Chain Reaction 1.34: Showdown

Graham

     My boss requests my presence in her office. Having a hunch that I know what this is about, I obey her summons.
     As I walk into her office, I see her standing at her window, looking at the city, with her back stiff, her shoulders squared, and her head looking straight.
     "Yes?" I ask.
     "Close the door behind you," she snaps. I do as asked.

      Hearing the door click closed, she spins around, points to her desk, and snarls a question. "What the hell is this?"
     I look at the paper on her desk and decide to get smart. "That's a transfer request form." Took it long enough to reach you!
     "I know what it is, Graham!" Her arm lowers, and she shoots me with a look.
     I can't help myself and ask the obvious question. "Then why did you ask?"
     "Because I want you to tell me what it means!" Her face screws up angrily, and for the billionth time, I wonder why the plum I ever thought I loved this woman.

     I give her a deadpan look and reply, "It means I'm requesting to move to another department."
     "Why is this the first I've heard of it?" she asks in a snippy way.
     "Well, just look at you. How do you think you'd react to me coming and telling you this before submitting it?" A corner of my mouth goes up into a smirk.
     "I'd react just like this; you're right about that. However, you'd have saved HR some paperwork. I'm not signing it." She folds her arms and looks at me defiantly.

      Baited, my smirk turns to a furious scowl. "Oh, yes, you will."
      "Don't forget who's the boss here, 'Agent' Taylor," she reminds me in a snide voice, saying agent like it's a joke.
      I pull out my trump card. "Yes, wouldn't your supervisor love to hear about how you've been misusing government funds to further your own agenda against Mortimer Goth?"

     Her anger explodes. "How dare you! I got you this job! Do you honestly think you were in the least bit qualified for this line of work? I came to you for help."
     Oh no you don't! You're not playing the pitiful victim card with me! I think in response to her continued devastation from her father's suicide, what she implied with her last statement.
      I strike back. "I was hired with no knowledge that that's what I signed up for. No, I wasn't the most qualified person, but I sure as hell am now! I refuse to have anything more to do with this. I'm transferring to a different department or Smathers and me will have to have a little chat." Smathers is her boss.
      "Blackmail! This is the thanks I get for getting you this job, for confiding in you about something I'd hoped you'd understand!" Her hands clench, and her face turns red.
      "Oh, I understand that you want revenge, but that doesn't give you the right to do what you're doing."

      "Don't you talk to me about rights!" she snaps. "I'm not misusing. I'm tracking a known criminal."
      "Yet you refuse to bring up any charges against him." I hate defending any Goth, but I must prove my point.
      "Don't be stupid. If I charge him with the minor offenses I have now, his lawyers would shred them to bits. I need something bigger. That's where you're supposed to come in!"
      "I'm not going to play your game, Courtney. I refuse to be bait."
      She laughs maniacally. "You think you're the bait?"
      My back stiffens, and my blood turns cold. "What are you talking about?"
      She smiles evilly and folds her arms, her eyebrow going up in a superior expression. She looks at me as if to say, 'you know exactly what I'm talking about.'
      Of course the Goths wouldn't care about me! Other than to get rid of me!
      Would they go that far?
      Would they hurt Brielle?
      I watch my ex-girlfriend and come to a conclusion. No. She's crazy.
      I have to use my last resort.
      "Sign the paper, Courtney, or I quit and leave the city."

     She sizes me up, unfolding her arms. I watch as she stands there staring back at me, thinking over my threat. "I don't suppose it matters. I'll get what I want." She turns to her desk, signs the paper, and puts it in her outbox. I turn to go.

     "I'd say it's been a pleasure working with you," she remarks snidely, "but I don't want to lie."
     My hand reaches out and turns the handle. I exit her office, allowing her to have the last word.

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