Model Boss

A dark comedy.

Grace ran her fingers through her brittle hair, wincing as another handful of broken strands fell into her palm. She rubbed her hands together and let them drift to the floor, forcing a smile and hoping that no one noticed. Her cheeks burned with a sudden flush; was it hot in this meeting room, or was it just the overwhelming sense of dread?

Victoria had commanded everyone to sacrifice their lunchbreak to attend this meeting. Grace was expected to “rally the troops”, but these troops didn’t look like they wanted to be rallied. A dozen dour faces sat in front of her, arms folded, eyes on the floor, as if they’d been summoned to watch their parents doing it. A mental image she could have done without.

Grace cleared her throat, cringing at the loud, phlegmy sound. “Hey,” she said, but it came out squeaky, like a pre-pubescent boy rather than the empowered assistant manager she was supposed to be. She died a little inside; what a great fucking start this was.

She strained to maintain her wide smile, hoping she didn’t look like a Batman villain. “So,” she said, holding up both thumbs. “How is everyone doing?”

Total. Fucking. Silence. If a termite had farted, she’d have heard it.

A joke. she thought; that’ll help to lighten the mood. “I know it’s been a challenging few weeks, what with the deadlines, budget cuts, and someone clogging the toilet again.”

She forced a grin, scanning the room for any hint of a smile in return—anything to suggest she wasn’t alone in this. But even Tiffany, her closest friend at work, sat in the front row with a tight-lipped expression. The heat was clearly getting to her too; her silky red hair had frizzed up, nearly doubling in volume. She looked like she was about to puke. Then again, anyone with a meeting scheduled with Victoria later would feel the same.

She swallowed hard before continuing. They weren’t going to like this next part. “But we’re almost there. We just need to knuckle down for a few more weeks–”

Uproar from the crowd.

“A few more weeks?”

“We can’t keep this up!”

“It’s not fair!”

Groans, sobs, wails.

The room was closing in on Grace; she was about to have a riot on her hands. She raised her clammy hands to calm them. “I know, it sucks. But we’re way behind on schedule, and super short-staffed, so if we could just –”

“When are we gonna hire some people?” asked Drew. It was always fucking Drew.

Grace shrugged. She opened her mouth, but not much came out of it. “I – I don’t know. Soon. Probably.”

“You need to tell Victoria that we need more time!” Martha shouted. And Grace had thought they were friends. Treacherous old bitch.

Grace let out a nervous laugh. “Ask Victoria for more time? That’s a good one.”

“Well, what are you gonna do to help us?” asked Drew, pointing his stubby finger at her.

Before she could think of an answer, the sound of footsteps echoed from down the corridor, more of a dull hammering than a clicking.

Thud. Thud.

Thud. Thud.

Thud. Thud.

The entire room froze in silence. Every pair of eyes widened as the hammering grew louder, till it stopped just outside the door.

The door burst open, banging against the wall, and Victoria marched in.

Chairs scraped along the floor as everyone rose to their feet in unison. Grace joined them in standing to attention. Shoulders back, eyes front, awaiting further instructions.

At over six feet tall, Victoria towered above everyone in the room. She was neatly presented: hair cropped short and tidy, a crisp white blouse with a stiff collar under a thick woolen sweater and tweed blazer, brogues polished like mirrors. She held herself like an army drill sergeant inspecting a batch of sorely out-of-shape recruits.

She gripped her trademark telescopic pointer, a cheap-looking thing that appeared metal but the hollow sound it made as she tapped it confirmed that it was plastic – an extension of her authority.

She fidgeted with the pointer as she eyeballed the room, looking for any signs that her standards had slipped: an untucked shirt, messy hair, untied shoelaces. Yawning – that was her biggest peeve. Her face fizzed with rage; her harsh features tightened into a nasty grimace. Steam was practically coming out of her ears. Grace was relieved to see her in one of her better moods.

Victoria kept her eyes on those in front of her. “Get in here!” she screamed, causing Tiffany to jump.

In crept Lance from the warehouse.

The poor man was quivering in his overalls, his lip trembling. He was an easy target for Victoria, with his gentle face and milk bottle glasses, not to mention that he was also about a foot shorter than her.

He stopped in front of Victoria, just out of striking distance.

Victoria ignored him as she strolled up and down the room. “Here, at Rock Hard Sculptures, nothing matters more than our standards. Incredibly high standards, set a long time ago by people who weren’t afraid of honest hard work.” she tapped her pointer in the palm of her hand rhythmically as she said, “honest hard work”.

Her voice grew louder as she continued. “Maintaining those standards requires everyone to be at their very best, one hundred per cent of the time. There is no room for any weak links in our chain.”

Already a short man, Lance seemed to be shrinking under the concerned eyes of the entire room. Grace’s lip tightened. What had he done to upset her this time?

At last, Victoria turned to him. “Lance, what question did I ask you this morning?”

Lance looked at the floor, his hands twitching in front of him. “Y-y-you…”

Victoria’s lips curled into a manic smile. She was enjoying this. “Y-y-yes. Go on.”

Lance took a deep breath, composing himself just enough to finish his sentence. “You asked me for an update on our progress.”

“That’s right.” Victoria’s voice was patronizing, like she was speaking to an infant. “And would you kindly share your answer with the group?”

“I said that uhm… all four orders due for today were on schedule.”

Oh no. thought Grace, realizing now why Victoria was pissed at him.

“Right again. Now here’s a bonus question.” Victoria moved closer to Lance now, so close that she was breathing down on him. “How many orders are actually due today?”

Lance muttered something, the faintest of whispers. It sounded like “Foof.”

“Speak up, man!”

“F-f-five.”

“Five fucking orders!” Victoria screamed, the veins in her temple bulging.

“B-but I meant to say fi–”

“Shut up!”

Victoria turned back to face the anxious room; her bulbous eyes unblinking. “Because of Lance’s indiscretion, you’re all staying an hour later tonight. Now, what do you have to say to him?”

“Thank you, Lance.” said everyone in monotonous harmony. No one dared to sigh or groan, or even roll their eyes at the announcement.

“And what say you, Lance?”

Lance looked up from the floor, his eyes glistening with tears behind his thick lenses. “I… I’m sorry, I just–”

“Lance!” yelled Victoria.

Lance gulped. “Y-you’re welcome.”

