One I plug the final numbers into my Get That Promotion, Bitch spreadsheet. Even though I've done enough mental calculations to know the end result will be positive, I still hold my breath, crossing my fingers as I hit enter. "This could be it. The chance to finally pay off those damn student loans and live comfortably." There's no one else actually in my office, but as usual, I hold a one-sided conversation with the air plant sitting on my desk, housed in a concrete planter dipped in bright pink paint. Neither the plant nor its neon home is finance-firm approved, but it's the only spark of joy in my tiny office. When I finally force myself to look at the computer screen, my suspicions are confirmed. There it is, beaming through thousands of harmful blue-light rays: A complete budget. A budget based on the salary increase I'm about to earn. A budget allowing me to pay rent on my Kips Bay apartment while also paying off my student loans. In other words, shining down on me in my cramped office in this towering skyscraper is the Holy Grail of millennial life: a chance to be debt-free. I just barely manage to hold back a shriek of joy. Now all that's left is to actually secure said promotion. I will get this promotion. And I will walk into that meeting with confidence. Once I get a little reinforcement. Pushing my chair back and standing, I grab my phone, tapping on the screen and pulling up FaceTime. Our group chat is preset, so I hit call, checking my makeup as I wait for my best friends, Gemma and Harley, to pick up. Other than a tiny zit brewing under the would-be-pasty-were-it-not-for-bronzer skin of my forehead, my face looks flawless. I touch up my matte pale pink lip anyway and fluff out my light-brown-but highlighted-within-an-inch-of-its-life hair. Gemma answers first. "Okay, I've got ten minutes until my room is flooded with twelve-year-olds and their post-lunch sweaty hormones. Hit me." "First, did not need that visual. Second, where's Harley? I only have time to do this once." "I'm here, I'm here." Harley's face pops up on my screen, and judging by her slightly breathless greeting, she had to duck out of her own office before answering my call. "Are we waiting for Nick?" "Like he'd step away from his desk for a pep talk." Gemma snorts. "Sadie, stop touching your face." I glare at her but also heed her advice. "First things first, appearance check." I hold the phone as far away from my body as I can, turning slowly from one side to the other, like I'm a ballerina in a music box. Or a chicken on a spit. I learned very early on what a perfect appearance could do for a woman, and I work hard to maintain mine. Confidence in my above-average looks often helps mask the self-doubt in my brain. "You look fine." Gemma's not even looking at me, currently scribbling something on her whiteboard instead of bothering to glance my way. Harley jumps in before I can snap at Gemma. "You look perfect as always, Sadie. You got this." I push my shoulders back, my non-phone hand clenched in a tight fist, resting on my hip. "I am a strong warrior goddess." "You are a strong warrior goddess," they both chant along with me, Harley mustering much more enthusiasm than Gemma. The outward confidence seeps inward, drowning out my pesky negative inner thoughts. "I am going to get that promotion and show these motherfuckers who's boss." "Yeah, I'm not saying that in the middle of my classroom when a kid could walk in any minute. But yes." Gemma plops down at her desk and shoves a chip in her mouth. The loud crunching travels through the phone, making my shoulders tense up. I drop the mask for a brief second. "Guys." "Sadie, seriously. You've got this. You've earned that promotion three times over, and it's going to be yours." Harley flashes me a calm smile and a thumbs-up. "You look beautiful, but more important, you know your shit, inside and out." Harley rarely swears, so she must really mean it, and her words give me a much-needed boost. Gemma moves the phone closer to her face so her eyes dominate my screen. "You got this in the bag, bitch." She lowers her voice on her term of endearment, then anxiously checks to make sure no little ears heard her utter a grown-up word, though lord knows her middle schoolers have heard way worse. And probably said way worse. "Text us as soon as it's official." Harley gives me a through-the-screen high five. "You're so buying drinks this weekend." Gemma shoots me a finger gun. "Love you guys." I blow both a kiss and hang up after their chorus of "I love you too." Badass-bitch mask firmly in place and bolstered by my friends' confidence in me, I resume my superhero pose, this time tilting my head up and thrusting my chest out for the full effect, both hands firmly planted on my waist. I've never been more thankful to have zero windows in my office. After sixty seconds of power posing, I peek in the mirror I keep hidden in my desk drawer. I adjust my gray pin-striped pencil skirt and fluff the sleeves of my white silk shirt. "You got this," I tell my reflection before stuffing the mirror back in its hiding space. "I got this," I repeat to my air plant. After one last deep breath, I put on my work face-one slight step up from resting bitch face. A face