A Winter Dream - By Richard Paul Evans Page 0,40
Why was this happening to me?
Monday morning came too early. The sky was overcast as if mirroring the dread that filled my heart. I wasn’t at my desk for more than five minutes when my phone buzzed. “I want to see you in my office,” Peter said.
“All right,” I said, even though he’d already hung up.
I walked to his office. Kim looked at me sympathetically, a very bad sign.
“Peter paged me,” I said.
“Just go in,” she said softly.
I stepped inside his office. He sat behind his desk, staring at me with disgust. I didn’t know what Peter was going to do, but from his expression, I had a pretty good idea.
“I want your resignation.”
I looked at him a moment, then shook my head. “No. I didn’t do anything wrong.”
“Are you calling my fiancée a cheater or a liar?”
Pick one, I thought. I said nothing.
“And don’t tell me she came up to the room to seduce you.”
“She just had too much to drink, she . . .” I looked in his face. He was shaking with anger and the veins in his forehead bulged. “. . . Actually, that’s exactly what happened.”
He stood up, pushing his chair back in the motion. He gestured wildly with his finger. “If we weren’t in this office right now, I’d break you into a thousand pieces.”
“Then it’s a good thing we’re in this office,” I said coolly.
He glared at me for a moment, then said, “I can’t fire you. But I can have you demoted and transferred.”
“On what grounds,” I said. “Your fiancée attempting to seduce me?”
Peter pounded his desk hard, so hard I thought its glass cover would break. “You say that again and this office won’t protect you.”
“I’m not your enemy, Peter.”
His eyes narrowed. “And Brandi is?”
I didn’t answer him. Her unfaithfulness was clearly too much for him to handle. I sat down in the chair in front of his desk. “You need to calm down.”
“I didn’t tell you to sit.”
I just looked at him.
“I don’t need H.R. approval to transfer you. I’m sending you to our New York office—unless you decide to resign. Either works for me. Make your choice.”
I couldn’t believe that I was being banished again. Still, banishment or not, I couldn’t stay in Chicago. Potts would make my life miserable. I should say more miserable. I had lost April. I was already suffering.
“I’ll go to New York,” I said.
“Good riddance,” he said. He pulled his chair forward and sat.
“Whom do I report to?”
“Ask Kim. Now get out of my office.”
I walked to the door. I hesitated just a moment, then turned back and walked toward Peter’s desk.
“My father was big on self-defense,” I said. “He insisted that all of his boys be able to take care of themselves. I have two black belts and I used to be ranked nationally. When I was nineteen, I competed in an open ultimate fighting competition on a dare and won.
“For the record, you swing like an eight-year-old boy. The only reason I didn’t beat you to a pulp on Friday is because I know what it’s like to have the woman you love hurt you.”
Peter just stared at me.
“You’re a bully, Potts. And there are few things in this world more satisfying than watching a bully get his comeuppance. So, if you still want to ‘break me into a thousand pieces,’ come and get me. And don’t use the office excuse, I won’t tell anyone. Except to get you some help.”
He knew I was telling the truth. I could tell by the fear in his eyes.
After a moment I slowly shook my head. “I thought so. Most bullies are cowards. You’re a coward, Potts. And a fool. You’ll eventually get yours. And you’ll learn the truth about Brandi, no matter how many messengers you kill. Good luck with that.”
He didn’t say a word as I walked out of his office.
CHAPTER
Twenty-two
I dreamt I woke in a train. Not only did not I know where it was going, I didn’t even know where in the world I was. I got off at the first stop in what appeared to be a small, third world country. Asia? South America? I wasn’t sure. I asked for a ticket to Colorado, but the person at the ticket counter couldn’t understand me.
I remember saying, “I think I’m lost.”
Joseph Jacobson’s Diary
The H.R. people at Burnett were efficient at moving their people, and Wednesday morning, just a week before Christmas, I was on a flight to LaGuardia. Then again, maybe