Victoria gave a curt nod. “Very good. Now, fuck off back to your cave.”

With a whimper, Lance scurried out the door.

The fluorescent light above Victoria’s head buzzed and flickered, blinding Grace along with half the room. She held her breath, wondering how long Victoria would keep them standing in silence. It was usually no more than a minute or two, but every second seemed to drag out for eons in Victoria’s company.

The weight of the room lifted when Victoria finally spoke. “If I see so much as a typo from any of you today, then you’ll be lucky to leave here before midnight. Now, carry on with whatever you were…” Victoria’s face scrunched up in irritation, the corner of her mouth twitching. “Just get back to work!”

Victoria stomped towards the door, stopping when she noticed Tiffany. “And you.” she said, aiming her pointer at her. “My office. Ten minutes. That report better be fucking glorious.”

Tiffany almost melted under Victoria’s gaze. All she could manage was a terrified nod.

There was an audible sigh from everyone when Victoria left the room. Grace clapped her hands together, switching her smile back on. “Okay. Let’s get to it, everyone. If you need anything from me, apart from, you know, additional time or resources, then don’t hesitate to ask.”

With a chorus of mumbles and grumbles, everyone filed out of the room except Tiffany. When she looked at Grace, tears poured down her cheeks, her hands covering her face as she collapsed into her chair.

Grace rushed to the chair beside Tiffany, placing an arm over her shoulder. “Hey, it’s okay.”

“I can’t do it.” she said, her shoulders contracting with every hysterical sob. Grace had expected this; the young girl was a crier at the best of times, but Victoria could crack even the toughest shell with just a look.

“You’ll be fine.” said Grace, but her high-pitched tone betrayed her lack of conviction.

Tiffany’s mascara, which had accentuated her bright blue eyes just moments ago, now streamed down her face. She had also made it look infinitely worse by smudging it with her hands. “No, I won’t, no, I won’t.” she said, her cheeks oscillating as she shook her head.

Grace pulled out a tissue and dabbed at Tiffany’s face, trying to make her look less like she’d asked a drunken face painter to make her into a panda. “Listen to me. I’ve read your report, and it’s… solid. Maybe not glorious, but solid.”

Tiffany whispered like she’d seen a ghost. “I just hate her so much; she’s horrible. I don’t wanna do this; I’m scared, Grace. Oh, my god, I don’t feel good.”

She covered her mouth and ran to the wastepaper basket in the corner, diving head-first into it before bringing up her breakfast with a sickening retch.

Grace used the tissue to cover her nose; the foul smell of vomit already hitting her. Victoria was going to eat Tiffany alive, and, as Tiffany’s friend, she couldn’t allow that.

“Would it help if I joined you?” she asked, knowing she’d probably regret it. “You know, for moral support?”

Tiffany removed her head from the wastepaper basket, wiping half-digested oatmeal from her chin. “You would do that?”

“Absolutely.”

Tiffany’s spirits lifted as she breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Don’t mention it. Now, why don’t you go clean yourself up, then grab your laptop and meet me outside Victoria’s office?”

Tiffany nodded. “Okay then. I can do this, right?”

“Of course you can, Honey.” said Grace, her voice pitching higher again, betraying a hint of the same uncertainty she felt earlier.

*****

Grace tapped her foot and checked her watch. It had been exactly eight minutes since Victoria had said, “My office. Ten minutes.”, but there was still no sign of Tiffany.

Grace had been late once. It was last year, her first day in the office, first day as assistant manager, a role she’d coveted for years. Victoria had ordered her to be at her office at “eleven hundred hours,” and that’s exactly when she showed up: eleven a.m. on the button.

She’d never forget what Victoria said to her. “To be early is to be on time, but to be on time is to be late.” Then she’d tore her to shreds while Randall, her brown-nose assistant had stood smirking in the corner.

Grace had cried for the rest of the week, questioning if taking this job had been a mistake. No wonder there had been no internal applicants.

A couple more years. she told herself. Then she could move on. With her experience, she could get the same role, or better, elsewhere. Somewhere with a nice boss. Hell, even somewhere with an asshole of a boss would still be better than working for this tyrant. Maybe she’d even take Tiffany with her.

She glanced at her watch again. Nine minutes and thirty seconds had passed. Where was Tiffany?

With seconds to spare, she appeared in the distance, clutching her laptop and sprinting down the corridor as fast as her pencil skirt and heels would allow. “Am I late?” she asked, hyperventilating.

Whatever Tiffany had been doing for the part several minutes, it certainly wasn’t fixing her make-up. It was patchy and smeared across her face, like she’d applied it while wearing boxing gloves. It had also been a bad day for her to wear a grey blouse; the armpits were soaked in sweat, and the front of it had little dark splashes of vomit.

But there was no time to worry about any of that now. “No, you’re just on time.” said Grace.

She placed her hands on Tiffany’s shoulders and looked her in the eye. “Now, listen to me. We’ve gone through this report a million times; no one knows it better than you do. So, let’s go in there and show her what a rockstar you are.”

“You’re right.” said Tiffany, catching her breath. “Okay, I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

Grace knocked on the office door.

“Let her in.” came Victoria’s muffled voice from behind the door.

The door swung open, revealing Randall.

Randall always acted as if Victoria’s authority extended to him, lording it over everyone as if he were the boss too, and today was no different. He looked down on Grace from over his pointed nose, his sour expression implying that her mere presence was a personal afront.

“Morning Randall.” said Grace, forcing herself to sound cheerful.

Randall didn’t acknowledge her. Instead, he turned his attention to Tiffany, and his jaw nearly hit the floor. His face contorted with a mix of horror and disbelief as he took in her disheveled appearance, his eyes widening with every new detail.

Tiffany squirmed on the spot, adjusting her blouse and pushing her hair behind her ear, clearly uncomfortable under Randall’s intense scrutiny.

Grace scoffed. Randall was in no position to judge anyone; the pimple at the end of his nose could smash a window if he popped it.

Randall finally stepped aside to let them in.

Victoria’s office was almost as large as the meeting room. Her oversized desk was dominated by an ugly bust of a bald eagle, at the foot of which was a letter opener shaped like a military sword, complete with an ornate hilt and a thin, narrow blade. The wall behind her desk displayed three framed items; one featuring the American flag, another showcasing a small collection of military medals, and the third holding a photo of a man Grace knew was Victoria’s father, dressed in his army uniform and leaning against a military jeep.

