Page 464 of Manhattan Bossholes

“Halfway?” he squeaked as he ran his finger along a chiffon sample. “Woman, that’s impressive!”

I shrugged. “I never miss a deadline, especially from someone like Clint. Although I’m getting a little worried given that it’s already three.”

“Well, allow me to throw you a lifeline,” he murmured, glancing up towards Clint’s office. “Go to the shared file called ‘inspo,’ then drill down to the file called ‘lewks.’ It’s hidden, on purpose.”

I chuckled as I navigated through the files, then gasped when I got to the one he told me to open. “Lavonte! Is this finished?”

He pursed his lips and shook his head. “Not one hundred percent. Clint assigned me the same competitive analysis a few months ago, then transitioned me off right as I was finishing up. I didn’t realize that he’d passed it on to you.” He gave me a little smile. “We gotta look out for each other, you know? Life around here ain’t easy. Consider it my welcome gift.”

“This is incredible, thank you!” I said, reaching out to grab his hand and give it a squeeze.

“It’s nothing. But you can bet I’m gonna call on you when my ass is in trouble, got it? You owe me.”

“Any time.” I smiled at him.

Even though the vibe in the department skewed prison yard, I felt like I was making a few allies. Rhea had tenure and a Teflon attitude, and Lavonte was good with secrets. Maybe I was going to be okay after all? If I focused on the positives—colleagues who seemed to be looking out for me and work that I loved—maybe I could get past the world’s worst boss? Within an hour I’d managed to combine Lavonte’s work with mine, and I sent a triumphant email to Clint with the document attached.

“Natalie,” Clint’s voice bounced off the walls seconds later. “Please come up here.”

Every eye shifted to me as I did the walk of shame across the room. Jacinda, the fit expert in giant, black-rimmed glasses, scrunched up her nose at me as I passed her workspace, a look that expressed both pity and solidarity. I climbed up the metal stairs, knowing no one was watching, yet everyone was.

“Yes, Clint?” I said warily. “I just sent you the analysis. Did you get it?”

His workspace was cluttered with boxes of forgotten samples and his wall was a mass of inspiration photos. Clint insisted that we keep our desks tidy, but he clearly didn’t follow his own rules. Frankly, I’d gotten the impression over the past week that he played up the idea of “messy creative genius” to hide the fact that he was actually about as creative as a rock—if rocks were loud, obnoxious, ineffective micromanagers.

He had his feet kicked up on his desk, his brown-and-white wingtips on top of a stack of work that someone had probably slaved over. Clint was always dressed impeccably, like every suit he owned was tailored just for him. But unlike our fearless leader James, whose suits made him look imposing, Clint dressed like he was the lead in a 1940s musical. The thick tweeds, plaids, vests, and bow ties made him seem deceptively approachable. I’d been lulled into thinking that the quirky bald man could actually be a mentor to me. It had only taken a few hours to learn better.

“Oh, did you?” He glanced towards his laptop. “Well, that’s not what this is about. Change of plans; I need you to submit a fall color scheme to me by Friday.”

My jaw dropped before I could remind myself to keep my face neutral. “That’s…that’s weeks’ worth of work. I’d need to access the archives and get trend analysis and talk with Connie and Adam to find out the creative direction we’re taking and⁠—”

“Yes, all of that.” Clint grinned and tipped his head at me. “I suppose you’d better get to work, then!”

“No…what I’m trying to tell you is that it’s basically impossible to finish by Friday.”

“Is that a fact?” he mused. “Well, given the shoddy designs you’ve submitted thus far, and the analysis you just sent that’s no doubt incomplete, I find it shocking that you’d say no to anything I assign you. Were you not told that you were hired on a contingent basis? That this is essentially a trial period?”

I steeled myself because I knew that he was wrong. “No, that’s not what my contract said, Clint. I was hired full time—no exception, no trial. I’m an official Branson employee.”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “It might look that way on paper, but I’ve been running things here for years now, so let me tell you how it actually goes. This entire company runs on what my department creates. What I say goes, and if I say that a new hire isn’t pulling her weight, well…” He wiggled his fingers in a prissy goodbye.

No. This couldn’t be happening. I knew I was doing a good job, so why did he have it out for me? I could not lose this job. Forget paying tuition—if I got fired, I wouldn’t be able to pay rent. I had no cushion in my savings account, and I’d quit my other part-time gigs, so if Clint fired me, I was fucked.

“But… I’ve been hitting my deliverables since I got here.” My fury faded to fear as I realized this tyrant held my future in his hands. “I don’t understand why you’re unhappy with my performance.”

“Well, it’s not the first time a James Branson hire has gone south,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “I’m usually the one who handpicks my team, so being forced into bringing you on is… Well, let’s call it an adjustment.”

“James knows what’s best for his company, and that’s why⁠—”

Clint’s eyes went wide with theatrical shock. “I can’t believe that you’re this uppity given your brief tenure with us,” he insisted. “Honestly, the more we talk the more obvious it is that you’re not a fit for Branson Designs, Natalie. Not on the design side, anyway. Maybe retail was the right place for you after all. It wouldn’t do to get…above yourself.”

My blood turned to ice when I realized what was happening. No way. I took a deep breath and tried to compose my thoughts, because as furious as I felt, I wasn’t going to let him push me into doing something stupid and saying something that would justify firing me.

I needed this job.

“You’ll have the fall color scheme by close of business tomorrow,” I managed. “You have my word.”

“Noon tomorrow,” he countered, smiling wickedly.