August

"Mary, would you like another coffee?"

"Sure, Eva. Hey, I like you a whole lot more since you started dating that Sven guy," Mary pointed out.

"Eh?"

"Yeah, I really like this new side of you. You're nicer."

"I still have my bite, which is worse than my bark." I swiveled my chair and got up to grab two cups of coffee-one for me and one for the lovely Mary, who wore a gorgeous Diane von Furstenberg wrap dress, delightfully adorned with an array of butterflies against the black print.

Her dress matched my floaty, tangerine Eloise silk print dress, by the same said designer. Mary became a loyal ally at work, and a friend. I tried to avoid getting personal with business, but it was becoming a challenge, as I frequently bore witness to Mary and my brother, Jack, cozying up at family barbecues.

Yep, you guessed right. They were officially dating, thanks to me, apparently. I had forgotten to pick Mary up for a work golf tournament, so I called Jack, who came to the rescue, as he was running late.

When Mary and Jack arrived at the golf course about half an hour late, I expected her to be fuming with fury.

Nope, she was a glossy eyed diminutive star twinkling around my brother, who was her bedazzling, luminous moon on a dark night. Together, they were Vincent van Gogh's The Starry Night and the world was their canvas.

Marissa, my favorite office gossip (can you tell the sarcasm?) who hit on Jack when he first started at Hudson Engineering, had no shame in declaring her disappointment that he was no longer single.

However, when I surprised her with a calendar featuring twelve hunky nearly nude male firefighters, I came close to wiping some drool off her soaking chin. That particular calendar, which raised funds for the children's burns units in hospitals, sold out like hot cakes on a chilly winter day.

That act of kindness alone bought me an ally in a political shitstorm that was about to hit the fan. Nothing I did in the office was gratis-this, my dears, was the world of office politics.

"Mary, I'll grab us some coffee while we're waiting for Larry and the other managers for the Emder project," I ascertained, as I exited the immaculately clean meeting room.

Larry was usually late for meetings. However, here's the thing-if I was late at least once, which rarely happened, he would throw a racket and aim at me with snide comments on my tardiness. In retaliation, I would curtly remind Larry of his hypocrisy. Larry was quick to throw his colleagues under a bus to deflect his weaknesses, so he did not deserve politeness.

Besides, this was the business of oil and gas engineering, where I worked with former roughnecks (Larry was not one). A roughneck is a common industry term that refers to men and women who have worked on an oil rig, either onshore or offshore. My roughneck colleagues now led their own teams with their wealth of knowledge and experience. You can't buy the type of education that these managers had with a fancy university degree.

They, by far, outshone Larry when it came to making the right decisions for customers' challenges. They also swore like seasoned sailors and spoke with a certain directness that was not for the faint hearted.

By the time I came back with the coffees, Larry was there with a select group of engineering heads who were responsible for ensuring that the project succeeded. These weren't my dear roughneck buddies, but an elite bunch of ex-private school boys who purposely excluded me from group lunches at the elite Tattersalls Club downtown. Why? I didn't have a dick between my legs.

Mary was sitting uncomfortably, with raised eyebrows and pursed lips, as Larry joked.

"You heard that Eva's dating someone? I'm frankly surprised because that little bitch's vagina has fangs! She's a fucking cunt," Larry boasted, as a roar of laughter erupted from the managers in the room.

"Larry, this is workplace harass-" Mary started spluttering words in my defense.

"YOU! NOW! OUTSIDE!" I exploded at Larry, whose eyes rounded like tennis balls. If the hairs of his head could stand out of shock, they would be doing just that. Or dropping off his receding hairline.

"The rest of you-I'll deal with you later. This will be a case for Kurt," I coldly ordered the management team. I wore a chilling mask of icy indifference, but the men knew that I meant serious business.

Kurt Schwartz was our human resources director, and he wasn't the type of person you would want to mess with. When we started the Emder project, I worked closely with Kurt to pick the management team for the work that was required. We picked those who could sell sand for a minimum of twice the price in the Sahara desert. We also weeded out the staff who did not meet performance standards.

Therefore, the team had every reason to be shitting their pants at that moment. One word was all it took for me to speak with Kurt, who had the power to take any of the managers off the project and transfer them either to a career-stifling unit or an undesirable geographic location.

Human resource managers weren't there to be nice people. They were there to make sure that the company had people with the right capabilities, competencies, skills and attitudes.

"What the fuck was that, Larry?" I interrogated the rat outside the closed meeting room.

"Eva, you completely misunderstood the situation," he responded with a nervous laugh and a grin that deserved to be whacked with a baseball bat, enough to break his jaw.

"No, Larry. I misunderstood nothing. You insult me and undermine my position, while subjecting another woman to great discomfort. These men look up to you as their leader, and you behaved like a high school jockstrap," I rebuked.

"On top of that, you made a derogatory statement about my vagina and dropped the C-bomb with reference to the woman standing here now. You've broken the workplace health and safety code on respect and equality," I continued.

"Shit, Eva, it was just a joke," Larry objected.

"No, Larry. I can take jokes. Heck, I love jokes! Even Gary knows that. But this one goes beyond a mindless joke."