“Sit.” said Victoria without looking up, her eyes glued to her computer screen. “Randall, you can leave now.”

The door slammed shut as Grace and Tiffany sat in the two chairs at the opposite side of the desk. Then they waited.

And waited…

And waited…

Grace was used to this. Victoria’s meetings started when she decided they would, not a second sooner. Tiffany, on the other hand, had never even been in Victoria’s office, and it showed. She fidgeted in her chair, her eyes darting around the room as if searching for an escape. Her lips twitched, words forming that she seemed too scared to release – until they burst out all at once.

“Is that your dad?” she blurted, gesturing at the picture on the wall behind Victoria. “Was he in the army?”

Oh God, Tiffany. Not now. Grace gave her a subtle nudge with her elbow; no one speaks until Victoria does.

Victoria’s head turned slowly, locking onto Tiffany with an icy stare similar to that of the bald eagle on her desk.

Tiffany’s cheeks flushed pink as she shrank back in her seat. “Mine too.” she squeaked, almost inaudibly.

Victoria let her gaze linger for a moment, taking pleasure in Tiffany’s discomfort, before she returned to her computer. “What are you doing here, Grace?”

Grace sat up straight, trying to sound more confident than she felt. “Well, I’m just here to… I mean, I helped Tiffany pull the report together, so I thought I’d join to help answer any questions that you may have, Victoria.”

“Very well.” Said Victoria, leaning back in her chair, her steely eyes now fixed on them. “Get on with it, then.”

Grace nodded at Tiffany, urging her to open the report on her laptop. The meeting had officially begun, and they were already on the verge of testing Victoria’s patience.

Tiffany fumbled with her laptop, typing furiously to bring up the report.

Or to find it.

Seconds ticked by, each one heavier than the last. Grace’s anxiety deepened, and Victoria’s irritation grew more pronounced.

“We were looking at it last night, remember?” said Grace, prompting gently. “It should be in your recent items.”

“I know, I know.” replied Tiffany, her voice tinged with rising panic.

Victoria’s breath grew heavier, her anger simmering just below the surface. “Is there a problem?”

“No, no problem.” said Grace, forcing cheerfulness into her tone. “Just a little glitch, that’s all. Technology, eh?”

Tiffany’s expression shifted from nervous to fearful to tearful. She looked up at Grace, her voice a shaky whisper. “It’s not here.”

Fuck, thought Grace, her heart quickening. Anyone who wasted Victoria’s time always regretted it.

She snatched the laptop from Tiffany. “That’s impossible. Let me check.”

The report had vanished. It was like it had never even existed. It wasn’t in the folder, nor the recycle bin. It wasn’t saved to the cloud. Searching for the name of the report brought back zero results – not even an old version of it.

Okay, stay calm, Grace told herself as her stomach churned. No need to panic.

Grace handed the laptop back to Tiffany. “I’m sorry, Victoria, but there seems to be some issue with Tiffany’s laptop, so I’m just going to run and get mine, then we should be able to view the re–”

Victoria raised a hand, silencing her. “Tiffany,” she said, her nose crinkling like it was some sort of filthy, disgusting word. “Grace has spoken very highly of you. She told me you’re a hard worker, reliable. I should have known she was full of shit.”

Tiffany began to stutter. “I–I’m sorry, I–”

“What kind of selfish little bitch has the gall to walking into my office unprepared? Is my time not as important as yours?”

Tiffany shook her head. “I’m didn’t mean to… I just–”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses.” Victoria stood from her chair, towering over her latest victim. “I’ve met your type before. A precious princess, who thinks that all she has to do to succeed is dress like a slut and bat her eyes at every man in the office.”

Grace gasped. “Victoria, that’s enough.”

Victoria ignored her and continued. “As if any man would be desperate enough to fall for you and your pathetic act.”

Tiffany was trembling, her watery eyes fixed on the floor. “You… you can’t talk to me like that.”

“I can talk to you however I damn well please!” Victoria snarled as she reached across the desk, grabbing Tiffany by the blouse and yanking her onto her feet. “And you better listen when I do.”

Tiffany hung limp in Victoria’s grasp, shaking and wailing like a newborn child.

Grace leapt off her chair. “Victoria, let her go.” she shouted over Tiffany’s sobs.

Victoria tightened her grip, pulling the girl closer to her menacing face. “Look at me, you stupid little cunt! You’ll have to work a lot harder to get on my good side, you hear me?”

Grace had seen enough and had to intervene. “Let her go!” she yelled, grabbing Victoria by the arm and trying to free Tiffany from her grip.

Slap!

Grace staggered back, holding her throbbing cheek. Her ear rang as she processed what had happened. Had Victoria just fucking assaulted her?

Her fear turned to anger as the past thirteen months flashed through her mind. All the extra hours she’d worked, stressed up to her eyeballs, treading on eggshells, bending over backwards each day to keep Victoria from losing her shit, and all for a fucking career?

No more. She clenched her fist.

Crack! The punch landed square on the bridge of Victoria’s nose. Grace yelped, pain shooting up her thumb – she’d never learned how to make a proper fist.

Despite her poor technique, it worked. Victoria let go of Tiffany, the girl collapsing to the floor in a heap.

Victoria wiped her nose and looked in disbelief at the sliver of blood on her hand, the work of Grace’s engagement ring.

Then she looked up Grace, fury burning in her eyes.

Grace’s anger drained away, replaced by fear and regret. Oh fuck.

“I’ll kill you.” whispered Victoria. “I’ll fucking kill you!”

Victoria darted around the desk and charged at Grace, sending her tumbling backwards over the chair.

Grace hit the floor hard, her head bouncing off the carpet. Before she had time to catch her breath, Victoria was on top of her, hands clamped around her throat. “I’ll fucking kill you!” she shouted again through gritted teeth.

Grace thrashed and kicked, clawing at Victoria’s face, but the bigger woman wouldn’t relent.

The pressure in Grace’s head built until her vision darkened, her eyes on the verge of bursting. Tiffany’s screams echoed distantly in her ears.

Then, suddenly, a wet, muffled thunk. The pressure released, and she could breathe again.

