Inappropriate by Vi Keeland
Chapter 3
Ireland
Harold Bickman is such an asshole.
Though I loved my job, my boss was the one thing I wouldn’t miss. The man was a dirt bag. He hadn’t been a fan of mine almost from the very beginning, ever since I’d found out he hired my male counterpart—who had less experience than me and less time with the company—with a salary of twenty grand more than mine. I’d brought it to his attention in a professional manner, and he’d proceeded to explain that there were pros and cons to every employee and every position. He’d said I shouldn’t worry, that I’d see benefits Jack Dorphman didn’t have someday soon—like when I took advantage of the great maternity leave policy the company had.
I’d filed a formal complaint about my salary with Human Resources and gotten equivalent pay. But there was no going back from what Harold Bickman considered treason on my part. We’d found a way to work together without too much friction—mostly by avoidance, though his email today proved once again what a colossal jerk he was. And something in my gut made me think he’d had a hand in the station getting ahold of that topless beach video. Lord knows the man wanted to give my job to Siren Eckert bad enough.
Side note, Siren is her real name, not her stage name. What were her parents thinking? Anyway…
Harold Bickman, a fifty-four-year-old, overweight, balding man who smelled like day-old cheese, wasn’t the brightest bulb in the bunch when it came to women. I bet he thought he had a chance with Siren—the twenty-four-year-old former Miss Seattle runner-up—just because she batted her eyelashes at him. I bet he also thought I would follow the directions in his email.
Dear Ms. Richardson,
In light of the unfortunate events and your recent departure from Broadcast Media, I have scheduled you to visit the office at 10 a.m. on Thursday, June 29th to collect your belongings. I trust you will conduct yourself professionally during your visit. As your employee identification and building card have been deactivated, you will need to check in at the security desk.
Regards,
H. Bickman
Seriously? I wanted to crawl through my laptop and strangle the man. It made me cringe to think that he might’ve viewed the “unfortunate events.” He probably jerked off while watching the twenty-two-second glimpse of topless women, right before walking over to Siren and offering her my job.
God, the one good thing about getting fired was that I’d finally get to tell that man what I thought about him on Thursday. Although, I wouldn’t put it past the wimp to be MIA when I came to “collect my belongings.”
I sighed and hit the trashcan icon to get rid of Harold once and for all. But just as I was about to close my laptop, I saw another new email waiting. This one from Grant Lexington. Curious, I immediately clicked to open.
Dear Ms. Richardson,
After further review of your file, I’ve determined the decision to terminate your employment was warranted. However, I’ll reach out to your immediate supervisor and suggest he provide you with a neutral letter of recommendation based on your performance.
Sincerely,
Grant Lexington
Great, just great—leave it up to Harold to give me something neutral. I probably should have shut my laptop and cooled off. But the last forty-eight hours had brought me to a boiling point. So I typed back, not bothering with the formality of a greeting or anything.
Great. Harold Bickman hates women almost as much as he hates foot tapping. Oh…unless he thinks he has a chance to bang you—like he does my replacement. Thanks for nothing.
***
Two days later, on Thursday morning, I was no less bitter when I arrived at the office. I was, however, almost forty-five minutes early since I had no idea how long it took to get to the office during rush-hour traffic. The roads were always empty when I left for work at four-thirty in the morning. Since I wouldn’t put it past Bickman not to allow me in early, I decided to go next door to the coffee shop. It would give me a chance to mentally prepare for cleaning out my desk, and dealing with him, too.
I ordered a decaf, since my nerves were shot already, and went to sit at a corner table. Whenever I was feeling stressed, I watched Instagram video clips from the Ellen show. They always cracked me up, and that, in turn, helped me relax. I clicked on a funny clip where Billie Eilish scared Melissa McCarthy, and I laughed out loud. Looking up from my phone when it ended, I was caught off guard to find a man standing next to me.
“Do you mind if I share your table?”
