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Lockout (The Alpha Group #2) Page 33
Author: Maya Cross

I was wrong.

On Monday morning, I got a call from Ernest.

"Sophia, could I see you in my office for a moment?"

Ernest wasn't much of a face to face manager. He preferred the buffer offered by phones and email. To be called in to see him was either very good or very bad, but the sinking feeling in my belly told me it was probably the latter.

"Okay, I'll be right over," I said, a small tremor evident in my voice.

As soon as I opened his door and saw Alan sitting calmly at the desk, that fake smile spread across his face like lumpy butter, my fears were confirmed.

"Sophia," he said, "please, sit down."

Ernest looked almost sheepish, like he felt guilty about leading me into an ambush. I tried to muster a little token anger but, truth be told, it didn't make much difference. If Alan himself had called, I would have had to go just the same.

I did as I was told, sliding into one of the guest chairs that faced the two of them. I suddenly felt cold, the kind of chill that seems to seep right into your bones. I was fairly sure I knew what was coming.

"I'm going to get straight to the point, Sophia," Alan said. He'd do most of the talking. Ernest was just here as a courtesy, most likely. "We need to have a talk about your performance recently."

I stayed silent. I figured I may as well make the conversation as difficult as possible for them.

"To be frank, it hasn't been up to par," he continued.

"In what way?" I asked. My voice was strangely quiet, almost dangerous. It seemed to catch him off guard.

"Well look, you must understand, we respect that work/life balance is important—"

"I'm not in the mood for your bloody jargon, Alan," I interrupted. "Just spit it out."

He rocked back a little in his chair, reflexively tugging at his suit jacket. At least I had him off balance. "Well, you've been arriving late, leaving early, taking long lunches, that kind of thing. Like I said, our goal isn't to work you to the bone, but this firm expects a certain level of commitment which at the moment you're not reaching."

In a way he was right. I had been lax lately, but the injustice of it ran like fire through my veins nonetheless. "I bet if you went back and looked at the last few years," I said, "you'd find I've billed more hours overall than any other associate on this floor. Probably more than you yourself."

He bristled. "I don't know about that. In any case, we all appreciate your dedication to the company. But you can't just rest on your laurels in this business. And the fact remains that your recent work has not be up to standard."

I hated how he kept using the word 'we', like he and Ernest were somehow cohorts in this little game. Ernest couldn't have looked more uncomfortable if he'd tried.

"So what is this? Am I being fired?"

Alan gave a little laugh, one that was as fake as his smile. "Now, let's not be hasty. We know as well as anyone that this job can get overwhelming at times. No, we just feel that your poor attendance, coupled with recent events, mean that—"

"Recent events?" I said, my tone somehow growing colder still.

He hesitated once more, but I didn't need him to fill in the blanks. I'd done so the moment I walked through the door.

"You mean with Jennifer?" I finished.

The dip in his expression confirmed it. I'd underestimated her. That little weasel really did want me gone, and between my recent lapses in attendance and my reaction to her prank, I'd handed her all the ammunition she needed to make it happen.

"She mentioned that you'd ignored some of her instructions, yes."

"Did you actually read what those instructions were?" I hissed.

Something in my voice must have jarred him to his senses, because he sat up straight in his chair, seeming to realise exactly who outranked who. "That's not really relevant," he said, his voice growing stern. "I trust Jennifer to do the right thing. What this comes down to, Sophia, is attitude. It's about showing you're a team player. Work is distributed the way it is for a reason. When people start going off on their own, things begin to break down. Jobs slip through the cracks. Everyone has their role to play. If you can't understand that, then maybe you don't belong at Bell and Little."

Ernest still hadn't said a word.

"And what do you think about all this, Ernest?" I said. I didn't really expect him to leap to my defence, but it was worth a shot.

He shifted in his chair. "I think that this isn't you, Sophia." He looked almost sad when he said it.

Alan cleared his throat. "What I was trying to say before is, we think maybe you should take a little time off. You've got a significant amount of leave built up. Why not use it to get your head right? There's no shame in saying you need a little R and R."

It was phrased as a suggestion, but that was just an illusion. I was being exiled. It might not have sounded like a big deal — a little holiday, then back to the grind — but I knew better. It was really a dismissal in disguise. That's how Alan liked to operate; ease someone out of the office quietly, and then let the axe fall. Much less messy that way. I could see it in Ernest's eyes. He knew I wasn't coming back.

Strangely, I wasn't really upset. I figured maybe that would come later. Instead, the numbness coating my insides just seemed to thicken. Truth be told, I'd expected it — or something similar — the moment I walked through the door.

I stood up. There was no point in arguing. "Okay."

"Okay?" Alan asked.

"Okay, I'll take some time."

And without another word I turned and left.

I snatched my bag from my office and then made straight for the lift. I desperately wanted to avoid talking to anyone. The wafer thin barricade was holding my emotions in check was ready to burst at any moment.

But of course, she couldn't resist her chance at a parting shot.

Leaning against an office doorway near the lifts, was Jennifer. She was chatting idly with the person inside, but there was no doubting her true purpose. She caught sight of me from across the room as I approached. There were no words, no taunts or mockery, just the smallest upturn of her lips and a victorious flash in her eyes. She'd won and she knew it.

I fled. I didn't even bother waiting for the lift, I just bolted down the fire escape as fast as I could. Everything was unravelling before my eyes.

I had to get away from that place.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

I'm not certain exactly how I got home. I think I took a taxi, although I can't be sure. All I remember was being overcome by a great wave of tiredness. The moment I walked through the door, I threw myself into bed, pulled the covers over my head, and slept.

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