Victoria gasped – just once – before collapsing forward, her dead weight pinning Grace to the floor.

Grace choked and panted as she caught her breath, the room coming into focus again. With a grunt, she slid out from under Victoria’s lifeless body, noticing the letter opener lodged deep between her shoulder blades.

Grace sat up, staring in horror as the back of Victoria’s blazer turned a deep red. If anyone from the office, just a few feet away, walked in right now, there’d be no doubt about what this looked like. And if the police showed up, gathered evidence, and questioned everyone, they’d reach the same conclusion.

Grace and Tiffany were murderers.

It wouldn’t matter that Victoria had threatened Tiffany, or that she’d nearly choked Grace out on the carpet. All that would matter was the dead body with a sharp object sticking out of it.

Her heart pounded as if trying to escape from her chest. She’d couldn’t go to jail – she just couldn’t. She wouldn’t survive a day, let alone years. The thought of sharing a cell with some psycho, having to be someone’s bitch for protection, was terrifying. And there was the wedding next year to consider.

What the fuck was she going to do?

She’d have to cover it up. There were no witnesses and no one in the office knew what had happened yet. If she could hide the body, she’d buy herself some time to come up with a plan. That’s all she needed – time to think.

Oh, and she would need Tiffany’s help.

But Tiffany was in no state to help anyone. She sat on the floor with her back against the wall, knees huddled to her chest, rocking back and forth. Her eyes were distant, as if she were somewhere else – somewhere more terrifying than this room.

As Grace approached, she heard Tiffany muttering under her breath.

“Please… please, don’t hurt her again.”

“Tiffany,” said Grace, crouching in front of her. “Tiffany, look at me.”

Tiffany shook her head, her voice trembling. “Please, don’t hurt Mommy!”

Grace’s heart sank. She’d always suspected Tiffany had issues, but this was worse than she’d imagined.

She placed her hands on Tiffany’s shoulders. “Tiffany…”

“Mommy!” she screamed.

“Tiffany!” shouted Grace, shaking her by the shoulders.

Tiffany jolted as if waking from a nightmare. When she saw Victoria’s body, she gasped, covering her mouth as tears streamed down her face.

Grace cupped Tiffany’s cheeks, holding her head firmly in place. “Tiffany… Tiffany, look at me.”

Through her sobs, Tiffany met Grace’s gaze.

A pang of guilt washed over Grace. She wanted to hold Tiffany, to give her a shoulder to cry on, but there was no time. That would have to wait.  

“I need your help.” said Grace, her tone firmer than she’d intended. “We have to hide the body–”

Tiffany’s sobs turned to wails, her flailing arms weakly pushing Grace away.

“Hey!” shouted Grace, desperation breaking her voice. “Do you want to end up in jail?”

Tiffany shook her head, looking like a scolded toddler.

“Well, you need to help me, Tiffany. We don’t have much time. Come on, stand up.”

Gingerly, Tiffany got to her feet, watching Victoria’s body as if it might spring to life and attack her.

Grace’s eyes darted around the office, searching for a spot to hide the body, but there was none. Dragging it behind the desk might have to do for now. It would be easy to keep everyone away from Victoria’s office for a while; no one liked coming here anyway.

“Okay,” said Grace. “If we each grab a leg, then we can—”

“No!” screamed Tiffany, her eyes squeezed shut as she pressed herself against the wall, her breathing ragged and shallow.

Grace raised her hands in a calming gesture. “Okay, okay. It’s alright, you don’t have to do it.”

She sighed deeply. Victoria had been a big woman, and Grace hadn’t been to the gym in months. Still, she had no choice but to move her – and quickly.

Grace grabbed both ankles and, with a deep breath, heaved. Purple spots exploded in her vision, and her lower back tightened into a stubborn knot, pain burning down the back of her legs. But she kept pulling.

Gradually, Victoria’s body began to move, gaining just enough momentum for Grace to hide it behind the desk before she nearly collapsed. “Come on, Tiffany.” she said, catching her breath. “We need to get out of here.”

But Tiffany didn’t budge. She stayed flat against the wall like she was on a building ledge, avoiding the fatal drop below her.

Grace walked over and gently took her hand. “Tiffany…”

Tiffany looked up, her frightened eyes meeting Grace’s as though she were a stranger.

“We need to go. Come on.”

Tiffany took a hesitant step forward. Grace wrapped her arm around her, guiding her to the door. A quick peek into the corridor to ensure it was clear, and then she led Tiffany out, closing the door behind them.

As Grace escorted Tiffany back to her desk, the recycled air of the office felt thick and stuffy, almost suffocating her. They were met with tight-lipped smiles and pitiful head tilts from the rest of the office. Phones rang, keyboards tapped, computers hummed as everyone continued with their work. They were all indifferent to Tiffany’s state; Victoria had done this to all of them before.

Grace forced a nervous smile, her throat like sandpaper. “She’ll be fine.” she mouthed as she helped Tiffany into her seat. So far, no one suspected a thing.

From the corner of her eye, Grace noticed Drew make a triumphant fist, then reach across his desk to take a twenty-dollar bill from Martha. Their guilty expressions told her everything.

Grace’s eyebrows furrowed. “Were you two betting on how the meeting would go?”

Martha shrugged, her chair creaking as she shifted uncomfortably. “Not exactly.”

“We were betting on whether Victoria would make her cry.” said Drew, smirking, before returning to his phone call. “Yeah, so that’s a hundred of our Kama Sutra statuettes; those are very popular. Anything else?”

Grace shook her head, rubbing Tiffany’s back as the poor girl stared blankly at her screen, shell-shocked. “Shame on the pair of you.” she said, her low voice tinged with disgust.

Slipping into her own chair, Grace pretended to focus on her computer screen, narrowing her eyes as if reading something important. But she was watching Tiffany across from her. The girl was a mess, but at least she was quiet. As long as she stayed in her seat and kept her mouth shut, no one would give a shit.

Randall stood, glancing over his desk and patting his shirt pocket. “What did I do with my pen?” he muttered. “Must have left it in Victoria’s office.”

Grace’s eyes widened. A silent shout caught in her throat as Randall turned and started walking down the corridor towards Victoria’s office.

She dived from her seat, almost tripping over her handbag as she scrambled after him. Her legs were like jelly, each step a struggle, as if she were running in a dream. But no matter how hard she pushed herself, the distance between them only grew. Did Randall always walk this fast?