I looked him up and down. Tall, gorgeous, expensive suit…probably not a serial killer. Then again, my ex always had perfectly tailored suits, too.
I squinted. “Why?”
The man looked to his left and then his right. When his greenish gray eyes returned to meet mine, I thought I detected the slightest twitch at the left corner of his lip. “Because all of the other seats are taken.”
I surveyed the room. Oh. Shit. They were all taken now. Lifting my purse off the table, I nodded. “Sorry. I didn’t realize the place had filled up. I thought… Well, never mind. Please, help yourself.”
That lip made the slightest twitch again. Did he have a tic, or was I amusing him?
“I said Excuse me, but you didn’t seem to hear. You were engrossed in what you were doing.”
“Oh. Yeah. Lots of work. Busy, busy.” I clicked to close YouTube and opened up my email.
The handsome guy unbuttoned his suit jacket and sat down in the seat across from me. He lifted his coffee cup to his lips. “The one with Will is my personal favorite.”
My brows furrowed.
He smirked. “Smith. On Ellen. I couldn’t help but notice what you were watching. You were smiling. You have a beautiful smile, by the way.”
I felt my cheeks heat, but not because of the compliment. I rolled my eyes. “So I lied. I wasn’t working. You didn’t have to call me out on it.”
His little smirk turned into a full-blown grin, yet there was still something very cocky about it.
“Did anyone ever tell you that you have an arrogant smile?” I asked.
“No. But then again, I haven’t seemed to use it too much the last few years.”
I tilted my head. “That’s a shame.”
His eyes roamed over my face. “So why did you lie about working?”
“Honestly?”
“Sure. Let’s try that route.”
I sighed. “It was a gut reaction. I just recently lost my job, and I don’t know… I guess I felt like a loser sitting here watching Ellen clips.”
“What do you do for a living?”
“I’m a newscaster for Lexington Industries—or at least I was until a few days ago. I did the early-morning segment.”
Mr. Doesn’t Smile Often didn’t respond the way most people did when I told them I was on TV. They usually raised their brows and had a million questions. But it sounded way more glamorous than it was. Yet the man across the table didn’t seem impressed. Or if he was, he didn’t show it. Which I found curious.
“And what do you do that you wear a fancy suit and yet can sit in a coffee shop so leisurely at…” I looked at the time on my phone. “…nine forty-five in the morning?”
That little twitch was back. He seemed to like my sarcasm.
“I’m the CEO of a company.”
“Impressive.”
“Not really. It’s a family business. So it’s not like I started at the bottom.”
“Nepotism.” I sipped my coffee. “You’re right. I’m a lot less impressed now.”
He smiled again. If what he’d said about not doing it often was really true, it was a damn shame…because those full lips and that cocky smile could melt hearts and win poker games.
“So tell me about getting fired,” he said. “That is, if you don’t have to get back to all that work you were doing on your phone.”
I chuckled. “It’s a long story. But I did something I thought was harmless, and it turned out to be in violation of the company’s policy.”
“And you’re an otherwise good employee?”
“Yes, I worked my butt off for more than nine years to get where I was.”
He studied me and sipped his coffee some more. “Have you tried talking to your boss?”
“My boss has wanted me gone for years—ever since I complained that he hired my male counterpart for more money than I was being paid.” Which reminded me, I needed to get to the office to see that asshole boss. “I should get going. Said boss is waiting for me to clean out my desk.”
Mr. CEO rubbed his chin. “Would you mind if I offered you a little advice? I’ve dealt with a lot of employment issues.”
“Sure.” I shrugged. “Can’t hurt.”
“Retaliation for reporting an illegal gender pay gap is illegal. I suggest you make an appointment with the Human Resources department and lay out your support for that claim. Sounds to me like there should be an investigation, and your boss might be the one who should be in here watching Ellen videos.”
Huh. Scott hadn’t mentioned that retaliation was illegal when I’d told him what happened. But that didn’t surprise me. He was too busy lecturing me for being topless on the beach.