I step forward and look at Larry up and down. I wasn't tall, but I knew how to use body language to seem taller in conflicting situations, such as that particular moment, while Larry stepped back and cowered.

"Eva... I'm sorry. I really am," a deflated Larry was forced to admit.

I stared at him for another ten seconds, before giving him a response. He wiped his weary brow and rubbed his thinning hair.

"You tell it to me in front of the boys in that room. You're going to apologize in front of the team. You also owe them an apology for fucking up as a company leader. Lastly, you owe Mary an apology for making her incredibly uncomfortable."

***

About an hour later, after Larry made his public apologies in the meeting room, Walter Mitchell, a former roughneck who had over twenty-seven years of experience in the business, offered to buy me lunch.

"We all heard what happened. We're shaking our heads, mate. These fucking morons don't deserve you." Walter bent his head in disappointment.

"Thanks, Walt," I replied.

"Bloody fuckers," he muttered, shaking his head.

At around one p.m. I heard a knock on my door, while furiously typing an email about the incident to Kurt, copying in Gary.

"Come in," I answered, as my eyes remained on the screen and my fingers continued typing.

"Eva Juliette King," a familiar voice resonated behind me.

"Derek!!! Wow!" I turned my chair, got up and walked over to my former boss, giving him a friendly hug, which was reciprocated. Only then, had I noticed that Kurt stood behind Derek, wearing a mask of stoicism.

"EJ, being in the global management team suits you," Derek proudly proclaimed. He was my mentor, and in many ways he was also the father I never had.

"I miss you, man! I wish you and I were working on the Emder project together," I admitted, while furrowing my eyebrows.

"Well, that's the thing. I want to talk to you about some things I've heard about the Emder project, including an incident that occurred with Larry today. Can I take a seat?" Derek asked.

"Sure." I had two spare seats and a small coffee table in my office, so I directed both men to take a seat.

"Kurt, I was about to send you an email about this incident," I stated.

"I've already heard. Frankly, I've heard enough and Gary has asked me to personally address the matter with you," he affirmed.

"Oh. Who told you?" I asked.

"That's confidential," Kurt replied, while Derek nodded.

"What matters is that this person has kept a record on a number of incidences with regard to Larry, and it's not looking good. Your case is not an isolated incident, but it may be the straw needed to break the camel's back. We need to talk. You've got time?" Kurt continued.

"EJ, you are in a position where you have the power to make a change," Derek revealed, with a hint of a smile.

***

About an hour later, I shook hands with Kurt and smiled at Derek as they left my office.

Long story short, let's just say that in the next few months, Larry would be strategically ousted into a unit where he would report directly to a wonderfully frightening woman who made Miranda Priestly, played by Meryl Streep, from The Devil Wears Prada resemble a Care Bear. That unit was located in a place far, far away from headquarters.

In exchange, Walt Mitchell would be stepping into Larry's shoes. Walt was my recommendation, as he was an honest man who was a star with meeting sales objectives, and he knew his shit. He understood customers' challenges like the back of his hand, based on his firsthand experience working on wells both onshore and offshore.

As I walked out of the office building after work that day, I heard Marissa's shrill voice call out my name.

"Marissa? I turned around to face the petite blonde.

"Eva, I heard what happened, and I just want to let you know that it's not the first time Larry pulled something like this," she explained.

"Oh?"

"Let's just say that he's a filthy pig."

"Marissa, did he do something to you?" I enquired, extracting a slow nod and a long face from Marissa.

"Let's just say that after I overheard the news, I couldn't hold back, so I talked to Kurt. Mary came with me, and so did Katy. They had a few things to report. Plus, I've got my trusty notebook with dates, times, and places recorded." Marissa released a sly, smug smile.

I stood there, like a gobsmacked mullet, not knowing what to say. It turned out that the gossip queen was my dearest ally who shared a common enemy.

"Thank you, Marissa," I said.

"Hey, I should be thanking you for Mr. January. Oh, and Mr. March and Mr. July," Marissa beamed, as I chuckled.

"Marissa, do you have an hour to spare? Would you like to have dinner with me?" I offered.

"Don't you have a sexy Norwegian waiting for you tonight?" Marissa interrogated.

"Yes, but we have no dinner plans, and he can cook for himself. I'll call him and tell him that I'm taking my friend, the amazing Marissa, for dinner!"

"Where to?" Marissa asked.

"Tattersalls Club."

A/N: This chapter is dedicated to anyone who's dealt with hateful and hurtful comments. Y'all are fighters like Muhammad Ali, one of the greatest boxers the world has seen (shown in the media box at the top of the chapter).

Don't let the haters steal your light. Okay? Y'all promise me now, or I'll turn up at your doorstep with my smelly cat.

Well, not really.

However, if anyone ever gives you a hard time, keep in mind the legendary pugilist's words:

Float like a butterfly, sting like a bee...

- Muhammad Ali

Sven had to wait, as there were a few things I had to get off my chest about some shit that some of us may have or may possibly encounter in our careers, as well as the importance of having allies who support us, and the amazing power of every woman at work, in college, in class, or where ever you are.

The next chapter will feature our sexy Viking to make up for the crap that Larry pulled. I even added the gold filigree above to sweeten the deal. ;)

Oh, and listen to bad guy by Billie Eilish. No pity parties.