“Hey!” she shouted, her voice sharp and firm – eerily similar to Victoria’s.

Randall’s shoulders nearly hit the roof as he spun round. “What is it?”

“You can’t go in there.” snapped Grace. “I mean, uhm– Victoria isn’t in her office right now. She had to go out for a while. Private appointment.”

“She never mentioned any appointment to me,” said Randall, his face scrunching up in confusion. “And there’s nothing in her diary. I should know – I manage it for her.”

As he turned to walk away, Grace stepped in front of him. “You know she hates people going into her office when she’s not there,” she said, swallowing hard. “If you do it, I’ll– I’ll tell on you.”

Randall scoffed. “I’m in her office without her all the time – that rule only applies to you minions. Now get out of my way.”

Randall brushed past her and continued toward Victoria’s office. His hand hovered over the door handle when a deafening screech filled the office.

The fire alarm blared, echoing down the corridor and making them both jump.

Randall froze, cursing under his breath as he reluctantly turned away from the door and headed back down the corridor.

Grace closed her eyes, breathing a sigh of relief. They were safe for now.

She followed Randall back down the corridor, watching as he donned his fluorescent orange fire marshal vest, his posture becoming more authoritative as his voice boomed over the alarm. “Okay everyone! You know the drill – head straight for the exit in an orderly manner. Let’s go, move it!”

As the office workers filed out, mumbling and grumbling, Grace caught sight of Tiffany peeking out from the breakroom, gesturing for her to come closer.

Keeping her head low to avoid drawing attention, Grace quickly made her way over.

Tiffany appeared only slightly more composed than before. “I set off the alarm,” she said, her voice shaky. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“It’s alright, but what are we going to do now?” Grace asked, tension creeping into her words.

Tiffany shook her head. “I don’t know – maybe hide her in the supply closet? Or one of the bathroom stalls?”

“Tiffany,” said Grace, trying to stay calm. “What happens when a fire alarm goes off?”

“I don’t know… people leave the building?”

“Yeah. And then what?”

Grace could almost see the realization dawning on Tiffany’s face. Her eyes widened, and her hands shot up to cover her mouth. “Oh my god!”

“Exactly,” replied Grace. “The fire department is going to show up and search every inch of this place!”

Grace paced up and down the breakroom, pulling at her hair, more brittle strands coming loose in her fingers. By setting off the alarm, all Tiffany had done was delay the inevitable. Sooner or later, someone was going to find Victoria’s body, and then they’d be completely fucked.

Tiffany suddenly gasped. “I have an idea.”

*****

Grace let go of Victoria’s arms, dropping her body onto the bathroom floor. She gagged as she locked the door behind them. The bathroom reeked of shit; whoever had just been in here must have had something spicy for dinner the night before. “There’s got to be another window, surely?”

Tiffany shrugged. “The others are either blocked by desks or cabinets, or they face the front of the building. This one is right above the bushes.”

“This is never going to work.” Grace said, instantly regretting her choice of words when she saw Tiffany’s reaction.

The girl fell helplessly against the wall, tears flowing again. “You’re right. We’re going to get caught.”

Grace sighed, annoyed at herself. If this had any chance of working, then she needed Tiffany to stay focused; another meltdown would seal their fate.

“I’m sorry,” Grace said, the fire alarm still blaring. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

“We’re going to jail!”

“No, no we’re not. Tiffany, this is a good plan, but we need to be quick, okay?”

Tiffany nodded as she wiped her nose. “Okay, let’s do this.”

They hauled Victoria’s dead weight to the window, a small opening that sat high from the floor.

The rusty joints groaned as Grace pushed the window from the bottom. It barely opened more than a crack. “Fuck. This is going to be tight.”

“Maybe try legs first?” suggested Tiffany, still sniffling.

Grace looked at the letter opener still sticking out of Victoria’s back. It would have to come out before they attempted squeezing her out the window. She winced as she tugged at the handle, the blade squelching as it slid out. The crimson stain on the back of Victoria’s blazer spread wider, the material managing to soak up most of the blood. She wrapped the blade in some paper towels and placed it to one side; she’d worry about what to do with that after dealing with the body.

Victoria had been tall and lean, so with Grace guiding and Tiffany holding her up, her legs slid through the gap in the window with relative ease. Her thicker waist and torso scraped through, and her broad shoulders required a forceful push, but they went through. Her head was another matter though.

Victoria had a boulder of a head, and now it was stuck. A permanent grimace was etched on her face as the rest of her dangled outside the window, high in the air.

Grace pushed down on Victoria’s head, her hands slipping on the slick, greasy hair. She could barely get any leverage with the window so high, and the head stubbornly refused to budge. “A little help here?” she called.

Hesitantly, Tiffany reached out a hand, cringing as she touched Victoria’s face. Together, they shoved hard, Victoria’s nose quickly becoming squashed and crooked, her neat hair a ragged mess.

Suddenly, Tiffany stopped, letting out a disgusted groan. “My finger just went in her mouth.” she cried, holding her saliva-covered hand out like she wanted to chop it off.

Then a loud knock came from the door. “Who’s in there?”

It was Randall.

Grace and Tiffany shared a terrified look. “Be out in a minute!” shouted Tiffany.

The door moved a little. “Tiffany, is that you? Why’s the door locked?”

“I said I’d be out in a minute!” she screamed.

The pair slammed the palms of their hands into Victoria’s head, pushing as hard as they could. When it still didn’t move, they began to improvise; slapping, punching, elbowing. Victoria’s face was battered and wilted, but still it clung on.

Tiffany grunted, out of breath. “I can’t do it.”

“You’ve gotta keep trying!” Grace yelled. “Come on, we can do this.”

The door knocked again. “Grace? Are you in there too?”

“Just keep going!” Grace screamed.

Tiffany took three steps back. Then, with an almighty battle cry, she charged at the head like a linebacker, slamming her forearm into its jaw. It finally popped through the window, like a cork from a bottle.

Victoria’s body landed with a metallic clang, like someone dropping a cymbal. Worry filled their faces; Victoria was supposed to land in the bushes.

They peered over the blood-stained window ledge, looking in horror as they saw Victoria’s body lying at the bottom of an open dumpster.