I stood. “Thank you. Maybe I’ll do that.”
The handsome man rose from his chair. He stared at me, almost looking like he wanted to say more, but had to deliberate over his words. I waited until it got awkward.
“Umm… It was nice meeting you,” I said.
He nodded. “Likewise.”
I started to walk away, and he stopped me by speaking again. “Would you…want to have lunch later? You can’t very well give me the excuse that you’re too busy now that I know you’re unemployed.”
I smiled. “Thanks. But I don’t think so.”
Mr. CEO nodded and sat back down.
I walked out of the coffee shop, not quite sure why I’d said no. Of course there was stranger danger and all. But meeting him for lunch in a public place wouldn’t be any more dangerous than going out with a guy I met at a bar. And I’d done that before. If I were being honest, something about the guy intimidated me—not unlike how I’d felt when Scott and I first got together. He was just too good-looking and too successful and, well, I guess I felt gun shy about the type.
But that was just stupid. The man was seriously sexy, and my morning was going to be shitty enough. Why not go out to lunch and take a chance?
I halted in place on the street, causing the person behind me to bang into my back. “Sorry,” I said.
The guy made a face and walked around me. I rushed back to the coffee shop and opened the door. The CEO was standing and picked up his cup like he was about to leave.
“Hey, Mr. CEO, you’re not a serial killer, right?”
His brows jumped. “No. Not a serial killer.”
“Okay. Then I changed my mind. I’ll have lunch with you.”
“Well, now I’m glad I didn’t go on that rampage after all.”
I chuckled and dug into my purse for my phone. “Put your number in. I’ll text you my contact info.”
He typed into my cell, and I immediately sent him my contact information. When his phone buzzed in his hand, he looked down. “Ireland. Beautiful name. Fitting.”
I looked down at my own phone, but he hadn’t entered a name. “CEO? You’re not going to tell me your name.”
“Figured I’d keep you curious until lunch.”
“Hmmm… Okay. But I’m guessing you have some sort of uppity CEO name that gets passed down, along with a trust fund.”
He chuckled. “I’m glad I stopped in for coffee today.”
I smiled. “Me too. I’ll text you later about lunch.”
He nodded. “I’m looking forward to it, Ireland.”
I left the coffee shop and headed for the office in a much better mood than I’d started with. Maybe today wouldn’t be so bad after all…
***
“Seriously? You couldn’t even have her wait until I’d cleaned out my desk?”
Our office space was a large, open square with cubicles in the middle and private, fishbowl-type glass offices lining the perimeter. Security had escorted me to Bickman’s office like I was a prisoner, and now I could see Siren on the other side of the large space, moving boxes from her cubicle into my office.
Bickman yanked on his belt buckle and pulled his pants from beneath his belly to up and over it. “Don’t cause a scene, or I’ll pack up your crap for you.”
I scowled and began to tap my foot as I spoke. “I hope you at least gave her pay parity with a male of the same education and experience. Oh wait…that might be hard since a man with her qualifications works in the mail room still.”
He pushed a few buttons on his phone and looked across at my office as he spoke on speakerphone. “Ireland is here to clean out her office. You might want to give her some space and finish setting up your new office when she’s done.”
“Yes, Mr. Bickman.”
I rolled my eyes. Yes, Mr. Bickman.
The asshole waved his hand, dismissing me to go do what I needed to do. “Don’t take too long.”
Disgusted, I turned to walk out of his office and then stopped and backed up. I hadn’t decided if I was going to go to HR about him firing me for retaliation. I really didn’t have any proof—I couldn’t show that Bickman was the one who’d surfaced the video that was my reason for being fired. And I knew threatening wouldn’t bother him at all. Still, I needed to make him feel like shit, so I could at least feel better.
I stepped back into his office and quietly closed the door behind me, turning to say one last thing.
