it up, buttercup. You’ll be fine.”
“Wait, you’ve already accepted the job? What did Dad say about it?” Tripp sounded frantic.
“Your father was pleased. He actually knows the fellow that I’ll be working with. He thinks it’s a great opportunity.” Em resisted the urge to stomp her foot and add a snotty “So there!”
Tripp clenched his jaw. “Since you’ve got this fancy new job, I suppose you’re going to want to move into a fancy new house and get a fancy new boyfriend.”
“Actually, I don’t want to move into a fancy new house, I want to move into a fancy old house. I don’t want to move into a soulless condo or some suburban McMansion. There’s this converted Victorian that I’d like to take a look at. And as far as ‘fancy new boyfriends’ go, you, Tripp, are plenty fancy. Heaven save me from any man that’s fancier than you.” Em shuddered.
This was the same argument that they had been having for the past five years or so and it was getting very tiresome. Maybe it was time for a clean break. At 42, Em had never lived by herself; she’d always had roommates or boyfriends.
Tripp rolled his eyes. “We don’t need a big place, Em, and certainly not as big as a Victorian.”
“But it’s just the top floor. It’s been divided into apartments. You should see the yard, Tripp. The house sits on a big wooded lot; it’s nice and private and has lots of character.”
“You mean it’s a dump that’s surrounded by lots of trees, Em. You think you can live without central air conditioning and lots of electrical outlets for your computers and stereo equipment? I doubt it. And besides, it’s not like we need to have a yard for children.”
And there it was.
“That’s not fair, Tripp,” Em said quietly. “That’s not fair at all.”
They stared angrily at each other until Em left the room. Em’s cat, Beauregard, hopped up on the kitchen cabinet and glared at Tripp.
“What the fuck are you looking at, cat?” Tripp pushed the cat off the counter and stormed out the door.
*****
Mid-October
Tripp stormed into Em’s shared office. Tom scurried out of the office, citing the urgent need to dust the servers.
“What in the hell were you thinking, Em, filing a complaint with HR about Robertson without going through the proper channels?”
“According to the HR manual, I only needed to have one conversation with my supervisor about said questionable behavior, and I did, so I escalated.”
“Now, Em...” Tripp began, but she held up her hand.
“No, Tripp. Don’t ‘now, Em,’ me. I’ve talked to you many, many times about Robertson’s rude and lewd remarks, about him calling me into his office to ‘see about an issue with a video deposition’ that turned out to be some sort of ridiculous office porno, and about his general harassment. Yesterday after work, he cornered me and put his hands on me when I said I wouldn’t come to his house to ‘check out his personal equipment’.”
“He’s 62 years old, Em! He has no idea about technology.”
“He grabbed my boobs, Tripp! With both hands, like he was honking them! And his pants were unzipped!”
“He’s got prostate problems. He’s always in the john. He probably just didn’t mind his zipper.”
“Okay, Tripp, this? This is why I went to HR. I don’t need you excusing his bad behavior because he looks the other way when you screw up.”
“When I screw up? You were the one who ordered all the wrong equipment for the Williams project; equipment that, by the way, can’t be returned.”
“And who was the person that filled out the spec documents, Tripp? Hm? And who was the person that insisted we go with this new vendor, the vendor that hadn’t gone through the official approval process but amazingly ended up on the approved vendor list?”
Tripp fisted his hair in his hands. God, Em infuriated him. Always asking questions, always looking deeper into things. She needed to just do what her supervisor told
“Wait, you’ve already accepted the job? What did Dad say about it?” Tripp sounded frantic.
“Your father was pleased. He actually knows the fellow that I’ll be working with. He thinks it’s a great opportunity.” Em resisted the urge to stomp her foot and add a snotty “So there!”
Tripp clenched his jaw. “Since you’ve got this fancy new job, I suppose you’re going to want to move into a fancy new house and get a fancy new boyfriend.”
“Actually, I don’t want to move into a fancy new house, I want to move into a fancy old house. I don’t want to move into a soulless condo or some suburban McMansion. There’s this converted Victorian that I’d like to take a look at. And as far as ‘fancy new boyfriends’ go, you, Tripp, are plenty fancy. Heaven save me from any man that’s fancier than you.” Em shuddered.
This was the same argument that they had been having for the past five years or so and it was getting very tiresome. Maybe it was time for a clean break. At 42, Em had never lived by herself; she’d always had roommates or boyfriends.
Tripp rolled his eyes. “We don’t need a big place, Em, and certainly not as big as a Victorian.”
“But it’s just the top floor. It’s been divided into apartments. You should see the yard, Tripp. The house sits on a big wooded lot; it’s nice and private and has lots of character.”
“You mean it’s a dump that’s surrounded by lots of trees, Em. You think you can live without central air conditioning and lots of electrical outlets for your computers and stereo equipment? I doubt it. And besides, it’s not like we need to have a yard for children.”
And there it was.
“That’s not fair, Tripp,” Em said quietly. “That’s not fair at all.”
They stared angrily at each other until Em left the room. Em’s cat, Beauregard, hopped up on the kitchen cabinet and glared at Tripp.
“What the fuck are you looking at, cat?” Tripp pushed the cat off the counter and stormed out the door.
*****
Mid-October
Tripp stormed into Em’s shared office. Tom scurried out of the office, citing the urgent need to dust the servers.
“What in the hell were you thinking, Em, filing a complaint with HR about Robertson without going through the proper channels?”
“According to the HR manual, I only needed to have one conversation with my supervisor about said questionable behavior, and I did, so I escalated.”
“Now, Em...” Tripp began, but she held up her hand.
“No, Tripp. Don’t ‘now, Em,’ me. I’ve talked to you many, many times about Robertson’s rude and lewd remarks, about him calling me into his office to ‘see about an issue with a video deposition’ that turned out to be some sort of ridiculous office porno, and about his general harassment. Yesterday after work, he cornered me and put his hands on me when I said I wouldn’t come to his house to ‘check out his personal equipment’.”
“He’s 62 years old, Em! He has no idea about technology.”
“He grabbed my boobs, Tripp! With both hands, like he was honking them! And his pants were unzipped!”
“He’s got prostate problems. He’s always in the john. He probably just didn’t mind his zipper.”
“Okay, Tripp, this? This is why I went to HR. I don’t need you excusing his bad behavior because he looks the other way when you screw up.”
“When I screw up? You were the one who ordered all the wrong equipment for the Williams project; equipment that, by the way, can’t be returned.”
“And who was the person that filled out the spec documents, Tripp? Hm? And who was the person that insisted we go with this new vendor, the vendor that hadn’t gone through the official approval process but amazingly ended up on the approved vendor list?”
Tripp fisted his hair in his hands. God, Em infuriated him. Always asking questions, always looking deeper into things. She needed to just do what her supervisor told
Similar Books
My October
Claire Holden Rothman
This Battle Lord's Quest
Linda Mooney
The Arctic Code
Matthew J. Kirby
Little Girl Lost
Tristan J. Tarwater
Dead Room Farce
Simon Brett
Up in Smoke
Alice Brown
Pilgrim’s Rest
Patricia Wentworth
The Berlin Conspiracy
Tom Gabbay
The Boy Who Plaited Manes
Nancy Springer