“Oh, fuck!” Tiffany cried, her head in her hands. “It’s Wednesday – Randall always takes out the trash on a Wednesday.”

The door knocked once again, firmer this time. “Ladies, can’t you hear the alarm?” asked Randall. “We need to evacuate the building.”

“Okay,” said Grace, taking a few short breaths to compose herself. Instinctively, she threw the letter opener out the window, and it landed in the dumpster along with Victoria’s body. “It’s going to be okay. I’ll distract him, while you wipe the blood off the window.”

Tiffany nodded, dashing to grab some more paper towels.

Grace opened the door just enough to step out and block Randall from entering. “Hi, Randall, here’s your pen.” she said, holding the pen under his nose. Miraculously, Victoria’s office wasn’t drenched in blood, but still, Grace would rather that no one went in there till she’d had the chance to inspect it herself.

Randall frowned at the pen before taking it. “What’s going on, Grace?”

You’re going to have to give Tiffany another minute.” Grace placed a hand on her stomach, giving Randall a sympathetic smile. “She’s, uhm, not feeling too good.”

Randall’s eyebrows raised. “I see. Why were you in there, though?”

Grace’s eyes shifted from side to side as she tried to think of a reasonable answer. “Moral support?” she said, her voice going up a notch.

Randall’s nose crinkled in disgust. “I thought I heard you giving her a pep talk in there. Bit odd, don’t you think?”

Grace gave a nervous laugh as Tiffany came out the door.

Randall pinched his nose at the foul smell wafting from the bathroom. “Feeling better, Tiffany? Grace told me you had diarrhea.”

Grace shook her head, outraged. “I never said that! I just said you weren’t feeling too well, that’s all.”

“No, it’s fine.” said Tiffany, blushing. “Much better now, thanks for asking… I think last night’s curry didn’t agree with me.”

“Okay, say no more.” Randall said, placing his fingers in his ears. “Let’s go, you two. Everyone else is already outside.”

*****

They made it outside just as the fire department arrived. Two burly firefighters walked toward them, brushing past the small crowd of office and warehouse workers gathered in the parking lot.

Randall stepped forward as they approached, puffing out his chest like he was one of them. “Little heads up for you, fellas. If you’re planning on searching the bathroom, better wear your oxygen masks,” he said, before pointing his thumb at Tiffany. “This one here just—ow!”

Tiffany punched him in the arm, her face flushing from bright pink to scarlet. The firefighters exchanged an odd look before heading inside.

“Okay, everyone,” Randall shouted, rubbing his arm. “I need you all to stay in sight of the building for now. Hopefully, we’ll be allowed back inside shortly.”

Tiffany whispered as she and Grace joined the crowd. “What the fuck are we going to do now?”

Grace placed a gentle hand on Tiffany’s arm. “We’re going to keep quiet. Then, when we get back inside, you’re going to follow my lead.”

Ten minutes later, the firefighters reappeared, which was the signal for Randall to puff his chest out again. “Talk to me.” he said as they approached.

The senior firefighter stepped forward, giving a nonchalant shrug. “All clear. Someone set off the alarm – glass on the breakroom button was smashed. Could've been an accident.”

Randall's face twisted in outrage as he turned to the crowd. “Who did it?”

Grace and Tiffany exchanged a quick look, then kept their heads down. The crowd remained silent, their gormless faces giving nothing away, which only fueled Randall's frustration. “Come on, which one of you cowards did it?”

Then Drew piped up. “Can we go back inside now?”

The firefighter shrugged again. “Sure.”

The crowd dispersed, with the warehouse staff heading for the big industrial entrance on the left, and the office staff moving toward the front door beneath the company sign. The sign read “Rock Hard Sculptures: Designs to Excite” in a crude font resembling a horny devil, complete with pointy tails and horns on each letter.

“Someone better own up before Victoria gets back.” Randall called as everyone ambled inside.

*****

Grace tied a knot in the garbage bag and sighed in relief, glad to escape the stench of week-old food and used coffee cups. “Okay,” she said to Tiffany, lifting the rustling bags off the floor. “I’ll take these two; you grab that cardboard box full of crap over there.”

They left the breakroom and marched purposefully toward the door. No one paid them much attention, except for Randall, who raised an eyebrow as they passed his desk. Had he not been on the phone, Grace was certain he would have questioned them. Everyone knew taking out the trash was Randall’s job – one of the many ways he ingratiated himself with Victoria. Grace had only discovered where the dumpster was when Victoria landed in it.

Grace placed the garbage bags on the ground, swatting a buzzing fly as she peered into the dumpster. The metallic stench of rot and rust hit her first, followed by the sight of Victoria’s twisted body at the bottom, her neck bent at an unnatural angle, those lifeless eyes staring back. Grace looked away, fighting the urge to vomit.

Tiffany saw the look of horror in Grace’s eyes. “Is it bad?” she asked, her voice quivering.

“No,” Grace said, swallowing hard. “But I wouldn’t look if I were you.”

Tiffany looked anyway, then let out a horrified whimper. “I can’t take this anymore.” she said, sobbing uncontrollably. “It’s all my fault.”

“Hey,” said Grace, squeezing Tiffany’s hands. “This is not your fault. Do you hear me?”

“What’s not her fault?” asked Randall.

Grace and Tiffany jumped at the sound of his voice. He stood holding another garbage bag, staring at them, his eyebrow raised again.

Grace racked her brains, searching for a suitable response. “Oh, nothing – we were just talking about, uhm…”

Randall sighed impatiently. “You two are up to something. Hiding in the bathroom together, now this. You better tell me exactly what’s going—”

“We’ve been having an affair.” Tiffany blurted out.

Grace turned and looked at the girl, trying to hide the surprise on her face. Where the fuck did that lie come from?

Tiffany met her gaze, tears still streaming from her eyes. “And she just broke up with me.”

Grace hesitated for a split second, then nodded slowly, falling in line with Tiffany's unexpected confession.  “That’s right,” she said, turning to Randall. “We’ve had a lot of fun, but that’s all it ever was for me. I’ve decided to stay with my fiancé.”

Tiffany wailed, burying her face into Grace’s shoulder. “I’ll never love again.” she cried. Grace was impressed; the girl sure could act.