“You’ve been looking for a reason to fire me for years. But it’s hard to justify when I’ve been a model employee, and our ratings have gone up consistently since I joined the show. Finally you found a reason. I don’t know how you did it, but I know you were behind Human Resources getting ahold of that video. Tell me, did you keep a copy for yourself? I hope you did, because that’ll be the only piece of ass you’ll ever see from this office. You certainly won’t be seeing any skin from the unqualified, barely-out-of-high-school girl you gave my job to. You think that will make her like you, but she’s busy banging that new intern from advertising. Oh, and remember Marge Wilson—the divorced, middle-aged temp you got drunk at the office Christmas party a few years back? The one you think no one knows you went home with?” I smiled and held up my pinky, waving it in the air. “Well, we all know. Her nickname for you was Inchworm.”
I opened the door, took a deep breath, and headed over to clean out nine years of my life.
Literally three minutes later, Security was at my office door, and Bickman stood right behind them.
I put the last of my things from the top drawer into a box and glowered at him. “I’m not done yet.”
“You’ve had long enough. We have work to do around here.”
I mumbled under my breath and opened the second drawer to continue packing. “God, you’re such an asshole, Inchworm.”
Apparently, I wasn’t very good at mumbling. Bickman’s face turned red, and he pointed toward the exit. “Out! Get out.”
I yanked the second drawer off the track and unceremoniously dumped the contents into my box. Then I did the same thing for two others and tossed the empty drawers onto the guest chairs on the other side of my desk. I grabbed the framed pictures that sat on my desk and my degree off the wall and jammed it all into the box.
The two uniformed security guards he’d summoned looked completely uncomfortable.
I smiled at one sadly. “I’ll leave so you don’t have to deal with this jerk.”
The guards followed me to the elevator bank and got into the car with me. Bickman at least had enough common sense to take a different elevator. Though when we stepped out on the lobby level, he exited the car next to us.
I shook my head and kept walking. “I think the two security guards are enough. You don’t need to escort me, Bickman.”
He kept his distance but followed behind, nonetheless. When I got to the main lobby area, there were a lot of people standing around. So I decided to go out with a bang. I stopped and turned around to face Bickman. Setting my heavy box on the floor in front of me, I pointed my finger at him and began to shout at the top of my lungs. “This man uses his position to try to take advantage of women. He just fired me and gave my job to some young girl because he thinks she might spread her legs to say thank you. I guess he isn’t familiar with the #MeToo movement.”
Bickman rushed forward and grabbed my elbow. I yanked it out of his hand.
“Don’t touch me.”
He took a few steps back when he realized people were watching and turned to scurry back to the elevator bank.
I needed to get the hell out of here before Security called the actual cops. So I took a deep, cleansing breath, lifted my box back up, and held my chin high as I marched toward the glass doors. Only…a man was walking directly in my path, heading right toward me with rapid, long strides. My steps faltered as I took in his face. His very pissed-off face.
“Keep your damn hands to yourself,” he barked over my shoulder at Bickman.
Mr. CEO.
Great. Just great. The first guy I’d met in months that I was actually a little interested in, and he had to walk into my building just as I was making a scene and acting like a crazy person. The timing couldn’t have been worse. Then again, it went with the rest of my shitty day.
The stress of the last few days must have gotten to me, and I cracked. I started laughing like a nutjob. At first it was a burst of laughter, but it turned into a snort, followed by a belly laugh that made me sound like I’d lost my mind. I tried to cover my mouth and stop, but my words came out between hysterics. “Of course I had to run into you here. I swear, I’m not really like this. It’s just been a really bad few days.”
CEO continued to stare over my shoulder. The look on his face was positively lethal—jaw tight, muscles flexing in his cheek, and his nostrils flaring like a bull’s. I turned to follow his line of sight and saw Bickman walking back toward us instead of away.
I sighed, knowing the scene wasn’t over yet, and shut my eyes. “I’ll understand why you don’t call me for lunch.”
The man’s eyes flickered to me, then Bickman, and then back to me once again. “Actually, I’d still love to take you to lunch. But I’m guessing you’re about to change your mind.”
