Dangerous Waters

"That's it. Nothing can get worse than this," I say, rubbing my palms hard across my face in frustration.

"What did I do, universe? Huh?" I ask myself, pacing back and forth while Mia bombards me with questions that are giving me migraines.

"What did you do, Alex? What does he want with you?" she asks. I collapse onto my desk, wailing.

"How am I supposed to know? I've done everything he asked! I worked overtime all of last week so I could take half the day off last Friday, and since today, I haven't done anything wrong," I say, biting my fingers in an attempt to organize my thoughts.

"Maybe it has to do with the weekly report."

"Have you sent it yet?" Mia asks. I nod frantically, unsure of what else to do.

"Of course, I’ve sent the report," I replied, a hint of annoyance creeping into my voice.

"You know how he is — he always demands the weekly sales performance reports before we even think about holding the board meeting," Mia said, rolling her eyes at the thought.

"I sent that, along with Johnson's report for this afternoon's board meeting," I added, crossing my arms defensively.

"Seriously, what more could he possibly want from me? If he needed something, he would have sent a message instead of calling me in person," I huffed, my frustration bubbling to the surface. All I wanted was to sink into a cozy chair, savor a rich chocolate coffee, and dive into a good book. But that simple pleasure felt like a distant dream at that moment.

"You're right. He won't call you personally," Mia replied, settling into her chair with a resigned slouch.

She began mumbling to herself, a stream of incoherent words spilling out, before abruptly stopping and looking at me with pity in her eyes.

"Is there a reason for repeating what I just said and talking like a lunatic?" I asked, narrowing my eyes and scrutinizing her sudden shift in demeanor.

"Don't freak out, Alex, but what if he's calling you for something that isn’t work-related?" she said, deliberately saying each word as if they were heavy and loaded with meaning, they each registered in my brain slowly, particularly the last line, which struck me like a lightning bolt.

"This cannot be happening to me again," I whispered, feeling as if simply uttering the words was a crime in itself.

"What do you mean, 'not work-related'? That can’t be true!" I exclaim, my eyebrows raised in disbelief.

"Just look at me. No one would approach me for anything other than work-related matters," I gestured to my attire and appearance, a mix of unkempt hair and clothes that felt like drab fabric draped haphazardly over my body. She sighed, a sound filled with concern.

"I hope so too, girl. But it’s not because you aren’t beautiful. Yes, you really need to stop wearing your grandma's curtain clothes and maybe work on your hair and makeup skills. But aside from that, you are a beautiful, sexy girl," she insisted, shaking me gently as if trying to shake sense into my stubborn mind.

Her words didn’t resonate; the lies hadn’t had time to settle in my heart, marred by years of harsh truths. I had been branded as ugly, a label echoing from the mouths of peers and even my own mother.

"First of all, I recently bought this. Secondly, you’re seriously one to talk. Have you seen yourself?" I shot back, gesturing toward her — her hair, a cascade of rich, brown waves; her skin, silky and inviting; eyes sparkling hazel that twinkled with a playful innocence and an undeniable allure. She was the embodiment of beauty, and it was hard not to feel the disparity in our appearances. I try not to think about it sometimes but it's something I can't ignore.

"Let’s not dwell on that at this moment,” she said, her voice trembling with apprehension. “We need to concentrate on Mr. Gregory. I truly hope, for both our sakes, that I’m mistaken.” Her words hung in the air, thick with anxiety, and a chilling sense of dread began to well up inside me.

Mr. John Gregory, with his infamous reputation, was known as a serial harasser and a master of wielding his power inappropriately. He had become the subject of hushed conversations and veiled warnings exchanged among the female employees at our company. His manipulative tactics, though not officially acknowledged, were well-documented, yet he managed to cloak them skillfully from the ever-watchful eyes of Human Resources and the higher-ups.

For those who dared to defy Mr. Gregory’s advances, the repercussions were brutal and unforgiving. Their professional reputations were tainted, leading to a swift blacklisting within the industry, effectively closing the door on any opportunity for decent employment elsewhere. The fortunate few who escaped outright dismissal were relegated to demoted positions and forced to endure the relentless humiliation of their reduced status. All the while, Mr. Gregory took pleasure in making their work lives a torment, ensuring that each day was filled with anxiety and dread.

The numbers were staggering – over about 30 women had fallen prey to his predatory behavior. While most had resisted his advances, some had succumbed to his pressure and coerced into compromising situations that left them emotionally scarred. The most horrific cases involved two women who had been raped, their cries for help muzzled by the company's complicity in covering up the crimes.

As I sit at my desk, trying to process everything, tension fills the room; we both know deep down that I might just be his next victim.

"Okay, I might be overreacting, so let's not lose our cool over this," Mia says, but the rapid bouncing of her legs suggests otherwise.

We both stare at each other and then at our legs, realizing that we are both bouncing our legs. We stopped immediately and burst out laughing.

I don't even know why we're laughing, but it makes me feel better.

"It's not like he told me to tell you, anyway," she says while laughing, trying to playfully hit me like she usually does when she’s hysterically amused, but I push her away.

"What do you mean he didn’t tell you to tell me?" I ask her. Her carefree laughter shifts to a nervous giggle as she scratches her head.

"Don't be mad, but I just overheard Tiffany saying that she doesn’t know why the boss is calling you, so I immediately came to find out," she says, inching away from me towards the door.

"Are you crazy?”