Randall shook his head. “I never had you pegged for a lesbian, Tiffany. But you, Grace… with the comfy shoes, I can see it,” he said, nodding as if he'd just solved a puzzle.

Grace frowned, looking at her shoes. What was wrong with them? They were very smart, perfect for work. So what if they looked “comfy”?

“You know, I’m going to have to report this to Victoria when she gets back?” Randall said with a subtle smugness. “I don’t think she’ll be best pleased.”

“We understand.” said Tiffany, sniffling for dramatic effect.

Randall threw his garbage bag into the dumpster, then did the same with the other two, and the cardboard box. “I’ll give you two some space. Just don’t take too long.”

As Randall walked away, Grace and Tiffany exchanged glances, both still trembling slightly. “Nice save,” Grace whispered, still feeling the adrenaline rush. Tiffany nodded, her tear-streaked face showing a mix of relief and exhaustion. The tears were real – unlike the brilliant lie she’d just spun.

*****

Grace and Tiffany spent the rest of the afternoon pretending to work, their eyes constantly flicking to the clock, counting down the minutes until they could finally go home. At last, five o’clock arrived. Grace stood up, her voice firm. “Alright, everyone. Time to go home, don’t make me tell you twice.”

Chairs wheeled across the carpet as everyone began to stand, but Randall’s voice cut through the office like a whip. “Stay in your seats!” he barked, his eyes locking onto Grace with an stubborn glare. “Victoria ordered everyone to work an hour later tonight. Just because she hasn’t returned from her appointment doesn’t mean we get to do as we please.”

Grace gritted her teeth, trying to keep her voice steady. “Randall, when Victoria isn’t here, I’m in charge. If I say everyone can leave, then they can.”

Randall leaned back in his chair with a smug grin. “Fine. You can all go home, but I’m waiting here till she gets back. We’ll see what she has to say about your insubordination.”

That’s when Tiffany approached him. The day’s stress had pushed her to the edge, and it showed in every tense muscle, and the wild flash in her eyes. Without warning, she erupted. “Fuck off!” she screamed, so loud and shrill that Grace thought the windows might shatter.

Randall’s face turned beet red as he slowly rose from his chair, his confidence in tatters. He grabbed his coat from the back of the chair, his eyes never leaving Tiffany’s, wide with a mix of fear and disbelief. Without another word, he hurried toward the exit, his head ducked in fear of another outburst.

The rest of the office followed suit, their movements quick and jittery, leaving Grace and Tiffany alone in the suddenly silent room.

Grace exhaled deeply, the weight of the day settling on her shoulders. They were on the home stretch now; it was almost over. “Let’s wait ten minutes,” she said quietly. “Then I’ll bring my car around the back. We can put her in my trunk, and we’ll drive to the river.”

She paused, a dark memory flashing in her mind – the quiet spot she’d discovered as a child, where the water ran deep and fast, a place she was warned never to go near again. But perhaps one more visit wouldn’t hurt.

*****

The rain was lashing down now, pounding against the metal dumpster with a relentless fury. Inside, Grace and Tiffany waded through the knee-deep stinking mess of burst bags filled with moldy food and sodden cardboard, tossing them over the side to make room.

They found the letter opener first, the soaking wet paper towels unraveled, partially revealing the ornate hilt. Grace took it and stuffed it down the front of her pants; that would do for now.

Victoria’s body lay amidst the trash, coated in a slick, rancid juice mixed with patches of a hard, crusty grey paste – some sort of waste from the warehouse. A giant, half-chewed lettuce leaf clung grotesquely to her face. Grace flinched at the sight, hoping that the picnic blanket was still in her trunk.

Sharing a final glance, they pulled at Victoria’s soaking blazer and hauling her off the bottom of the dumpster.

“Okay,” Grace panted, her arms hooked under Victoria’s armpits. “Three, two, one…”

With a grunt, they lifted and pushed, Victoria’s long legs following her body over the side and thudding onto the concrete below. Grace struggled to catch her breath, her arms trembling from the effort, but didn’t allow herself any respite. She wiped her drenched hair from her face and climbed out of the dumpster, extending a hand to help Tiffany up from the other side.

Grace took a deep, steadying breath. “Right,” she said, her voice weak with exhaustion. “Let’s hurry up and get this over with.” What a fucking day it had been. The fact that they’d gotten this far without being caught felt like nothing short of a miracle. They might actually get away with this.

Grace positioned herself at Victoria’s ankles, ready to lift again, and waited for Tiffany to grab her wrists. But Tiffany didn’t move. She stood rooted to the spot, her face drained of color, her eyes wide with a petrified glare.

Grace’s heart skipped a beat. She looked up at Tiffany and knew instantly – they were caught.

She turned slowly, dread pooling in her stomach, to find Lance standing at the back door, a cigarette dangling from his lips. His expression was frozen in shock, eyes glued to Victoria’s mangled body.

His lip trembled as he finally spoke. “Y-y-you killed her?” he asked, the cigarette falling from his mouth to the wet ground, unnoticed.

“Lance, please…” Tiffany’s voice cracked with desperation.

“It’s not what it looks like…” Grace pleaded, but the words felt hollow even to her own ears.

Lance’s eyes narrowed as the shock on his face began to fade. A triumphant grin spread across his lips, and he let out a breathless laugh. “You fucking killed her!” he repeated, clapping his hands together as if in applause.

Grace was dumbstruck. She’d almost forgotten how much Lance had hated Victoria. Maybe – just maybe – he’d keep his mouth shut.

“Put her back in the dumpster for now.” Lance ordered, his voice dripping with glee. “I’ll send my guys home, then we’ll figure out exactly what to do with that fucking witch.”

ONE MONTH LATER

Tiffany gave an excited little wave as she approached. “Hey, how do I look?” she asked, her eyes sparkling like sapphires under the evening lights. Her little black dress hugged her figure in all the right ways, drawing admiring glances from nearly every guest at the party.

Grace beamed at her friend, struggling to find the right words to describe her. “Stunning, obviously. Are you nervous?”

Tiffany shrugged, her smile bright. “A little, but in a good way.”

“You’ll be fine.” Grace reassured her. “We’ve rehearsed your speech a million times. You know it inside out. Just go up there and show everyone what a rockstar you are.”

“Thanks… for everything.” Tiffany said, her voice filled with sincerity.

Grace nodded, understanding the unspoken gratitude. “My pleasure.”

