Chapter 7: Fired

Mabel's POV

“Mabel Hawkins! To my office, now!” My supervisor’s angry voice commanded as soon as he got sight of me. With that, he stormed off.

It seemed like he was waiting for me in the reception.

“I think you're in big trouble this time,” Dylan said, his voice holding a hint of pity.

The moment that jerk instructed the driver not to take me, I knew my day was pretty messed up.

First, I couldn't even sleep well, then I got yelled at by my supervisor, my aunt tried to cause a scene, followed by the most embarrassing interview and now I got summoned by my supervisor again.

I've never had a lot of bad things happen to me in one day like today.

I don't know why, but this time, I felt a little scared; I should have just stuck with the script.

To be honest, I didn't know it would be that jerk at the press conference. I rushed the questions, and I missed the basic details.

If I had known it was him, I would've bailed out, somehow, anyhow. But it was already too late.

When I went to join the other interviewers, I felt his cold gaze on me.

“That jerk! Argh!” I groaned in frustration.

“Which jerk?” Dylan asked, confused.

“No one.” I smiled nervously, hoping he wouldn't misinterpret it and think I was referring to my supervisor.

It feels like I'm going insane! He's making me curse a lot, and it's barely 24 hours since we met.

I hurriedly headed for my Supervisor's office.

The door was halfway open. I caught a glimpse of him pacing. Well, that's not unusual.

I gently pushed the door and stepped in, keeping my distance from him.

I blinked rapidly and gave him my best innocent smile, the one that had gotten me out of trouble a hundred times before

“What were you thinking?” he barked, I didn't flinch. Instead, I tried to feign nonchalance.

“Oh, come on, boss. You know me—I like to shake things up. Keep ‘em on their toes.” I demonstrated with a fake smile plastered on my face.

“You tampered with a structured interview!” He said, breathing heavily.

“Semi-structured.” I corrected.

“I only asked follow-up questions based on his response; I didn't totally deviate from the main interview,” I explained; even though I was in a hot mess, I still maintained my stance.

He continued staring at me like I was out of my mind.

“Besides, did you hear the way he answered? It was gold. Controversy drives views. We’re probably trending right now.” I faked an excited squeal. But he wasn't moved, he didn't blink.

“Look, I was just doing my job. Hard questions. Tough answers. That’s journalism, right?”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “Do you have any idea how many calls I’ve gotten since that interview aired? Our advertisers are livid. The network is questioning whether you can be trusted on live television.”

I let out an exaggerated gasp, placing a hand over her chest. “Me? Untrustworthy? Now that’s just hurtful.”

He still wasn't moved.

“Alright, alright. Maybe I pushed a little too hard. But admit it, it was entertaining. You should’ve seen his face when I called him out. Priceless.” I grinned widely.

Mr Fredd didn’t laugh. Didn’t even crack a smile.

My grin faltered slightly. “Okay, tough crowd,” I muttered under my breath.

Mr Fred exhaled sharply, shaking his head.

“This isn’t a joke. You embarrassed the network. You made it personal. And worst of all, you lost control of the interview. He played you, and now you’re the story.”

My heart skipped a bit.

Something felt off.

I blinked. “Wait, I—”

“You’re fired.” He dropped the bomb!

The words landed like a slap. The kind that leaves a sting long after the moment has passed.

I let out a breathy laugh, weak and forced. “Alright, alright, you made your point. I’ll keep it cool next time. Lesson learned. Now, what’s my next assignment?”

He walked to his desk, picked up a folder, and slid it across the desk. Empty. “There isn’t one.”

I felt a lump form in my throat. “Oh, come on, boss. You can’t be serious. I mean, sure, it got a little heated, but that’s what makes good TV.”

“This is above me; I'm just following orders from the higher-ups.” He said, his eyes dropping a bit.

“You can put in a word for me?” My statement was more like a question. I couldn't afford to lose my job, this was everything to me.

“That won't change a thing.” He said his expression back to bland.

What have I done?

“You know how hard I worked to get here, this is too much of a punishment for something as trivial as this.” I ran my hand through my hair in frustration.

“Where do you expect me to start from?” My dad would be so disappointed in me.

“Start a spelling bee or something. Do something with your life.” He said coldly, using his hand to shoo me away.

“Now, if you'll leave, I have work to do!” He pulled out his chair and sat, pretending to work. But I knew he wasn't.

My legs felt too heavy to move.

I dragged myself out of his office.

Outside the office, I paused for a moment to compose myself.

What has happened has happened, there's no point crying over spilled milk.

I'm sure everyone in the company must have watched the interview, I was more concerned about my father watching it.

I headed to my desk to pack my belongings.

As I entered the workspace I noticed my colleagues standing in pairs by the corners.

They were probably gossiping about me. Just great! Everyone now has something to talk about.

I ignored all the stares and started packing my things; I only took what was mine and left whatever belonged to the company.

Just then, Dylan rushed in, panting.

“I heard.” He said, placing his hand on my wrist.

“Hmm,” I replied, freeing my wrist.

“What do we do now?” He grabbed my wrist again. He was genuinely concerned, but it felt like he was trying to get me to break down.

“I guess it's time to start job hunting.” I smiled halfheartedly, freed my wrist again from his grip, and patted him gently on the shoulder.

Then I quickly grabbed the rest of my stuff and turned to leave.

“You've been blacklisted.” He dropped another bombshell. I halted in my tracks, confused.

I turned swiftly to face him.

“What????”

“He requested it,” he said.

Who requested what?

He walked to me staring deeply into my eyes as if he wanted to cry.

“Let's just apologize to President Ferguson, okay?”

My grip on the box tightened as I struggled to control the turmoil within me.

That jerk again??