of the mule pulling a cart. “Yup.”
Marcia exchanged a smug look with Legal and HR. “But that wasn’t the statement you gave to the senator, nor did you brief him. Do you admit that?”
“Nope.” The Arby’s he’d had for lunch made him want to fart. So he did.
They gaped at him.
“Bob.” Marcia looked pained. “I don’t think you are taking these proceedings very seriously.”
“You’re right about that.” He’d had enough, so he stood. Straightening the crease on his Brooks Brothers suit pants, he said, “We all know this is fucking bullshit.”
Marcia choked on her spit.
“Everyone in this room.” Bob indicated the boardroom and the larger office outside its glass walls. “And all of them out there know we work for an insecure, stupid old man who thinks the answer to eternal youth lies in the pussies of younger women.”
“Bob.” HR shot to her feet. “We do not allow language like that in this workplace. We also do not—”
“It’s funny you should say that, Cameron.” He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Because we cover the tracks of a man who has said and done so much worse.”
Legal straightened. “That is merely hearsay and slander. This office categorically denies that the opinions you have expressed—”
“Shut the fuck up, Stevie.” Bob had a margarita and an early retirement waiting for him. He quoted a new favorite. “The smallest worm will turn, being trodden on.”
Marcia sputtered. “I don’t understand.”