that says, I know what I'm doing but I'm also totally approachable! A woman-at-work-in-finance face. My phone dings with a text as I pull open my office door. Nick: Show those motherfuckers who's boss, baby! Oh, I plan to. I full-on strut down the hallway of the high-rise building, making my way toward the conference room. I am an accounting badass. I make spreadsheets my bitch. I'm going to kick this promotion's ass. The mantra runs on repeat through my mind as I stride through the open conference room door. Most of the team is already here, lounging in high-backed rolly chairs around a long glass-topped table. I slip into a seat next to my best work friend, Veronica. Other than Veronica and myself, there's only one other woman in the room, my supervisor and mentor, Margo. She hired me right out of college and has guided me through the ranks of the financial analyst world ever since. I give her a small smile, but she doesn't meet my eyes. Shit. My stomach goes for a ride on the Tilt-a-Whirl. Why won't she look at me? Margo always acknowledges me, even if it's with a simple head nod. This can't be good. Holy fuck. Any confidence built up by my friends slips right out of me. No. I'm not going to do that. There could be plenty of reasons Margo doesn't want to look at me. She probably doesn't want to show favoritism. Or spoil the big reveal. I've got this promotion in the bag. I've been working my ass off-I'm talking unpaid overtime, weekends, and holidays-for the past six years, and it's finally about to pay off. The thought of not living paycheck to paycheck, something I'll be able to do for the first time in my life with the raise accompanying my new job title, almost brings me to tears. But I sure as fuck am not going to blow this promotion by crying in the middle of the conference room. So I paste on my easygoing-girl smile and clasp my hands together on the table. The men in the room, a.k.a. the majority of the room, straighten up in their seats when we see our senior partner walking down the hallway. Bill Stevens reminds me of my grandfather, and I know how lucky I am to work with a manager who actually gives a shit about his employees and hasn't ever once hit on me. Just the fact that I think of it as working with him and not for him puts him leagues ahead of every other boss I've ever had, and I've been working since I was fourteen. Bill is joined by a guy in his midthirties whom I've never seen before, dressed in an expensive tailored suit and a Yale School of Management tie. Gag. Veronica pinches my elbow, but I don't turn her way, my eyes glued to Bill as he takes his seat at the head of the table, gesturing for the newcomer to fill the seat on his right. "Thank you all for coming." Bill takes a minute to look around the room. "I know you're all anxious for the big announcement, and I promise to not keep you in suspense. But before I make anything official, I want to say a few words about one of our rising stars, Ms. Sadie Green." Veronica pinches my elbow again, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Margo's lips purse tightly together, like she's trying to contain her glee. Or keep from vomiting. One or the other. "Sadie has been with the company for more than six years now, and I know I'm not the only one who has noticed how often she goes above and beyond the call of duty." Bill makes direct eye contact with me, a warm smile on his face. "And while she has succeeded in all of her previous endeavors, it's now time for her to manage her biggest project yet . . ." I take in a long breath and just for a second close my eyes, hearing my new title before it actually comes out of Bill's mouth. ". . . training our brand-new senior financial analyst, Chad Thompson." The room goes silent, and my stomach bottoms out like I'm in a free-falling elevator. Which, frankly, would be preferable to sitting in this very room at this very moment. My hands clench the armrests of my chair like I might actually be plummeting. Nobody speaks for at least a minute. It's like we're in an episode of Saved by the Bell and Zack Morris has called for a time-out. My chest aches because I'm pretty sure I've stopped breathing altogether. "Who the fuck is Chad Thompson?" The words come blurting out of my mouth in a rush of air before I have time to fully comprehend what I'm saying. All I know is this has to be some kind of sick joke. Bill stares at me like he's never seen me before. "Chad is my future son-in-law. He just graduated from Yale with his MBA, and I think he's going to be a terrific asset to the company. With your help and guidance, I have no doubt he'll be a great leader." My mouth drops open, my brain struggling to process the words coming out of Bill's stupid, stupid mouth. "With my help and guidance?" My voice is low and rumbly, one octave above full-blown Exorcist. "You seriously want me to train the man who's straight-up stealing my job?" Veronica tugs on my elbow, surreptitiously trying to calm me down, but I am having absolutely none of that. "Sadie. You're a very hard worker and a smart girl, but you aren't ready for senior-level responsibility." Bill's voice drips with condescension, and I mentally take back every nice thing I've ever said about