Tiffany walked confidently across the courtyard, greeting the other guests – a who’s who of perverted idiots with more money than sense – with practiced charm. It was their job to be nice to these assholes, but at least there was always free food and drinks at these events.

Stopping at the base of the sculpture, still covered with a black sheet, Tiffany took a deep breath and adjusted her dress. She clinked her champagne glass with a knife. “Everyone, could I have your attention, please?”

The crowd quickly settled, conversations fading as all eyes turned to Tiffany.

“Thank you,” she said, her voice resonant and clear. “The big moment has finally arrived. Tonight, we unveil Rock Hard’s latest sculpture, which I’m proud to say is our most ambitious to date. The past few months have been a real challenge, but I’m immensely proud of our team and what we’ve accomplished. Now, I’d like to invite our esteemed host, and the visionary behind this creation, to join me for the unveiling. Please give a warm welcome to Mr. Maxine De La Cruz!”

The crowd applauded, parting to make way for Mr. De La Cruz, the owner of the ostentatious mansion. He sauntered forward with exaggerated grace, his psychedelic high-collared shirt a stark contrast to the more conservatively dressed guests. He waved flamboyantly and kissed the air around both of Tiffany’s cheeks before facing the crowd.

“Thank you, thank you, my dear friends,” he said in his flowery voice. “This piece has been a dream of mine for years…”

As his voice drifted into the background, Grace heard a familiar tone. “Grace. How lovely to see you again.”

Mr. Matthews greeted her with a smile behind his expensive veneers, his slicked-back hair overly dark for his age. A month ago, he wouldn’t have known her from a stranger on the street.

“Mr. Matthews,” she replied, matching his friendly demeanor and allowing him to kiss her hand. She had become quite adept at handling such social interactions. “Lovely to see you too.”

“Listen,” he said, lowering his voice slightly. “I wanted to thank you personally for how you’ve stepped up in Victoria’s absence.”

Grace gave a somber smile. “My pleasure, Sir.”

“Nasty business, her disappearing like that.” he continued.

Grace nodded, keeping her expression neutral. “It really is.”

“Anyway,” he said, his tone brightening. “I’ve been thinking, and I’d love for you to take on the role of manager on a permanent basis. Are you interested?”

Grace’s heart did a little dance. She maintained a polite smile as she replied, “I’d be honored, Sir.”

Mr. Matthews’ smile widened, his teeth glinting with approval. “Splendid. Let’s discuss the details next week, shall we?”

“Sounds good.” Grace responded, already envisioning her new role. There’ll be big changes, that’s for sure.

“Oh, one more thing,” he said, leaning in closer. “Your sexual proclivities are none of my concern, but can I just check that things are finished between you and that little firecracker over there?”

Grace blinked. She’d almost forgotten about Tiffany’s lie that day, but clearly Randall and his big mouth hadn’t. “Yes, Sir. Finished for good.”

Mr. Matthews nodded. “Glad to hear it. Office romances are bad for business.”

As the conversation ended, Grace and Tiffany turned to see Mr. De La Cruz wrapping up his speech. “So, without further ado, I give you The Passion of the Centaur.”

With a dramatic flourish, Mr. De La Cruz and Tiffany pulled the rope, and the black sheet slid away to reveal the sculpture. The crowd erupted into gasps and applause, a mixture of awe and bewilderment spreading through the guests as they took in the extravagant and eccentric piece.

Grace’s mouth dropped open. She’d seen the design for the sculpture, but nothing could have prepared her for the abomination before her now. She doubted she’d ever be ready for something like this.

The centaur was an imposing figure, with rippling muscles carved into his arms and torso. Strapped to his back was a bow, and a quiver brimming with arrows. His long, unkempt hair framed a mean face with a chiseled jaw, and his feral eyes gleamed with a look of ruthless determination. It wasn’t surprising, considering what he was doing.

The centaur was reared up on his hind legs, mounting a naked human female. Most of his throbbing “centaurhood” was out of sight, nestled between her buttocks. The woman, tall enough to accommodate the beast’s advances, was bent over a large boulder. Her hair was cropped short, and her face, in stark contrast to the centaur’s, was twisted in a grotesque expression of agonizing pleasure. Grace couldn’t shake the curious familiarity of the woman’s features.

Mr. Matthews applauded with genuine enthusiasm. “Magnificent, isn’t it?”

“Oh yeah,” Grace replied, her eyes fixed on the sculpture, even as she wished she could look away. “It’s really… something.”

As the crowd dispersed, mingling and taking full advantage of the free bar, Grace strolled over to Tiffany, who still stood under the shadow of the sculpture. “You did so well,” she said, her voice brimming with pride.

Tiffany leaned in for a hug. “Aw, thank you. Couldn’t have done it without you.”

Their moment was abruptly interrupted as Randall swaggered over. “Hey, ladies,” he said, his presence immediately dampening the mood.

Grace turned to him with a sweet smile. “Randall, could you be a doll and get us a couple of glasses of champagne?”

The joy drained from Randall’s face. He’d resented Grace ever since she became the acting manager, and taking orders from her was a bitter pill to swallow. “Of course. Anything else?”

Grace’s smile widened playfully. “Actually, yes. I’m getting pretty hungry. How about you, Tiffany?”

Tiffany caught on, smirking. “I’m starving.”

Grace waved a dismissive hand at Randall. “Be a dear and fix us some plates from the buffet as well.”

Randall’s cheeks flushed with anger, but he managed a strained smile. “No problem,” he said stiffly before storming off.

Grace chuckled as he left. “That’ll keep him busy for a while.”

Tiffany feigned an eyeroll. “You’re so mean.”

Their gazes drifted back to the sculpture.

“So, this is Victoria’s final resting place?” Grace asked.

“Sure is. Lance did a fine job, didn’t he?”

“He really did.”

A quiet tension settled over them as Tiffany looked down at the ground.

Grace sensed her friend’s unease. “What’s wrong?”

Tiffany sighed; her voice softer now. “I just can’t help but think… did Victoria really deserve this?”

“Damn right she did.” Grace said without hesitation, nodding confidently. “This is her getting a taste of her own medicine… after all the times she rode us.”

They exchanged a knowing glance, then burst into hysterical laughter. A few heads turned, but no one else seemed to get the joke.