him. "But some guy who hasn't stepped foot in the building until today is? His major qualification being that he fucks your daughter?" The room inhales a collective gasp. Veronica rolls her chair away from me, as if no longer willing to claim association. My cheeks burn and oh my god I said that out loud. "Everyone out," Bill commands, his quiet pitch more terrifying than if he screamed the words. I clasp my hands together tightly, focusing on my perfectly manicured fingers, taking slow, deep breaths. I can't believe I just lost my shit in a room full of my colleagues. In front of my boss. In six years, I've never once so much as raised my voice, knowing it only takes one outburst to be labeled emotional . And in five minutes I blew right past emotional and straight into irrational and aggressive. I remain as still as one of those painted statue guys in Times Square, not moving until the rush of suits brushes past me, the room emptying within seconds. I push back my own chair and start to rise, but Bill stops me. "Sit down." Closing my eyes for the briefest of seconds, I pull myself together. Sit up straight. Bright smile. Confident eye contact. Cool. Calm. Collected. I can fix this. "When would you like me to start working with Chad, sir?" If I pretend hard enough, he'll forget all about this, right? Bill steeples his fingers together, tapping his chin thoughtfully. "Of all the girls in this office, I never expected you to react in such an unseemly manner." "Oh?" I just manage to keep my voice from cracking. Or from firing back how I never expected to fall victim to his straight-up nepotism. "I apologize for my language. I'm not going to lie, I was expecting this promotion. Given my years of service to the company, and the many, many unpaid hours and tasks I've not only willingly taken on but have accomplished successfully." "Coordinating a few spreadsheets doesn't mean you are ready for senior-level management." His eyes narrow. "And one of your greatest selling points up until today has been your attitude, never pushing back or making a fuss." My shoulders start to creep up around my ears, my body shrinking in on itself, my anger and disbelief morphing into something far more sinister, a repeated refrain that's been on a constant loop in my mind since I was a kid. Why would you think you're good enough? You know you'll never be good enough. "I apologize for my outburst. It won't happen again." My voice is as small as I feel. I push my chair back from the table. "I'm afraid it's too late for that." Bill stacks his papers before standing. "I'm going to have to let you go, Sadie. That kind of behavior is unacceptable in a place of business. Gather your things, and make sure you stop by HR to sign the paperwork." My blood chills, freezing the breath caught in my lungs. "You're firing me?" He strides to the door, not even looking over his shoulder to speak to me directly. "It didn't have to be this way. You should've kept those emotions in check." He pushes out the door, letting it swing shut behind him with a thud. I sit for less than a minute before I rush out of the conference room. Scurrying as quickly as possible down the hallway I strutted through less than an hour before, I duck into my office without meeting anyone's eavesdropping looks. The few personal items I keep on my desk--a color-coded planner, my college diploma--get hastily tossed into my purse. I lovingly cradle my air plant in my arms, attempting to gain even a breath of solace from my spiky green friend. The door to my office opens before I have the chance to escape back out into the hallway. For a minute, I just look at Margo. My mentor, the woman who took me under her wing and has always had my back--until today. I hold my stuffed purse in front of me like a shield. "Did you know?" She sighs and tugs on the cuff of her right sleeve, her nervous tic. "I heard a rumor, but I didn't think it was actually true." I wait for her to say something, anything, to offer a small word of comfort, even though I know comfort isn't her style. "Why didn't you say anything in there? You hung me out to dry, Margo." She bristles at the accusation. "You hung yourself out to dry with your inexcusable outburst, Sadie. Do you know how bad you made me look? Did you even think about how your behavior would reflect on me as your mentor? How selfish are you?" I almost laugh because I know exactly how selfish I am. Margo sure as hell isn't the first person in my life to tell me. But selfish or not, I know I just got screwed over. "I watched a man who hasn't been here for five minutes take the position I rightfully earned over the past six years. But my words were inexcusable?" I move to push past her, beyond ready to be free of this place. She blocks my path. "Sometimes you have to take what you're given and make the best of it." I stare at her for a second, not fully believing what I'm hearing. Shaking my head, I pull open the door to my office for the last time. "Fuck that." Excerpted from Lease on Love by Falon Ballard All rights reserved by the original copyright owners. Excerpts are provided for display purposes only and may not be reproduced, reprinted or distributed without the written permission of the publisher.
